Daisy on the Outer Line

by Ross Sayers

  ‘That nearly happened tae me,’ ah tell her. ‘But ah managed tae sneak oot afore ah saw masel. Whit happened next?’

  Jill curls her hawns aroond her glass.

  ‘Ah screamed and ran oot the flat.’ She points at her chest. ‘Ah did. The new me. Me that’s sittin in front ae ye the noo. Jill.’

  ‘But if you saw you…’

  Ah pause. Ma brain is strugglin tae keep up.

  ‘If the auld you,’ ah say. ‘Elouise, saw the new you, Jill… then surely ye shid’ve awready been through that? See, two weeks ago, ah remember hinkin thur wis somebdy in ma flat. Ah remember that. So when ah wis in ma flat jist there, ah knew ah hud awready lived through that. Ah definitely wid’ve remembered actually seein somebdy.’

  ‘And ah did,’ Jill says. ‘Ah did remember it.’

  Jill brushes her hawns through her hair. She slips a scrunchie fae her wrist intae her hair and pits it back intae a ponytail. Ah wonder whit she actually looks lit. Ah wonder whit Elouise looks lit. Ah want tae ask her how long it took tae get used tae seein the wrong face in the mirror but ah’m no sure ah want tae hear the answer.

  ‘A few weeks afore,’ she says. ‘Ah hud went hame and found a strange lassie in ma bed.’

  Ma mooth automatically opens tae make a joke. Ah close it back ower.

  ‘She screamed, ran oot the door and ah niver saw her again. Ah’d nae clue who she wis or how she got in the flat. Ah phoned the polis. They said she wis probably jist a rough sleeper who’d found an empty flat and decided tae chance her luck. Ah wis pretty nervous comin hame for the next wee while efter that. Turns oot it wis me. It wis… Jill.’

  Jill twists a ring on her middle finger. Her skin goes pink and white, hundreds ae tiny criss-crossed wrinkles smoothin oot and reappearin near her knuckles.

  ‘Ah tried findin Roger again,’ she says. ‘But there wis nae record ae him ever workin fur the subway. They telt me it must’ve jist been some guy wearin the uniform fur a laugh. Ah niver saw him again.’

  Ah can tell fae the way she talks that she’s telt this story hunners ae times in her mind. Ah wonder if this is the first time she’s said it oot loud.

  ‘But… ah hink they felt sorry fur me, that day ah went and asked aboot Roger. They took me through the back, gave me a cup ae tea. They telt me they wur gonnae be lookin fur new staff in a few months.’

  She hauds her palms up tae the ceilin, as if ah can fill in the rest ae the story masel. But thur’s so much ah still need tae know.

  ‘So it’s happened tae baith ae us,’ ah say. ‘We baith went back in time. And we baith woke up wi different faces.’

  She stares at her cola lit she’s hopin it’ll change intae suhin stronger. Part ae me wants tae help her. But ah cannae help her unless ah help masel first.

  ‘Ah can jist aboot deal wi the time travel hing,’ ah say. ‘Ah’ve seen Back to the Future enough times. But why dae we huv different faces and bodies? Marty McFly got tae keep his.’

  ‘Ah don’t know fur sure,’ Jill says. ‘They first couple ae years wur the worst—constantly hinkin ae theories tae explain it, as if ah could still change hings back tae the way they were. But in the end… nuhin’s gonnae change it. At some point, ah stopped tryin tae explain it.’

  She shrugs, as if that’s it. That’s aw she gonnae gie me. That’s aw she can gie me.

  ‘Anyway,’ she says. ‘Ye can stay wi me fur noo, while we…’

  Jill goes on and ah struggle tae pay attention. Ah don’t even fancy ma pint anymair. It’s went right tae ma heid. Tae Rose’s heid. Course ah’d get pit in the body ae a lightweight.

  Ah’ve no mentioned Yotta tae her. She couldnae find this Roger guy but ah could still find Yotta. She’s ma last hope and ah don’t want Jill tae take her away fae me yet.

  ‘Wan bit ae advice,’ she says, and suddenly ah remember ah’m in a Hard Rock Café wi a fellow time traveller. ‘While ah remember. Don’t go and see yer family.’

  ‘How no? No even ma mum?’

  ‘Especially yer mum. Imagine goin tae see yer mum and she disnae recognise ye. Imagine her starin right through ye lit a stranger. Imagine her walkin away fae ye when ye need her the maist. Trust me. Don’t go and see yer mum.’

  Ah can only assume Jill went tae see her mum at some point and it didnae go well. Ah hink a visit tae ma mum wid actually go better if she saw me as a stranger.

