by Ross Sayers
‘That right, aye? Didnae ken she hud a sister.’
‘Well, we used tae no get on… but we buried the hatchet last week. Anyway, ah need tae see her. Dae ye huv her address?’
In whit seems lit a miracle, he starts lookin up her details on the computer. Suhin’s finally easy fur me. He huffs and puffs as he clicks through folders.
‘Wait,’ he says. ‘Why dae ye need tae see her?’
‘Because,’ ah say, crossin ma fing’rs, ‘oor gran died.’
‘Aw, ah’m sorry tae hear that, hen. That’s no really an emergency, though, is it.’
‘How no?’
‘Well, she’s deid noo. If she’d been dyin, well that might huv been different.’
‘But… that’s no the emergency.’
‘Whit is then?’
‘Oor gran wis murdered. And the murderer left a note on her body sayin Jill wis next. So… ah’ll huv that address noo please, so ah will.’
Eddie’s laughter rings oot behind me as ah leave the counter empty handed. Ah go through the barriers wi Jill’s caird.
Ah’ll find a pub in the west end that’s open late. Ah’ll sit in the corner til 3 o’clock and take it fae there.
‘Yotta,’ ah whisper tae masel. ‘Ah might need a hawn fae ye soon, if ye’re no too busy.’
Then ah look at Jill’s staff caird again. Her details urr on it. Her hame address.
Jill’s flat is in a block right behind the Co-op on Great Western Road. Ah looked it up on ma new phone, probably usin up hauf the data jist tae start up Google Maps.
Ah get aff at Kelvinbridge. On the bridge, a rough sleeper sits in the freezin cauld wi his cardboard sign which looks ready tae snap in hauf.
Ah take a twenty-pound note fae ma new Topshop purse and crouch doon in front ae him. The money is nearly in his cup.
‘Whit urr ye gonnae spend this on?’ ah ask.
His hawn quivers, the cup jitterin between us.
‘Urr ye gonnae take it back if ah don’t say the right hing?’ he says.
‘Mibbe. Ye shid buy food wi this.’
‘Oh aye. Thur’s nuhin stoppin ye fae goin intae the Co-op and buyin me food, hen.’
‘Touché.’
Ah smile and drop the money in the cup.
‘Thanks,’ he says. ‘Huv a gid night.’
Great Western Road is a dark vein at this time ae night, takin folk fae the west end tae the heart ae the city or other way aboot. Folk walk by wi clinkin carrier bags and warm, smelly pizza boxes. Below the bridge, the walkway ootside Inn Deep is lit wi tiny white fairy lights and darkened by the shadows ae drinkers bravin the winter cauld. Below them, the freezin, chokin, invitin slosh ae the Kelvin rushes by. Naebdy wid notice a person caught in that current.
Ah cross the road. Jist roond the corner fae the Co-op is the gate ae the apartment block. A lone pigeon bops aroond peckin at the dirty groond.
It’s hard tae see the buttons and thur labels in the dark. Ah press the wan ah hink is hers. Thur’s twenty or so seconds ae silence then:
‘Hullo?’
‘Why hullo, Jill,’ ah say. ‘Guess who!’
Somehow ah can hear the eye roll through the intercom. Fortunately, it’s followed by a sharp buzz tae open the gate.
‘Second door on the right, second flair.’
The close is clean and the carpet is free ae stains. Thur’s even wee floo’rpots ootside each ae the first flair doors. The rent must be a pretty penny fur these flats.
Jill’s standin at her front door when ah reach her flair.
‘Hullo again,’ ah say, ma voice a soft, intimate echo, and ah’m jist a tiny bit oot ae breath fae the stairs. ‘Ah’ve re-evaluated yer proposal, and ah’ve decided that, aye, ah’ll take ye up on that offer ae stayin wi ye.’
She looks unimpressed and stays leant against the door frame, no leavin me enough room tae slip in. Unlike her, the flat looks cosy and invitin. Dark red walls, healthy plants on the landin, and heat fae the radiator seepin oot.
Jill’s fluffy kitten socks creep ower the widden divider on the groond.
‘Whaur did ye stay last night?’ she says. ‘Ah phoned aroond the shelters.’
‘A wee B&B that ah wid not recommend,’ ah admit. ‘Ah hud a win on the fitbaw.’
‘Clever,’ she says. ‘Ah bet ye hud a sure hing.’
‘Sure hing, that wis ma nickname in high school.’
