I had no idea where this place was, or how to get in. George told me Jane had stayed closer to me than anybody else, and though he didn't approve of the contact she might have a key. Jane had told him she didn't, but he didn't believe her. She would have the key to her favourite brother's house.
George, whose mood I couldn't judge from our encounter, strange as it was, agreed to take me to the veterinary hospital in the Land Rover. Our journey there was almost in silence. The only thing he mentioned was my mother Iris, and the fact she was away visiting her sister for the day. George didn't want me upsetting her by turning up unexpectedly. Was he trying to say don't come back again? I think George didn't know what questions to ask or why he'd believed any of my explanation of amnesia. I think he was frightened of asking me anything and digging up my grubby recent past, distancing us again. Assuming now I was any nearer to him.
Jane was very busy with some wounded dog, and it took some time to see her. In front of George she was reluctant to admit she had a key to my flat. Luckily for me she had it in her rucksack; Jane didn't do the handbag thing. She gave it to me along with street name where the flats were situated, and told me she'd contact me later to talk to me about my amnesia. I was sitting morosely in a leatherette chair in a very smoky waiting room at the veterinarians, while Jane and George seemed to spend an age discussing something. Finally George walked by and squeezed my shoulders like a mate.
“It'll be all right. We'll sort something,” George said.
“Contact me later, Pete. Then you can tell me the real truth, and what your fucking scheme is now.” Jane hissed this out of earshot from George.
Before leaving I assured Jane I was genuine and not lying. I was having a big crisis, terrified about my missing years. I did tell her a little bit about this morning. My sister and I could always talk about things my brother and I could not. My father's death had faded quickly from my thoughts. Perhaps I'd already grieved too much for him. I had no way of knowing.
When I got outside again George had gone. I don't know if our reunion was too much for him, or he decided there were too many old wounds. There was a subtle sensation of change in our dynamic. If not back in the bosom of the family I was making some small headway, some move towards a normal life whatever that is.
What was normal for me in the last two years? I hadn't a clue. I decided to walk to see if I could remember anything, hoping I would pass something that jogged a memory from some dark corner. What I did remember was that walking was hard work. I must've got soft from driving the car, or my extra bulk made me heavy on my feet in my very smart shoes. I looked at all my surroundings remembering nothing.
A complete and utter void of two years stretched out behind me.
It took me the best part of two hours to walk to the flats, and in all that time the last thing I could possibly remember was walking through the battered, tired old door at The Cauldron. My best mate Bob accompanying me on a mission to lose our virginities.
I'd have to look Bob up. He would know something.
Back in the cancerous now, I decided my dreams were not a natural phenomenon. I was travelling somewhere, stepping over the edge into another dimension, this world but not this world. These experiences could be looked on as alternative life, the universe of joy, somewhere where love was waiting. It was at this point I decided there were two choices: the world of pain or promises of joy in another more brilliant and spectacular universe.
Sleep came, and to my great disappointment nothing happened that night or in the following three. I was sleeping not only in the night time but for many hours during the light of day. All this time nothing happened and I started to despair that I would never experience such vivid life changing moments again. The deep feelings of dread and a nagging knowledge of some twisted past deed had faded to nothing. The thing remaining constant was the sensation of deepest love. I wanted more. How long would I have to wait? Perhaps that was it, all I was ever going to get, or perhaps the next dream would drag me back into the yellow beast infested stinking cancer hell. Then it took me by surprise.
I wasn't in bed. I was watching a music programme on the television mostly with young artists, people I didn't know. Some were brilliant, and others were equally brilliant to other people's ears, but not mine. Halfway through a hypnotic set by a girl led band from the south, the music slipped into the subconscious after which it disappeared altogether.
The treatments left me chronically tired, and always on the edge of sleep. I was suffering from the cure (not the band). So the music passed from strange hypnotic instrumental melodies to the sound of hearing my train a coming!
