Who Stole My Life?
Page 32
I nod briefly to Helen's speechless colleagues and turn and walk towards the others. As I join Stu and Richard I smile for the cameras and turn to see the last of the other PHI Partners walking out the door, Helen following quickly behind them.
Chapter Thirty Nine
Time Rolls By
.
The next two weeks roll by, the days blending quickly from one into the other. Work intensifies, Jane and I improve our relationship in many ways, but become more distant in others. And I become friends with the children. Yet, try as I might, I make no progress in developing any paternal feelings towards them. True, I laugh and smile when I play with them, and Elspeth is a real cutie, but at the end of the day, I am happy when Jane takes them away, puts them in bed, and they are gone. Not once have I found the desire to stand at the doors to their bedrooms and gaze silently at their pretty little faces as they sleep, full of any sort of pride. A stark contrast to how I feel about Keira and Nicole.
More nightmares. Each one more desperate than the other. I wake up sweating, my heart racing with fear and longing, my hand reaching out into the night, trying to touch the vision of a family, my family, waiting for me and crying my name, in a world beyond my reach.
Each time it becomes more difficult to explain to Jane who Sarah is. And now she is asking who Keira and Nicole are too, and I feel that the time is soon coming when I must tell her the whole story. Yet, I know that to do so, would be to give up all possible hope of any normality in our relationship, and would lead to more problems than it would solve.
What if I never ever have the opportunity to make the journey back to my real life and my own world again? Should I divorce Jane and seek to start a new, separate life, or should I stay with Jane in the hope that I will learn to love her? I know the answer to that is no, but I cannot bring myself to face it. The truth of the matter is, that for now, she offers me support and comfort, and to walk away when she is trying so hard… I am a coward, and perhaps, if I admit it to myself, I am beginning to lose respect for myself. I should do what I know is right. I should. But I don't.
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The waiting increases the worrying, and my mind begins to ask questions, not all of which are helpful. Some of which I cannot answer, but which scare me just by thinking them.
The worst of these questions is one that comes to me in the middle of one night, and does not leave. It haunts me and does not go away.
The question is simple.
'When I made the jump into this world, what happened to the James Quinn who was here before I arrived? Where is he now?'
After a day I cannot stand it any longer, and I call the Professor.
"Ah," he says as he listens to me unfold the question, " I wondered how long it would take for you to come up with that one. I'd rather hoped you wouldn't think about it."
"You mean, you've already thought about it yourself?" I ask.
"Yes. Of course. It's a natural question to ask…" He replies.
"And? What is the answer?" I interrupt him, eager for him to put me out of my misery.
"Well, actually, there are only two really feasible answers that I can come up with. Firstly, and this is the most likely, there is no other James Quinn. You are him. After all, you look like him, you have all the same physical attributes as the James Quinn who occupied the world before you got here, so, ipso facto, you are him. It's just that, for some reason, you have adopted the memory patterns of a James Quinn from the other timeline. A timeline, which to us, does not exist. Only to you does it have meaning, and only to the grey matter in your mind. There is no physical manifestation of the James Quinn from another timeline, only a rearrangement of biological matter in your mind, a spontaneous shuffling and realignment of the neurons in the brain which, once complete, has formed another consciousness and a new personality with a whole new set of memories."
"Which means what? That the other timeline no longer exists, or that the James Quinn in the other world, where I used to be, has just ceased to exist, and has gone missing?" I ask.
"The latter, my boy. The latter. Which is the most likely answer. I mean, who's to say, that this sort of thing doesn’t happen all the time. After all, hardly a day goes by without the news reporting some person who is missing or has simply disappeared and is never seen again. Perhaps…"
"And what is the second likely answer that you found?" I push.
"The second? Oh dear, that one is a little more complicated. The mathematics show that perhaps you are physically the James Quinn from the other world, that you did physically cross over. And that the James Quinn that was here before you, could have been bumped into another world, or another timeline. Or simply ceased to exist."
"What do you mean 'bumped' into another world? You mean, he might have swapped with me? He might be back in my world, and he might be living with Sarah right now?"