She disnae know whit ah wis like in high school. Ah could’ve been a sure hing. Truth is, ah wis the opposite, but she disnae need tae know that.
‘Why urr ye here noo?’
‘The B&B thought ah wis… well, they thought ah wisnae gid enough fur them.’
She smiles and moves oot ae the way.
‘Sorry ah pushed ye,’ she says.
‘Water under the bridge,’ ah say. ‘Bridge over troubled water, etcetera. Us time travellers need tae stick thigether.’
Ah drop ma Topshop bag in the hall and Jill pits ma puffy jaiket ower a coatstand.
‘Nice bathrobe,’ she says. ‘They let ye keep it?’
‘Let is a strong word,’ ah reply. ‘Let’s say: accepted it as a write aff.’
Quickly scannin the flat, it looks tae be jist the wan bedroom and ah don’t see any men’s shoes or jaikets anywhaur. Some tension leaves ma shooders.
We move intae the livin room. Ah curl up intae a baw on the couch. The nearby radiator oozes warmth. A mini silver Christmas tree lounges in the corner. The telly’s on.
‘Aw, ah love Peep Show,’ ah say. ‘Ye don’t mind if ah jist rest ma eyes a minute here?’
Jill goes aroond the room tidyin, foldin back up an ironin board and closin the blinds.
‘Ye can sleep noo,’ she says. ‘But that’s two days ye’ve wasted. And if ye don’t save him, yer auld life is gone fur gid. And then ye’ll be stuck here lit me. And yer mum’ll huv tae deal wi her daughter goin missin and niver comin hame again.’
Ma eyes urr awready closed but ah’m listenin. Ah don’t point oot that Jill niver got hame again and it wisnae the end ae the world fur her. She got a job and a flat and enough money tae keep the heatin on full blast in the winter. But if ah brought that up, she’d start up again aboot how hard it wis tae make a new life and aw ‘the hings she hud tae dae’ and ‘the people she hud tae get in wi’. Yawn.
‘Ah’ve met ma stepda awready,’ ah say. ‘Ah hink ye wur right, ah need tae save him.’
Jill stops movin aroond the room. Ah sense her lingerin nearby. Ah open an eye and see her standin ower me. She drops a duvet and a pillow ontae me.
‘And?’
‘Ah tried tae change the timeline. So ma mum wid dump him and he’d huv tae leave Glasgow.’
‘Did it work?’
‘That’s a negatory, Jill. Turns oot Steven hus less ae a heart than ah thought he did. Ah mean, ah’m a wounded young lassie wi naebdy tae turn tae, and he ignores ma text? Ah might need tae save his life but ah’m no gonna be happy aboot it.’
Jill pits the telly aff and clacks the remote doon on the table. She blows oot a candle and a tiny plume ae smoke shimmies fae the wick.
‘We can decide on a plan of action the morra,’ she says. ‘Jist stay in the flat while ah’m at work and try no tae break anyhin. Ah’ll be back aboot four and then we can talk.’
‘Mmm,’ ah say, ‘plan of action. Talkin. Aye. Talkin’s ma favourite.’
Jill turns the light aff and closes the door ower. Ah hink aboot askin her fur a glass ae water but ah decide no tae push ma luck.
She got sent back tae save her friend Freddie but she couldnae dae it. Her pal died and she got stuck here forever. She failed.
Ah wonder whit happened. Ah wonder whit she tried tae dae tae stop it. Ah wonder if she’ll suggest the same hings tae save Steven. Surely it cannae be that hard tae save a life
?
29
A loud bang. Ah sit up on the couch. It’s light ootside. The livin room smells ae vanilla mixed wi the light stink ae ma B.O.
Ah make ma way slowly tae the windae. Doon on Great Western Road, a Co-op lorry’s arrived tae make its delivery. The driver’s unloadin cages full ae food on tae the pavement, the metal rattlin wi every roll ae the wheels.
Jill’s left oot cereal and coffee supplies on the counter fur me. The kitchen hus a black and red colour scheme which makes it seem lit nighttime even when the light’s on. A pile ae Domino’s, Pizza Hut, and Papa John flyers stick oot the top ae her recyclin box. Thur’s nae milk so ah make a black coffee and go back tae the couch.
As ah place ma mug doon, ah see Jill’s left me a handwritten note on the table. Ah must’ve been oot fur the count when she left it this mornin. Ah can usually sleep through anyhin, which made sleepovers in primary school quite a tense experience fur me.
