‘I’m trying to sort out one set of memories from another. I have plenty of memories of that flat. It’s been my home for three years. But some of the memories don’t fit. At least I don’t think so, it’s so hard to tell, so I want to go back home and just see … see … if anything comes to me. You see?’
‘I – I – think so.’
‘It’s so hard to know what’s real anymore,’ said Tamar with a sigh. ‘What about you,’ she added suddenly, ‘don’t you feel like this, like there’s something you’ve forgotten about?’
‘Constantly,’ said Cindy.
‘I mean, you’re in some of my memories. I know that we must have known each other before. Don’t you feel it too?’
‘I try not to think about it,’ said Cindy, which was as good as an admission.
‘Well don’t,’ said Tamar, because if I’m right, then you’re not who you think you are either.’
‘Who is?’ said Cindy gloomily.
‘Why don’t you want to know?’
‘Because – well, what if the world has changed for the better.’
‘Better! How can this,’ Tamar swept an arm around the room in an encompassing gesture. ‘Possibly be better?’
‘Well, you don’t know. Neither of us knows, maybe we’re happier now than we were then. We have no idea what the world was like before it changed, just fragments no real picture.’
‘Oh I see, better the devil you know, is that it?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Oh, don’t be such a coward. Somebody messed with our lives, and I, for one, want to know who – and why?’
‘Besides, what if it’s better the other way?’ she added thoughtfully.
* * *
As Denny drove through the county of his birth, he was afflicted with the strangest feeling that he had landed on an alien planet. The Americans, like the Martians in the “War of the Worlds”, appeared to have transplanted a mysterious vegetation that had covered the land with stars and stripes. Every doorway, front porch and gateway, every pillar and portico, every tree and lamppost was festooned with fluttering banners. It made the whole world look like the Land of Oz, once dreary black and white, now in fabulous Technicolor. It made Denny depressed. He had once quite liked Americans – well, everybody needs somebody to look down on, but right now, he felt as if he would hate them all forever. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was reminded that from somebody’s point of view, that was probably the idea.
He had been having these thoughts for a while now, intermittently. The idea of a great cosmic conspiracy was growing on his mind. It certainly would explain a lot of things. And he was even having what he thought of as delusions of grandeur. That is, he thought that maybe it all had something to do with him personally – or at least, if not him, then certainly Tamar, and himself by association.
He put a lot of this down to his unwillingness to believe that ordinary human beings were capable of making purposeless war all by themselves, just because that was what they were like. He wanted it to be a conspiracy, a menacing shadowy plot in which humans were just the innocent pawns. A view that he knew was naïve in the extreme. But still the feeling persisted.
And yet, the Americans in particular, had swept across nations with frightening efficiency. And Denny supposed that they ought to be good at war if any nation was. They had certainly made enough films about it.
Of course, to be fair, they had also made a lot of TV shows about adolescent angst but it did not mean that they had the monopoly on it.
~Chapter Twelve ~
Home! It looked just the same as she remembered it, until she realised that her memory of late had not been terribly reliable. Perhaps home did not really look like this at all. Had never looked like this. No sooner had she thought this then the room seemed to change before her very eyes, just for a fraction of a second. It became far bigger for one thing. Behind her, she heard Cindy gasp.
She turned. ‘You saw that too?’
Cindy could only nod.
‘The room changed, didn’t it?’ Tamar persisted.
Cindy agreed to it.
‘Then it was real, it wasn’t just a memory.’ She looked around her as if she expected it to happen again. The room remained resolutely the same.
Disappointed but undeterred, Tamar continued in the same vein. ‘Then this means that the world is coming back – the other world, the way it was before, doesn’t it?’
She picked up a photograph of her and Denny; this had been taken about a week after they had first got together – at least she thought it had. Perhaps it had not; perhaps this photograph was not really here at all. She remembered it being taken, in one of those silly little passport photo booths. They had been nineteen, at college together. She remembered the night they had finally got together. Caught up in her incipient nostalgia, the world started to go wibbly round the edges. ‘Uh oh,’ she thought with that tiny unchangeable part of her that would always be sarcastic. ‘Flashback time.’