No build up, straight in, I was there on the platform, and this time no pain from the harsh tarmac pushing up through my feet. I was wearing a very nice pair of brogues, very 1950s. Apart from that I hadn't changed. I was wearing what appeared to be the exact same suit, and I wondered if every fibre of it was new this time round, or it was the self-same suit that existed permanently in this parallel universe? If I got it dirty today would it be dirty the next time I wore it. This thought didn't last long as I was captivated by an aroma in the air. It wasn't a fragrance from one of the millions of flowers, but it was the most intoxicating smelling aftershave, impossible to buy in my world. I touched my chin caressing it, noticing it was incredibly smooth, shaved to perfection. In my other world I often went days without shaving, though I would not know this because the only reality now was this one. I looked at my reflection in the waiting room window. I was the handsome young guy waiting for one thing to make the day perfect â the beautiful girl.
Again my senses picked up the vibration of the train at a great distance, but this time it seemed to be running with the smoothness it didn't possess the first time I'd heard it. I was pondering on this visceral difference when I realised it was approaching with much less pressure in the steam, much less heat in the firebox. That was it, it was going slower. The train was winding down preparing to stop. With this possibility I felt a tingle of anticipation run through my whole body, bringing alive every nerve. I could feel my heart pumping a little faster and knew instinctively this time the train would stop. I understood it would not rush straight through the station. I would get a lot more than a glimpse of this beautiful girl. I would finally meet her face to face, and I had started to love her before we ever met.
As before the joy and the ecstasy built inside me, not to the same mind-blowing strength as before, but if I was going to meet this girl and it was as strong as before I wouldn't be able to speak or breathe. I would die of ecstasy the moment we were inches apart. The sensations felt in those next few moments were etched permanently into my brain, a curse in our world that would last all my life.
As the train slowed and the windows of the carriages flashed by I saw no girl. The train stopped in front of me. I scanned along all the carriage windows seeing nothing, I was starting to despair. Inside my entire body I had all the feelings of joy, so I knew the girl was close. My eyes darted along the brilliant reflections of all that glazing with no sighting. The disappointment was contrary to my inner sensations, but she wasn't in the carriage in front of me, or visible in any of the other carriages.
My heart was falling. No it wasn't, all my molecules were telling me she was close. The girl was pulling the window down on one of the carriage doors where she had been standing in the door space, invisible from my view but not invisible from my inner sense of her. Smiling with a radiance that took my breath away she looked at me with those amazing eyes.
At first I didn't think I would actually be able to speak. Then I thought if I do speak I will say something stupid. Finally, however, I managed a few words of greeting.
“Hello, it's wonderful to see you again,” I said. Later what struck me as odd was my normal voice has a strong northern accent. My voice was beautiful, moderated and balanced, all very correct, not my voice at all.
“Hello, Paul,” she said.
“My name is Peter,” I said, worried she may be here to meet someone else.
“No, not here, here it's Paul. In this universe that's your name,” she replied.
“I'm so sorry. I was very rude. Please allow me to introduce myself again,” I said, and continued, “Hello, I'm Peter, sorry, Paul! And who do I have the pleasure of greeting?”
“Jennifer,” she said. This was after a pause of a few seconds while she smiled at me, captivating me with every feature of her face. Her eyes were hypnotic⦠beautiful. The train let out a shocking ear-splitting sound distracting me from this vision. Something in the corner of my eye caught my attention, forcing me to drag my gaze away from Jennifer. The fat stationmaster jiggled in all his finery as he waved his gloriously coloured flag with the vigour of a nationalist fanatic. Two great jets of aromatic steam blew out from the steam boxes, and a double blow of the whistle indicated the train was about to move. Clouds of steam started to envelop me, and I was worried Jennifer would disappear from my view for eternity.
“Jennifer, will I see you again? I must,” I said, into the cloud of steam enveloping her.
“Tomorrow, I'm getting off the train. Tomorrow we will speak about our lessons,” she replied.
Then through the fog bank of steam she did the unexpected, blowing me a kiss, a very soft kiss. The most remarkable thing was I could feel it on my lips. It was as if she'd bent forwards giving me the very softest of kisses. I was entranced by this development so I reached forward and gently stroked her hair, touching it in my imagination, not touching the real thing because she was several feet away on the train. To my surprise she turned and smiled at me. I could send physical affection through the molecules in the air. It was a revelation like the bow wave in water. I could push the molecules ahead of me. This is how a kiss worked, I think.