"An interesting thought. But one which is not possible. And I mean not possible. You see, the James that was here before you, may now be somewhere else, but he is most certainly not in your old world, with your old Sarah. That is proved by the fact that your world and mine, your new world, are still attracted to each other and intertwined. As I explained before, the attraction between your old world and this one is that your old world is missing your physical makeup. It wants the physical matter back. There is a hole in the energy/ matter balance of the world you used to exist in, and the timelines are still interacting with each other in an effort to fill the void where you used to be. If the James who used to be here, is now there, there would be no such hole, no such void. There would be balance. With no more timeline intersections occurring down on the Jubilee Line. No, that much is clear, perhaps the James who was here, is now in another timeline, or another world, somewhere else, but for sure, he isn't in the world where you used to be. And you should be very grateful for that. Because otherwise there would be no opportunity for you to jump back. You would be here for good."
I am silent for a moment. I am not too sure that I have completely understood what the Professor has just said, but I catch the sense of it. Especially the part about the hole that obviously still needs to be filled.
"James," he eventually says. "Do not worry about this thing. There is much that is strange about this phenomenon. But, I promise you, worrying about whether there is another James in your world, just now, is pointless and wrong. He is not there. There are only two things that you should think about: either you are here only temporarily, and that the family you love is alone and waiting for you in your other world, and that you will return to them soon, or…, that if you are stuck in this world for good, how you should adapt to your new life here, and for that, you should focus only on your search to find Sarah here, in this world."
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I feel reassured by the Professor's words, and his logic. So, I decide that I must not worry so much about Sarah being alone in my old world…at least I shall try to think less about that, since there is little I can do but wait for the opportunity to jump back..., and when that will happen does not seem to be anything that I can influence. Instead, for now, I will worry whether or not she is going to respond to my letter in this world.
As the days roll by I become more nervous and more impatient. I carry my new Scotia mobile around with me at all times, permanently switched on, and I check it constantly, just in case I have missed a call, or I have accidentally switched it off.
Sarah will be back from holiday by now. She should have talked to Mary. She should have my letter. If she is going to, she should be calling me now, sometime soon. And yet, she doesn't. I don’t hear from her. My mobile is terrifyingly quiet.
The only people who really call me are other people in advertising, Jane, or Scotia Telecom. So few people have yet bought mobiles in this world. Which all means that the market opportunity for growth in mobile sales is vast. I'm not a gambling man, but knowing what I do, it would be foolish not to do something with the knowledge, so I start to in
vest heavily in Scotia Telecom stock. For a while I wonder if it is wrong, and feel a little guilty, as if I could be accused of insider-trading. Not because I work with Scotia, but because I know just how successful the whole industry is going to become. If there is anything I can learn from my world, I know that now the mobiles satisfy the Health and Safety requirements of the European Union, that sales will soar. Soon everyone will be carrying one. Soon the industry will become one of the largest in the world. Mobile phones will become the new tobacco. Within two to three years, the stock will rocket, and I will be rich. Very rich. Enough money to support Jane and the girls… and any new family I may have with Sarah, should I ever find her…With my thoughts moving to Sarah, I decide to put half the shares in the names of Jane and the girls, and I feel a little better, knowing that I am helping secure their future, whether or not I am part of that future.
In the meantime, as the weeks pass, I ride the Jubilee Line as often as possible. Watching. Hoping. Ready and waiting...
Nothing.
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The third week comes.
I am walking down the road from our offices towards Covent Garden, on my way to meet Stu Roberts in a pub after work.
My mobile rings.
I pull it out of my pocket, and look at the LCD display. "Unknown Number calling".
Interesting...
I hit the little telephone on the keypad, and speak.
"Hi, it's James."
There is silence at the other end of the phone, the sound of air.
"Hello?" I ask again.
More silence. I stop in the street and focus on the sounds at the other end of the phone. I hear breathing. Someone is there…
Click.
They hang up.
I go to Call Register, but there are no clues as to the number that called me. A wrong number? Perhaps.
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The next day I am in my office. It is 1 pm I have just returned from lunch, and am about to review some files that Tracy has left on my desk.
The mobile rings, and I pick it up. Unknown Number Calling.
"Hello?"
Dead air.
A slight sound of breathing.
"Hello? Is there anyone there? This is James Quinn."
Click.
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I am crossing the bridge above the Thames, midway between Embankment and Waterloo. It is 7pm later that same day, and I am on my way home.
Phone rings.
Unknown Number Calling.
Pick it up. "Hello?"
No one.
This is becoming annoying. Who is it?
Then a thought hits me. A long shot. But maybe?
"….Sarah? Is that you?"
I can hear the sound of heavier breathing. Almost as if the name has got a response…
"Sarah, is that you?"
Silence.
Then "Click".
And then it hits me, that perhaps it was Jane.
Testing me.