She had been dating a medical student at the time, wealthy and handsome of course. Although she still hung around with Denny. When they had walked into the swanky restaurant, she had been shocked to spot Denny sat forlornly alone at a table for six. What was he doing here?
She had thought quickly. When her date had gone to check her coat she made a swift phone call from the lobby the result of which was that, as a medical student, he was paged by the hospital, to assist the house doctor.
He apologised profusely and hurried away leaving her with her taxi fare and a promise to call her later. She was very understanding about it.
As soon as he had gone, she made her way over to the table where Denny was sitting and sat beside him without waiting to be asked. ‘Stood up?’ she asked. ‘Where’s your Indian friend?’
Denny’s brow furrowed. ‘Who?’
‘You know, Jon somebody. The one they call “Dances with trousers down”.’
Denny managed a weak smile. ‘Oh, him. He’s probably dancing – with his trousers down, at the “Slug and Lettuce”,’ he said. ‘I’m waiting for my parents and Miles. They visit once in a while. They’re always late. Well, it’s just me after all.’
Tamar pursed her lips. She had never met Denny’s family – he tended to keep people away from them, if he wanted to keep them as friends – but she had heard enough about them.
‘So, why do you bother to turn up on time?’ she asked.
‘Hah, well you just know that the one time I turn up late, they’ll be on time, and I’d never hear the end of it,’ he said. ‘It’s just not worth it.’
‘Why a table for six?’ asked Tamar puzzled.
‘Five really,’ said Denny. ‘Miles always brings his latest girlfriend with him. To rub my nose in it, I suppose. I always feel a bit sorry for them. My mother always disapproves of them, you see. She always manages to make sure I know that I could never get a girl half as nice, while at the same time indicating that she still isn’t nearly good enough for him. I’m used to it, but I always think it’s a bit rough on them.’
Tamar’s lips pursed again. Then her eyes twinkled. She called the waiter over and ordered a drink.
‘What about Mr. Perfect?’ asked Denny, as he always called the medical student boyfriend, although Tamar never knew whether he was being sarcastic or not.
‘Oh, he got paged,’ she said airily. Then she stood up to greet a couple who were headed for their table. The woman could not have been anyone but Denny’s mother. Not with that expression on her face.
‘I’m sorry …’ the woman began to express her doubt at Tamar’s presence.
Tamar cut her off. ‘It’s quite all right,’ she said sweetly. ‘We haven’t been waiting long.’
The woman’s mouth fell open. She had been put at an immediate disadvantage. Tamar had contrived to indicate that she had been rude and had then forgiven her. Denny gave her a look of pure gratitude.
Wrong footed, Denny’s mother sat down without another word, and now she
seemed uncouth, as it was left to Denny’s father to begin the introductions.
Miles, a younger edition of his bluff and brawny father had brought a fluffy blonde who introduced herself as ‘Lindi – with an i.’
‘Of course you are,’ said Tamar, saccharine sweet. She took Denny’s hand and squeezed it, then laid her head briefly on his shoulder, so that there would be no lingering doubts in anyone’s mind about their relationship.
Tamar, beautiful and intelligent, and witty to the point of being scathing, dominated the evening. As she had begun, so she intended to continue. She would bring them all down a peg or two. She managed to indicate that Lindi with an i, whom she really rather liked, was far too good for the likes of Miles, while her own dazzling presence was enough to show that, she would not quite be good enough for Denny. She made them all feel dull and stupid by her own sparkling repartee. Denny, she was pleased to note, was the only one who seemed able to follow her conversation. Denny seemed more like himself as the evening progressed. He was coming out of his shell in a fashion that had his parents and his brother staggered. Tamar had always known that beneath his shy exterior Denny was witty and intelligent, but it was apparent that, among his domineering family, this side of him had been ruthlessly suppressed.
