We've never had an ending of a story to write, so I am going to ask you to complete the story below. It was a story I wrote for a Writers News competition last year with the theme of "An Illegal Immigrant", but I'd mistaken the month it was due, so I was just about 30 days too late. I've eliminated my ending.

The story as printed contains 1,353 words. The limits were between 1,500 and 1,600. So you are asked to write your version of the ending using between 147 and 247 words (strict limit). The aim is to get the best ending possible, not the one nearest the mine (so I also removed the title)!

Click here for results and winning entries.

The Story:

Anya Polenski loved languages. Her knowledge of English had flourished since she began a pen-friendship with Jane Parkinson when she was ten years old. From a stuttering beginning, her language skills improved rapidly, and by her late teens she was able to write to Jane in good English.

However, she wanted to understand English better. Not just the grammar and structure, but the idiom as well. There was only one way: go to work in England for a couple of years. Yet permits to work in England were just not given. Six-month travel visas, yes, but work permits, no. And getting a passage to England without proper documents was out of the question.

Jane had always been fascinated by Russia ever since she’d opted for a Russian pen-friend. With the background knowledge gained from Anya’s letters, her interest increased and eventually she studied Russian at university. By graduation, she was fluent, and wanted to develop her skills in a Russian-speaking environment. Nothing less than a significant spell in Russia would do. Sadly, though, she ran up against the same obstacle as Anya: travel visas were possible, but work permits were not.

Jane was the only child of a Bristol couple. After graduating, she worked in the Bristol University library for two years before losing both her parents in a car crash. A year later, after recovering from the shock, she went to spend a couple of months in Korengrad with Anya on a visitor’s visa. Their friendship grew apace and when seen together, they were sometimes thought of as sisters, they were physically so alike.

The following year, Anya came to Bristol, and enjoyed six weeks with Jane. Anya’s domestic life had also been disrupted, for while she had been living at home, her mother had developed Alzheimer’s and father had walked out. Now, two years later, she was cared for in a hostel.

They were both free agents, and an idea struck Jane. Anya’s English was very good, and Jane’s Russian was at a comparable level. With their similar appearances, was it possible that they could exchange their existences through their passports?

There was only one obstacle – how to achieve the swap? Could they do it when Jane visited Anya again in the summer?

“If …,” she thought, “ … if I went over on my British passport as a visitor, we could exchange them during my stay. She could come back to England using my return ticket and passport. To the authorities, I would just have been visiting. But I would then hold Anya’s passport so I would effectively be Anya and she would be Jane.”

They now communicated easily by email making their illicit scheme easier to develop. Jane conveyed the idea to Anya, and she jumped at tt. “Brilliant,” she replied, then added a note of caution, “but we’d have to make sure that we knew enough about each other’s lives so we weren’t tripped up.”

Jane saw the biggest problem in continuing in their present abodes and workplaces, for it was there that lapses of knowledge would be most likely to show up, but, equally, it was those places that they wished to experience in each other’s country.

“I’ll give up my job,” wrote Jane to Anya, “and I’ll rent a flat in another town that you can take over. If I move in my stuff just before I go to Russia, I won’t make more than nodding acquaintances, and people will just assume that you are me.”

Anya read the email, and pressed the reply button. “I’ll also give up my job, and we should be able to find a flat for you when you stay with me in the summer. We’ll have six weeks to go over all the detail, and hopefully find you a job. I’m sure we can sort everything out.”

Jane arrived in Russia in July, 2005, and after a couple of days, Anya suggested that they visit her mother in the hostel. “Stay outside the door while I talk to her,” whispered Anya, “and listen to all I say. Mother’s mind may wander, and it may be that she won’t recognise me, but it might be one of her better days. Wait for me to come out in about half-an-hour.”

Jane heard Anya’s conversation about her childhood and various memories, and eventually Anya said “I’m going away to work for two years,” pausing before saying, “but I’ll keep in touch by letter and postcards.” Jane heard the answer “Yes, dear,” but whether it represented comprehension, she didn’t know.

Then she heard Anya say, “I’m just going to the loo, mother, and I’ll come back to say Good-bye.” She motioned to Jane to accompany her, and they swapped jumpers.

“Now,” said Anya to Jane, “say good-bye to her as though you were me. See if she notices the difference.” Jane did as she was bid, saying “Good-bye, mother, I’ll keep in touch”, kissing Anya’s mother on the cheek.

She had clearly been accepted as Anya: she’d passed a first test, albeit of dubious standard, but encouraging, nevertheless.

Their time together went quickly, and they both began to feel comfortable in their alternative identities. They copied each other’s signatures with ease at a speed which would discourage suspicion, and agreed to use each other’s bank account. It was the ultimate trust.

Before Anya left for England, Jane found a job in a bookshop in the neighbouring town, and together they found a flat for her. They agreed that Anya would use Jane’s computer and email address, while Jane would use Anya’s. In that way, it would appear that they were both in their proper countries, should anyone with suspicions intercept their emails.

A last minute thought occurred to Anya. “I’m going to arrange for a copy of the weekly Korengrad regional paper to be sent to me, I’m not ready to lose touch yet with my home environment”

Jane seized on the idea. “Good idea! Can you arrange for me to have regular copies of the ‘Bristol Mercury’ sent to me?” Anya readily agreed explaining, “It will ensure that we don’t have an inexplicable lack of knowledge about our home environments when the two years are over.”

Anya left Russia convinced they’d covered every possible circumstance. She knew that she was unlikely to be checked leaving Russia, and scarcely more likely at Immigration at Heathrow, for she reasonably matched the British passport photograph. The immigration officer paused at the passport and then at her face: her heart was in her mouth. Then he gave her an English welcome: “Was the weather good for your stay?” She replied with a smile, “I could have chosen a better time, I suppose,” and passed through without a hitch.

She easily found her way to the Jane’s new flat, and the very next day she was looking for work, armed with a credible history to use if necessary. She didn’t need it, for gained the first post she applied for: serving in a café. This was ideal, as it would give her real insight into the language.

The days went by, with regular communication between them. Anya thoroughly enjoyed her life and new friends, but she also gained a persistent admirer. She was careful to keep him at a suitable distance, although she actually liked him. She was determined not to risk too much examination.

In her flat, she watched television, read the English newspapers and the Russian weekly, and exchanged emails with Jane, who was equally happy with working in a bookshop. Nothing happened to cause concern to either of them, and any doubts about their dubious actions disappeared.

After six months, Anya felt almost English. Emails between the two of them settled to a routine, and all the indications were that Jane was as settled as she was. The winter had provided a welcome diversion, since she had to learn about Christmas and New Year customs and festivities without admitting unrealistic ignorance.

In the middle of March, 2006, emails from Jane stopped. She wasn’t overly anxious, for she knew that occasionally some get lost in cyberspace.