I worry about this all the way home, but when she picks me up at the station she is in a good mood. I ask her if she tried to call me today, this evening, an hour ago. She says no.
"Why?"
"No reason. Someone tried to call, but couldn't get through. I thought it must be you."
So who was it?
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By the end of the fourth week, I am very nervous. Sarah has not yet contacted me. Which means, that if she has chosen not to call, and if she has received the letter from her friend Mary, then my last chance of establishing contact with her is gone.
I'm 'at the bridge now'. And it's time to cross it.
Maybe Mary hasn't talked to her yet? How do I know if she has given her the letter? There's only one thing for it. I have to talk to Mary again…just to check…and to see if Sarah gave any reaction to Mary when she read the letter…
So Saturday morning finds me in the car, my dad being my alibi once again, and the pretext being a fishing trip somewhere north of the M25. Except this time, he actually comes with me. When we get to Ironbridge, it'll only take about twenty minutes to talk to Mary. The rest of the time, I could do with his company. In fact, why not get in a bit of fishing on the river while we're there?
The weather is surprisingly good for this time of the year. Next week will be the first week in November, and yet it’s still warm, and the sun is shining.
It's two-and-a-half hours drive up to Ironbridge, and once again, the journey to see Mary brings with it a sense of foreboding. In my subconscious I can feel the stirrings of dark memories, even fear, an association to do with the time Sarah left me to stay with her, and the reasons she did.
I try to steer my thoughts away from this by talking to my dad, and for what I think must be the first time in my life, I ask my dad about how he courted my mother. How long did they go out for, what was dating like in his day, how did they get engaged? My dad, relaxed and enjoying the trip, the first time he's been out of London for months, opens up and tells me a lot that I never knew. I learn about their romance, the first time they kissed, and the night he got down on one knee during dinner in a restaurant in Paris, the first time they had been abroad together. We laugh together, we joke, and it's like talking to a good friend.
As we approach Birmingham, I fight with the temptation to ask him about the affair, who the other woman was, and how he met her. Then I remember the promise he made me make, and I manage to suppress it, and the conversation moves on.
The only time the conversation sours a little is when we briefly discuss the plan of action for the afternoon. My father is still uncomfortable with me pursuing another conversation with Mary. "Let it be", he says. "That avenue hasn't worked. You have to find another. If she got the message from Mary, she would have called you if she had wanted to."
We stop for lunch in small village somewhere outside Telford. Steak and kidney pie and mash. Good home cooking, washed down by a pint of Guinness.
We park down the road from Mary's house, and I walk along the street, leaving my dad in the car with a newspaper, but pretty sure that he'll soon close his eyes and take an afternoon nap. He won't miss me.
I knock on the door, and wait for the sound of the dog barking.
Silence.
I knock again, and then once more, but it soon becomes evident that no one is at home. Blast!
I am just about to turn and leave when a big wet tongue licks my cheek, and the weight of Sam jumping up on me from behind catches me off balance and pushes me against the door.
"Sam! Sam!..Down boy!" Mary is shouting, as she hurries up the garden path behind him. "Sorry," she says, grabbing his collar and pulling him off. "It's strange, but he really seems to like you…Sit, Sam, Sit! Good boy…" And now, turning to face me, “Sorry, we were just out for a walk, it's a fantastic day." She says, while her eyes ask 'What do you want?'
"It's a lovely day. It's more like July than November." I reply. Small talk.
Then silence.
"I gave her the letter, James. She read it."
"Thank you. I just had to be sure…"
"So she didn’t call you then? I didn't think she would," she replies.
"Why not?" I ask.
"Because we don't know you. Try as she could, she couldn't remember your name and when she looked through her old school photographs she couldn't find you."
"That's because I was sick the day the photos were taken. I couldn't stand being photographed when I was younger because I had so many spots…" I lie.
"James, I like you, I don’t get any bad vibes from you, and Sam likes you too, and he's the best judge of character I know. But the thing is, it's up to Sarah, and what with all the shit she's been through with her ex-husband, she doesn't want anything to do with men just now."
"I was really hoping that maybe, you could have another word with her?"
Her look changes again, a few lines appearing on her brow as she becomes quite serious.
I feel myself turning a little red.
"No." I reply quickly. "No, nothing…"
"Then just leave it James. I'll tell her you came up again, but I'm not going to push it. It's up to her. To tell you the truth, if it was the other way around, I don't think that I would call you if I hadn't met you before. Not because you're not nice or anything, but just because,…well, you know…you can never tell, can you?"