To my delight she watched from the lowered window of that strange door and continued to smile at me as the train disappeared around a curve trailing its old-fashioned guards van that took her from my view, before it too was obscured behind a bank of brilliant flowers in the old railway cutting. Jennifer seemed as fascinated in me as I was with her. She wanted me for lessons or something. I wanted Jennifer in whatever form she came. I had to be with her.
I awoke into a world filled with dark thoughts, and the feeling that some time in my recent past I'd done something very evil, worried the police and the process of law would make me pay for my wrongdoings. I was burdened with a sick hollow feeling inside that would take a couple of days to fade.
Now I knew she was coming again tomorrow. So it was a good thing and a bad thing because I would see her again in that glorious parallel universe, and afterwards I would get more deep sensations of guilt. I could cope with the guilt. My life was full of horrors for me in every way, and one more horror didn't seem to add much to the burden.
At least she was coming tomorrow, but when would tomorrow be? Was Jennifer's tomorrow twenty-four hours later for her? That's if her universe had hours. If she came back one day later in the same timeline as I lived, and sleep wouldn't take me there for several days I would miss our next encounter. She may think I'd rejected her and I wouldn't be allowed back into the wondrous parallel universe. I couldn't make myself go there. This brought a growing anxiety that I would fall out of step with her by not visiting at the right time.
I knew after just two visits, a brief meeting, and one blown kiss that I felt more passionate for this spectacular girl than any physical contact experienced in my mundane life. I was addicted and craved these crystal clear experiences in the parallel universe, Jennifer's world.
Jennifer was in my head, in my life, never ever to be forgotten.
I got within a couple of hundred yards of the flats when the desire not to be all alone and frightened came over me. I didn't want to sit in a flat I didn't know, or search through drawers looking for clues about my own life. I wanted company, and I wanted answers, so I decided to visit my best friend Bob Wilson. He would know everything.
I wished later that I'd gone up there and looked around. The walk to Bob's was another long trek, but there was nothing better to do and I hoped the walking might clear my head. I may come across something to arouse a subconscious memory of my recent past; at this moment every detail remained a mystery. Sad to say it was to stay that way, but complications were about to set in, big style.
I arrived at Bob's sometime in the early evening. I could hear noises from the garage. Someone was in there working on something. With Bob it was always motorised. He was always trying to breathe life back into old parts often without success. On entering the dark oily space I found Bob in a pit beneath a MGB roadster sports car. He was consumed with an engineering mission hitting some component on the front suspension, whilst squirting oil onto it and working it hard. Due to his preoccupation he hadn't seen or heard me. When he did, however, it was not with all the joys of friendship.
“You can fuck off!” he said, then continued, “If you don't fucking go now, I'll hit you with this hammer and beat your brains in!”
“That's a nice way to greet your best friend,” I said.
With a surprising amount of venom he answered, “You're not my friend. You know we'll never be friends again⦠ever!” The ferocity with which he spat the last word shocked me.
At this he turned his back on me with a studied deliberation and continued to beat the car. I was speechless, standing there for some time before I finally tried to interrupt his work with another question.
At this point Bob raised his arm and pointed up the drive. This was done with a passionate thrust of the hand and a distinct look of the crazy.
“NO!” Bob shouted.
I think I got the hint, and for now I would let it rest, but I had to talk to him at some time to find out what had happened that night after we left the pub. It was obvious, however, that everything between us had changed and I was definitely not the flavour of the month, or, for that matter, the flavour of the year. I retreated up the drive, but after thirty feet or so the desire for knowledge forced its way out of my brain and across my lips.
“I want to talk to you, Bob, I'm coming back to see you, and regardless of what you say I want to know what happened after we left The Cauldron,”
Bob looked at me for a long time before saying, “You know what happened, and I will never speak about it, ever! You can come back here as many times as you like, until I have to hit you with a hammer, but I will never tell you what you already know.” Then with a deliberation that demonstrated his intent he closed the garage door. I could hear the sound of bolts being pulled, a clear message.