Later there had been dancing. Tamar had been appropriated by Miles, who had flirted and been put back in his box in no uncertain terms. Then by Denny’s father, who had been treated to a display of quiet outrage, at his want of fatherly feelings when he had tried to indicate that surely, she was not serious about Denny, and surely, a girl like her could have any man she wanted. She hoped that her remarks would get back to Denny’s mother, who she was sure had put him up to it.
Then she had danced with Denny, and destiny had happened. It had started innocently enough really. Miles and Lindi were ostentatiously sucking out each other’s fillings, and Denny’s parents were watching them (Tamar and Denny) like a pair of starved rats after a flake of cheese. Tamar knew what they were waiting for. She snuggled closer and brought her mouth close to Denny’s ear. He jumped and reddened, and the moment was lost for now. ‘Thanks for doing this,’ he said.
She smiled ‘It was fun,’ she said.
‘Well, that’s not something I ever expected anyone to say about an evening with my parents,’ he grinned. She brought her face closer to his.
‘You don’t have to …’ he began.
‘Oh I think so,’ she said. ‘They’re watching us.’
‘You’ve done enough.’
‘Not quite,’ she reached her hand up behind his neck and kissed him on the mouth. ‘How was that?’ she murmured.
‘Amazing.’
Tamar grinned to herself. ‘What?’
‘Oh, er, yeah, very convincing, yeah.’
She did it again, just for luck. ‘I think I want to go home now,’ she said.
‘Whatever you want,’ said Denny. ‘I’ll get your coat,’ he hesitated.
‘It’s my blue one,’ she told him, palming him the cloakroom ticket.
He had walked her back up to her room, and she marched in leaving the door open for him to follow. He hesitated then followed her in leaving the door open. Tamar opened the window, knowing that sooner or later it would cause the door to slam without her having to make the effort to go and close it. She had thrown her coat on the bed, and now she was shivering in the draught from the open window, which she was stood right in front of. Denny came and stood behind her and draped his coat over her shoulders.
‘Do you believe in magic?’ she asked him suddenly.
‘What, like witches or goblins, that kind of thing?’ he said, surprised.
‘Well do you?’
‘I dunno, I suppose everyone would like to believe in that kind of thing.’
‘Well, destiny then, fate?’
‘Yes, I believe in that,’ said Denny.
The door slammed shut.
Tamar turned and enfolded herself in his arms. ‘Stay,’ she said
‘What about Mr. Perfect?’ said Denny.
‘Oh I think he’s already here,’ said Tamar, without cringing at all. Love can do that to a person.
‘Seriously,’ said Denny. ‘What about Christopher or whatever his name is?’
‘Oh, I think that’s over,’
‘Then I guess I’m staying.’
And that had been the beginning.
‘Tamar.’
Tamar came out of her reverie to the sight of Cindy’s concerned face.
‘Are you all right? You were miles away.’
‘I’m okay.’ Had any of that really happened? It was one of her favourite memories. ‘What if I lose it, if the world goes back? What if I forget?’
She pulled herself together. ‘I think I’ve seen enough’ she said, ‘Let’s go,’ and she suited the action to the word in the most dramatic manner. She vanished.
* * *
Denny was having a similar experience at the old house. As he drove up the approach, the house suddenly seemed to change before his very eyes then change back. He blinked. He had been having some strange feelings of déjà vu lately but nothing quite as concrete as this. For the house that had briefly appeared to him, had seemed far more, familiar than the one that now loomed over him in the grey light of a December morning. And yet it was as unreal a looking place as you were ever likely to see, it had had turrets for God’s sake. They were gone now, but he had seen them as clearly as he could now see the anxious looking soldier heading towards him. It had not been as if he had had an hallucination, it was more like he had been wearing a blindfold that had slipped for a moment to give him a glimpse of something he was not supposed to see and had then been replaced. Brought back to reality (or unreality as the case may be) he slowed the jeep and wondered what he was going to say about his presence here. Too late, he realised that he had forgotten all about his cover story.