The note reads:
Morning Daisy/Rose/Whatever it might have changed to in the last 48 hours,
To recap: we have a set amount of days before your stepdad dies. I don’t think you told me exactly when it happens? It’s two weeks to the funeral I think? So we have less than a week til it happens right?
If we can stop it, you’ll get your old face back, your old body back, your old life back. Back to being Daisy.
In my opinion, the best way to stop him dying is to befriend him. That means you have an excuse to be around him, and can be right by his side when he’s supposed to die. You can step in, phone an ambulance, get him help a lot faster etc.
I’ve come up with these questions. Have a think and we can discuss them later:
How did your stepdad die and how can you stop it?
Where and when did your stepdad die? Can you be there when it happens?
How will you befriend him? Does he have any hobbies you could join him in? Any similar interests with him?
Help yourself to anything in the fridge, and please feel free to use the shower. (Turn the shower dial to eight for about a minute to start, then turn it back to four for another minute, then back to around six before you get in. Trust me. But don’t use too much of my Bed Head conditioner please.)
See you soon,
Jill
She’s basically given me homework. Fantastic. When did she even huv the time tae write this? Must’ve been up late last night, the big swot.
Ah stick Frasier on and nestle back intae ma duvet on the couch. It only feels right watchin Frasier in the mornin. Watchin it at night wid feel unnatural.
Ah try and hink ae answers tae Jill’s time travellin questionnaire. But it’s jist so comfy on this couch, ah cannae concentrate and soon ah feel masel droppin aff.
The front door slams. Ah dig ma heid oot fae under the cover.
‘Hullo,’ ah manage.
Jill comes intae the livin room and slumps intae the chair by the windae. She pulls her woolly hat aff and gies her hair a quick rustle and flatten wi her hawns.
‘Efternoon,’ she says. ‘Whit a day, ah’ll tell ye. Smart Cards stopped workin fur aboot four oors so we hud tae issue free tickets fur hunners ae folk. And it’s no lit they thanked ye fur it. How wis your day?’
‘No bad. Ah hud Frasier til eleven, then Undercover Boss, then Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares, then Jingle All the Way was on STV, and then—’
‘Did ye answer the questions ah left?’
Oor eyes baith dart tae the page Jill left on the table this mornin. It’s untouched ink-wise, the pen she left sittin neatly by the paper wi its lid firmly on.
‘In ma heid, aye,’ ah say. ‘Pen and paper’s a bit auld fashioned fur me. In fact ah don’t even know if Rose can read or write. Ah might need tae learn hings aw ower again.’
Jill looks doon at her lap and takes a deep breath, lit a teacher who’s found a pupil wi a mooth full ae papier-mâché . She loosens her tie and takes it aff.
‘Oh-kay,’ she says. ‘Let’s go through them. Number one, how did yer stepda die and how can ye stop it?’
Ah pit ma hawn tae ma mooth as ah hink. Ah get a gid whiff ae the tangerine moisturiser that ah pinched fae Jill’s bathroom cabinet and rubbed intae ma dry hawns. Ah used her floss as well, which seems a bit pointless noo since ah don’t plan on visitin the dentist while ah’m in this body. Unless it’s a “if Rose loses a tooth, Daisy loses a tooth” type situation. Ah’ll need tae mind and ask Yotta if she ever re-appears.
‘The message ma mum left me said thur’d been trouble at the pub,’ ah say. ‘Ah hink that’s right, at least. And he hud a heart attack. Ah dunno if he wis fightin, or tryin tae break up a fight, or whit.’
‘Right, we can work wi that. Which pub?’
Ah shrug. Ah try and convey in ma facial expression that it’s a ‘ah’m sorry ah don’t know’ shrug rather than a ‘ah don’t care’ shrug.
You could just say it. Just say that you care. Oh no that would be too hard for big bad Daisy.
‘Okay,’ she says again. ‘Well, potentially a pub fight. That’s gid, actually.’
‘Is it?’
‘Compared tae some sort ae brain haemorrhage, it is. It needs tae be suhin ye can stop. Stoppin a heart attack’s near impossible, we’re no miracle workers, but stoppin the event that kick starts the heart attack, that’s mair doable.’
Jill kicks aff her shoes and takes a can ae Coke oot her bag. Ah wonder if aw her tastes transferred ower when she went fae Elouise tae Jill. Mibbe she used tae be a Pepsi gal. Ah wid ask her but ah’m fairly sure it’s a stupit question.