  ‘Ah don’t mean tae be rude,’ ah say. ‘But… ye gave up? That’s you accepted it noo? Ye niver got back tae yer real life and ye’ve stopped tryin?’

  She pinches her lips thigether.

  ‘Aye, and believe me, once it’s been a month or two, you’ll be the s—’

  ‘Did ye try?’

  No Doubt is the next band on the playlist. Thur’s a shift change behind the bar and the two barmen are chattin. Wan flicks his heid ower at us, as if tae say ‘keep an eye on they two troublemakers’.

  ‘Course ah tried,’ Jill says, in a pure teacher voice. ‘Ah wis on that subway mair times than a Govan rat. Inner, outer, it didnae matter. Ah got blackoot drunk and fell asleep on the last subway, didnae work. Ah took sleepin pills and rode that hing so hard ah nearly got banned cause they thought ah fuckin lived doon there.’

  Jill takes oot her purse and slides a caird across the table tae me. The table’s sticky and ah peel the caird aff wi ma fing’rnails.

  ‘Take that,’ she says. ‘So ye can check fur yersel. Ah know ah’d want tae try if ah wis you. It’s ma spare subway caird. Free travel. Try as many times as ye want.’

  On the caird, Jill’s smilin face stares back at me. Ah pit it in ma pocket.

  Then she says suhin that takes me by surprise, in whit’s awready the maist surprisin day ah’ve hud in quite some time.

  ‘Huv ye lost someone important recently, Rose?’

  The question takes me aff guard. Fur wan, because she calls me Rose. Ah stare intae the dregs ae ma pint. Ah don’t even mind finishin it.

  ‘Important might be pushin it,’ ah say. ‘But ma stepda jist died. How?’

  ‘Well, it’s jist a theory ah iways hud. Suhin Roger said afore he sent me back. That ah hud a life tae save. It might be the same fur you. Ye might huv been sent back tae save him.’

  18

  The water fae the tap feels cool on ma skin. On Rose’s skin. Ma hawns weave under the tap and ah splash some on ma face. Ma reflection looks back at me. Ah don’t hate ma new face. Thur’s a lot ae similarities and it’s nae wonder Sam thought ah might be related tae Daisy. Mibbe ah could get used tae a new face every noo and again. It’d make goin fur nights oot back in East Kilbride a lot easier. No huvin tae worry aboot folk fae high school tryin tae talk tae me.

  But it’s no me. Ah’m Daisy, no Rose. This person starin back at me disnae belong tae me.

  Ah gave masel a once ower in the cubicle, since ah wis finally alone. No a huge difference fur the maist part. Rose’s nipples huv jist as much hair aroond them as mine dae so nae luck there. It’s actually kind ae nice, ma body dysmorphia husnae taught me tae hate everyhin aboot this body yet.

  The toilet door opens and Jill joins me in the bathroom.

  ‘Sorry,’ she says. ‘Ah don’t mean tae check up on ye, but ah thought ye might try tae bolt.’

  ‘It’s no lit ah’ve anywhaur tae go,’ ah say.

  Ah go tae the hand-dryer. The room is filled wi the whooshin sound ae the dryer and ah gie Jill a polite smile as we wait fur silence tae talk again. Ah leave ma hawns in fur longer than needed, until the last water droplet trickles backwards up ma wrist.

  ‘Ye hink that whitever entity sent me back in time,’ ah say. ‘Did it so ah can save ma stepda?’

  ‘If ah hud tae bet,’ Jill says. ‘That’s whit ah’d pit ma money on. Ah hink ye’ve been given a second chance… jist lit ah got wi Freddie.’

  Ah pull ma sleeves back doon, coverin
these pale arms ah’ve been given.

  ‘Who’s Freddie fur a start?’

  Jill leans against the wall, her heid restin on a torn poster fur a bonfire night party.

  ‘He wis ma friend. We met in high school. Ah moved schools midway through fifth year and he wis the only yin who spoke tae me, helped me wi ma Highers and that. He passed away a couple ae weeks afore ah got sent back. It hud been a while since ah last spoke tae him.

  ‘Roger mentioned him, that night on the subway platform. He said ah hud a second chance. Ah didnae know whit he meant until later. Ah tried tae save Freddie but…’ She lowers her heid and the poster crumples behind her hair. ‘Ah couldnae. Ah couldnae change anyhin. It wis impossible.’

  Jill’s tremblin. She clasps her hawns thigether tae stop them shakin.

  ‘Ye’ve been given a second chance, Daisy. If ye could save him, there could be a chance fur ye tae get back.’

  She’s alternatin between callin me Daisy and Rose, as if she’s no sure which name is right.