The soldier with the bright blond hair walked up to the jeep and saluted Denny. Denny saluted back, while trying to think quickly.
‘Second Lieutenant Jamie Adams,’ said the soldier. ‘We were beginning to think you were never coming.’
Ah, here was an opening, if he could only find out who he was supposed to be.
He climbed out of the jeep slowly and extended his hand. ‘Second Lieutenant Chip Bentley,’ he said, remembering to use an American accent.
The soldier nodded. ‘The prisoners are in the cellar,’ he said. ‘And I must say, I’ll be glad to have them off my hands, I don’t like the responsibility and that’s a fact.’ He walked as he talked. ‘It’s hard enough to keep the lads in order without women about. You know what I mean?’
Denny’s heart soared. Not only did it appear that Tamar and her friend were here, safe and alive. But better than that, he had been taken for the prisoner of war transport officer. Not only would he not be prevented from taking them, he was actually expected to take them away. It really could not be better.
‘Nobody’s been near them, you have my word on that, except the lad who takes them food and he’s only about ten years old. He never says a word, scared to death I guess, poor thing. It’s been rough on him.’
Denny found himself liking this man, and he would always be grateful to him for protecting Tamar as best he could under difficult circumstances. He did not know who “the lad” might be, but he guessed that he was probably one of the myriad servants that Tristan had always kept about the place. Well, he would take him away too, and if the soldiers did not like it, they could stuff it. He did not wonder why the soldier did not mention Tristan; he knew what was likely to have happened to him – poor Ophelia.
‘Do you want to see the CO?’ asked the soldier.
‘I don’t see why?’ drawled Denny, keeping his voice as casual as possible, though his heart was beating like a piston hammer. ‘I’m already late enough, without a lot of red tape holding me up even more. You know what these Colonels are like.’ Denny was taking a chance with this line. But surely, Colonels were alike
in every army, and their subordinates likely to react to them in the same way.
‘I sure do,’ the soldier laughed.
And Denny breathed a sigh of relief.
‘It’s probably just as well,’ the soldier told Denny. ‘I think the old coot’s still asleep,’
Denny laughed as well, this time.
They made their way down to the cellar. Just as they reached the bottom step Denny saw his surroundings change again, from a dusty but well-ordered wine cellar to a huge dungeon with rows of cells lining each side and back again. The soldier did not seem to notice anything. Still it was dark down here, and it had only lasted a second.
‘In here,’ said the soldier drawing out a large rusty key and opening a small door in the back of the cellar. He went in first; Denny followed him. The room was small and bare. There was no place to hide. Not even a shadowy corner, it was brightly lit from a small grate above their heads, too small, it need not be said, to admit a full-grown woman through it. So where the hell were the prisoners?
‘Where the hell are they?’ said the soldier in honest astonishment. ‘They were here. They were right here?’
‘So, where have they gone?’ asked Denny, forgetting, in his panic, to use his American accent. The soldier turned in surprise. ‘Hey…?’ he said. He never got any further. Realising that he was busted, Denny swung round and kicked the soldier’s legs from beneath him, he never knew how he did it. The keys skittered across the floor. Denny grabbed them and locked the door. He knocked the soldier backwards as he came after Denny for the keys. He never knew where he got the strength, but it held. After a short tussle, the American lay on the floor panting and nursing a bloody nose.
Denny slowly and deliberately pocketed the key and stared down at the man on the floor with a gaze that could have cut diamonds. It said: ‘You’re not going anywhere pal.’
Jamie believed it.
‘All right you Yank bastard,’ said Denny. ‘Where the hell is my wife?’
* * *
Of course, she reappeared again immediately, but Cindy was in no doubt as to what she had seen.
The Day Before Tomorrow Page 6