‘Ye’ll need tae make sure ye’re at this pub afore the trouble happens and get him away fae it. Whitever it is, whether he started it or whether he got caught up in it. Ye keep him away fae the fight, he’ll no get aw stressed and he’ll no huv a heart attack.’
Ah look doon at Rose’s body. Unfortunately, regardless ae whit strength Jill seems tae hink ah’ve got, ah wisnae blessed wi the body ae Dwayne ‘the Rock’ Johnson when ah got sent back. Ah wonder if ah’d asked Yotta nicely, whether she’d huv let me change tae a body ae ma ain choosin. Some combination ae Christina Hendricks and Drax fae Guardians of the Galaxy.
‘Aye,’ ah say. ‘Ah’ll jist stop a bar full ae big bruisers fightin, that’ll work. Easy peasy.’
‘Ah’m no sayin start throwin punches, Rose. Jist dae whitever ye can tae stop it. If you and Steven urr pals by that point, which we’re hopin ye will be, ye can mibbe talk him oot ae goin tae the pub awthigether.’
Ah stand up and move tae the ornamental fireplace, which is draped wi colourful fairy lights, currently turned aff. The mirror above the mantelpiece shows me a bedraggled lookin Rose. Ah don’t mind her nose, as it happens. Ah’d take her nose back wi me. But that’s it.
‘On the subject ae bein pals wi him,’ Jill says. ‘Whit does he like? Whit’s he intae?’
Ah flick the fairy light bulbs wi ma fing’r. Green and red and pink and yella and purple.
Ma mind plays ower the year or so Steven used tae visit the hoose afore ah moved oot. Ah ignored him whaur possible, takin pride in the fact ah didnae know anyhin aboot him. Ah managed no tae know he wis a binman so ah hink ah did a pretty gid job.
One time, ah’d come in fae school and Mum hud shouted me intae the livin room afore ah could escape tae ma room. Her and Steven wur watchin wan ae thur programmes, aw angry lookin folk in suits in offices, slammin their hawns on the desks every noo and again.
‘Your uni letter is in the kitchen,’ Mum said.
Ah mind bein annoyed. She could’ve jist left it on the stairs lit aw ma other post. It was ma acceptance tae Strathy. Ah went oot that night and got steamin on Strawberry and Lime Dragon Soop and hud tae stay on Hannah McBride’s big sister’s livin room flair cause ah couldnae walk and ah couldnae go hame in that state.
Ah picture the pair ae them on t
he couch as ah passed Mum the letter efter ah’d opened it.
‘Ah got in,’ ah said.
‘Magic,’ Steven said. ‘Pure magic, Daisy.’
He wis wearin an oversized top. Too big tae be a fitbaw top. It wis purple.
‘Ice hockey,’ ah say, comin back tae the reality ae Jill’s flat and ma strange reflection in the mirror. ‘Steven loved the ice hockey.’
30
In a lucky turn ae fate, thur’s a game tonight. Braehead Clan vs Sheffield Steelers. It feels lit ah’ve been gettin lucky, stumblin fae wan coincidence tae the next, but on the other hawn, ah’ve been sent back in time in the wrong body so ah reckon ah’m still in the red and Yotta’s definitely due whit’s comin tae her once this is aw ower.
Jill brings up the Clan site on her laptop and thur’s still tickets left so it looks lit ah’m aff tae ma first game. She hus a plan and a better phone voice than me so ah let her take the wheel on the plannin stages. She phones the box office.
‘Hi there,’ she says doon the phone. ‘I’ll tell you what it is, I’m looking to book a ticket for the ice hockey tonight…
‘…yes but I’m looking for a particular seat, you see…
‘…it’s my dad, it’s his birthday today and I’ve never been able to go to a game with him, so I was hoping you could give me the seat next to him, his name’s Steven McDaid…
‘…yes, but I’m sure you could find him if you tried…
‘…yes, but I’m sure you could make an exception…
‘…yes, but it’s quite a special occasion, it’s his fiftieth birthday…
‘…okay, yes, I understand. I’ll just take a standard ticket then. Yes, that sounds fine…’
A minute or two later, efter she’s went through her caird details, she hings up the phone.
‘Guess whit?’ she says.
‘The plan went perfectly and ye booked the seat right next tae Steven?’