  A blonde lassie comes intae the toilet. We turn oor heids towards her.

  ‘We’re huvin a meetin,’ ah say. ‘Time travellers only, d’ye mind?’

  She turns and leaves withoot a second thought.

  ‘Who’s sayin ah even want tae save Steven?’ ah say.

  ‘Well, d’ye want yer auld face back? Yer auld life back?’

  ‘And savin a random guy’s gonnae get me that back? Ye’ve nae idea if that’ll work. Folk die, Jill. It’s no up tae folk lit me tae play God. You clearly didnae save this Freddie guy and noo ye work fur the subway. Furgive me if ah don’t follow in your fitsteps.’

  She pushes me and ah slip and hit the deck. Ah land on a wet patch and don’t look back up, hopin she can resist punchin me in the back ae the heid. Ah feel her standin ower me.

  ‘Ye’ll dae whit ae tell ye,’ she says. ‘Or ye’re on yer ain fae here. Dae ye realise how fucked ye urr? Dae ye know how hard it is tae live when thur’s nae record ae ye? D’ye realise whit it takes tae create a hale new identity? The hings ye huv tae dae? The people ye huv tae deal wi?’

  ‘Aye, aye,’ ah say tae the flair tiles. ‘Ye’re bluffin. You need me.’ Ah stand up and look her in the eye. ‘You need tae see whit happens if ah save ma stepda. Ye’re stuck here workin at the shitey, time travellin subway until ye can work oot how tae get back. And ah’m the best chance ye’ve got.’

  Anger beams oot her eyes and hits me lit lasers. She turns and leaves. Through the open door ae the bathroom, Blitzkrieg Bop ramps up.

  Buchanan Street’s got busier ower the last couple ae oors. A beardy guy in a leather jaiket is playin I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday on a tatty acoustic guitar, and gid lookin lassies in bright yellow kagools urr tryin tae stop folk tae talk tae them aboot wildlife conservation. Thur mainly targetin the men and it seems tae be a winnin strategy.

  Ma stomach rumbles and ah regret no askin Jill tae buy me a burger at the pub. Ah could easily find her again at her work, but ah don’t want barred fae the subway. She’ll come and find me eventually. She needs me and she knows it.

  Ah huv the tenner ah swiped fae ma stash, but ah don’t want tae break that jist yet. Ah approach the busker playin Wizzard. As ah get tae his guitar case, ah lean forward and pit ma hawn intae it. Ah make eye contact and he smiles.

  ‘Thank you,’ he says, wrappin it quickly roond the lyrics.

  Ah slip some money fae the case. My hawn hits the other coins, makin a janglin sound. The guy’s too busy lookin at ma cleavage tae notice. The cleavage that’s buried beneath ma jumper. Ah huv not one sliver ae skin on display and yet… This isnae exactly an original thought but: fuckin men, eh? Fuck’s sake.

  The money ah swipe is enough fur a meal deal fae Sainsbury’s. Ah get a chicken and bacon sandwich, a Dairy Milk, and a bottle ae Pink Lemonade Lucozade. Growin up, when ah wisnae well, ma mum wid rush oot tae the shop and return wi a six-pack ae Lucozade lit that wis mair important than any medicine on Earth. It wis the only time we’d huv fizzy juice in the fridge and in a weird way it made me quite look forward tae gettin the cauld. And tae this day, Lucozade’s still ma go to if ah’m no quite feelin masel.

  Ah eat ma lunch on the Concert Hall steps. Buchanan Street stretches fur ages in front ae me and Argyle Street is a tiny line on the horizon. The busker finishes his set and tidies away his gear. Ah throw a crumb fae ma piece and three pigeons fight ower it.

  Further along ma step, ah notice a guy checkin me oot. He turns tae face the other direction when ah look at him. It’s Robert. Six-fit-four Robert who goes tae purveys wi lassies on first dates. Correction: six-fit-four Robert who’s gonnae go tae purveys wi lassies on first dates. He’s blissfully unaware ae whit oor first date is gonnae be like.

  Ah finish ma piece, stick the chocolate in ma pocket and go and sit next tae him.

  ‘Ah saw ye lookin,’ ah tell him.

  Robert rips oot his earphones. His music’s still playin and the earbuds lie in his lap lit tiny speakers blarin static.

  ‘Aye, sorry,’ he says. ‘Ah thought ye looked lit somebdy ah know. Somebdy fae ma uni course. Ah didnae mean tae stare, sorry.’

  Ah tilt ma heid. Ah’m tryin tae go fur flirty but it probably looks lit ah’ve got a crick in ma neck.

  ‘Daisy Douglas?’ ah ask.

  He near enough jumps back, then looks aroond tae see if anyone’s watchin us. He adjusts his yella woolly hat and frowns.

  ‘Aye,’ he says. ‘How did ye know that?’

  ‘Ah get it a lot,’ ah say. ‘Me and Daisy urr pals, as it happens.’

  ‘Aw really? That’s mad.’ He seems genuinely tickled by this. ‘Youse look lit sisters or suhin. That’s mad.’

  Ah tilt ma heid the other way.

  ‘D’ye fancy her, aye?’

  ‘Eh,’ he hinks, and looks lit he’s giein it serious thought. ‘Kind ae. Promise ye’ll no tell her?’

  Ah cross ma heart wi ma fing’r.

  ‘Promise.’

  ‘Every time she comes up on ma Tinder, ah jist close the app,’ he says. ‘Ah don’t want tae swipe right on her in case she disnae dae it back. But then ah don’t want tae swipe left in case she actually does swipe right. Either way, it wid make oor seminars dead awkward. Ah wis jist gonnae wait til the end ae the year when oor classes urr finished. Unless… ye wanted tae pit in a gid word fur me?’

  Ah stand up and take a swig ae ma Lucozade. Thur’s mair sugar in the Pink Lemonade than any other type. It’s lit drinkin a Disney fulm.

  ‘Ah’ll dae ye wan better,’ ah say. ‘Ah’ll tell ye a sure-fire way tae impress her. Ye know whit she really likes? And this might surprise ye. She likes it when guys super like her on Tinder.’

  ‘Surely no.’

  ‘Ah’m tellin ye. You super like Daisy and ye’ll be in wi a chance. Make sure yer bio says how tall ye urr though. And if she asks, tell her yer favourite Frightened Rabbit album is The Winter of Mixed Drinks.’

  ‘Aye?’

  ‘Aye. And, don’t tell her ye heard this fae me, but she’s dynamite in bed. That’s whit everybody says. Ye can ask anybody. She’s definitely no a vir… she’s experienced, so ye can be sure she knows whit she’s daein. She’s a bit ae a wind-up merchant but she’s worth it.’

  Robert opens his mooth tae speak but ah don’t gie him the chance. Ah don’t look back as ah make ma way doon the steps. Ma hawn finds Jill’s subway caird in ma pocket, still sticky fae the table in Hard Rock.

  Let’s go roond again.

  19

  The Cowcaddens subway feels different in the daylight. Lit aw the ghosts and ghoulies only hing aboot here at night.

  Ah came up here tae avoid any chance ae bumpin intae Jill again. Ah press her staff caird tae the sensor on the barrier and it opens. Ah avoid lookin at the staff in case they recognise me fae last night. Then ah remember it wis Daisy�
��s face they saw last night and ah’m certainly no wearin that the day.

  The inner line rolls intae the station and rattles in ma ears. A lone woman gets aff and rushes past me, probably late fur work. Ah get on the quietest carriage ae the three and slump ontae a seat.

  Thur’s fifteen stops on the Glasgow Subway, eight on the north side ae the river, seven on the south side. (Sixteen, if Yotta’s right and thur’s a secret yin under the river but ah’m no so sure aboot that.) Thur’s two minutes between stops, although there’s some stops that feel closer than others. (Ye could probably race the subway on fit as it leaves Buchanan Street and get tae St Enoch afore it.)

  So a full cycle takes aroond thirty minutes. That’s a long time, especially withoot music tae listen tae. Wi every stop ah resist the urge tae jump aff and ask someone whit date it is.

  While wur in the dark tunnel, haufway between Cessnock and Kinning Park, ah realise thur’s another woman on this carriage who’s been on since afore ah got on. She’s wide awake, her eyes zoomin between the advertisin boards lit she’s at Wimbledon. Her hair is greasy and she wears yellow ribbons roond her wrists.

  She finally gets aff at Bridge Street. She stands up and moves tae the exit, but afore she goes, she leans back intae the carriage and makes eye contact wi me.

  ‘Good luck,’ she says.

  The doors close and she’s gone.

  It’s a relief tae get aff again at Cowcaddens. The air seems caulder noo. Ah rush up the escalator, tellin masel this is the kinda cauld ye only get on December 23rd.

  Ma eyes take a little time tae get used tae the brightness after bein in the dim artificial light ae the subway fur thirty minutes. It’s deid ootside and thur’s naebody tae ask whit date it is.

  Ma belly rumbles again but ah don’t want tae crack open ma Dairy Milk jist yet. Ah try tae ignore the hunger as ah walk past a line ae cars, thur windscreens iced ower. A traffic warden is lookin in windaes, wan by wan, squintin at the tickets.