I would never visit or see Bob againâ¦
He wasn't going to allow me to explain I didn't have a clue about two years ago. It was obvious my appearance had been an enormous shock for Bob. So it was back to the block of flats, I wondered what my home would look like.
I was walking through the estate, now in complete darkness, with the wild scramble of thoughts in my head no more coherent than hours before. My hangover, thankfully, had gone. I was very near Sam's house and I wondered if my car was locked. Perhaps I could sneak into the drive and have a look in the glove box. I had a vague idea somewhere in my head that I might find something significant, a clue to my recent past, it was only an idea, but compelled me to look.
Of course I didn't manage the full sneak into the drive bit, find a clue to my past life and exit without detection. I did find something, a part of my missing life, but it wasn't in the car. Any more surprises today you might ask? There were many more surprises in store today; life couldn't be that easy, could it?
Have you ever tried to walk without sound up a gravel drive in the deadly quiet of early evening? This, I assure you, is impossible! I had found the car unlocked and discovered another bunch of keys in the glove box. Some of the keys appeared to be the same as on the other bunch, others totally different. I started to wonder if I had keys for Samantha and Mike's. I could only guess, at this time, however, I didn't know anything. It would continue this way and get more interesting.
The new keys bore the legend Jaguar. When I thought about security why would you write your address on the keys? Nothing else inside that vehicle enlightened me. It was like a car in a show room, it wasn't mine. The vehicle didn't arouse any emotions, I was out of luck. I was carefully pushing the car door closed when a voice behind me spoke out!
“Pete, what are you doing?” I didn't recognise the voice, and when I turned round I was in for a surprise. Standing before me displaying a lovely pair of legs under a miniskirt, and wearing a little T-shirt top was this slim girl with long dark hair.
She obviously knew me quite well and was expecting some kind of response. Judging by how the rest of the day had gone I remained glued to the spot silently looking her up and down. I was becoming expert at the standing and looking stupid thing. She had to say something eventually. I waited to see how I should respond to this lovely looking girl.
“Are you trying to sneak away?” she asked.
“Errrrr⦠no,” I said.
“Don't you want to see your Vic?” she asked, throwing arms open in a gesture that suggested she was my Vic.
I guessed she was called Vicky. I was a lucky man, but what was she doing in Samantha's drive? It was the eyes that gave the game away. All I could manage was a sharp intake of breath. She had stolen Samantha's eyes! Jesus Christ, she was Sam's daughter! Then I realised why I have such access to the family home, I was Vicky's bloody boyfriend! This day could only get better! What more shocking things could you find out in twenty-four hours? Sinking feelings had nothing on this. I was drowning. Would I turn into a pumpkin at midnight?
“Mum and dad are out⦠Fuck me hard before they get back,” she purred, using what I learned later was her kitten voice.
For somebody who has just discovered the joys of sex, things were picking up in a quite unexpected way. I really needed a shower, a cold shower. I realised I was getting to be quite a randy bastard. Even after losing my virginity only this very morning, I wanted her. She looked so good. I said nothing and just played along thinking I can't ask stupid questions like, “Do I spend the night with you,” or How long have we been going out?” I needed to see which way the wind blew, and today, in all things sexual, it wasn't just blowing, it was a full gale, a whirlwind of Sam and Vic! Do all these women have men's names?
To my surprise we were back in the same bed as this morning. Not Vicky's bed, but mum's bed. I didn't dare ask why we were in her mother's bed. I just rolled with it and took it in my fuddled stride. Then she told me I liked to do it in her mother's bedroom because, well⦠just because, that's what I'd told her. The only reason I could think of was devilment on my part, a little bit of danger, a little bit of getting it back on the old folks, a little bit of I don't know what. Something about this magnetic bedroom disturbed me.
We made love in a wild and crazy way all of which proved on a spiritual level to be a very disappointing experience. She was divine to look at, to touch, but was lacking in the pure passion of her mother. Sam had a style and her reactions to my caresses pleased me as much as they pleased her. Vicky was wild in bed; our passion was like a super physical contact sport, all commotion, no connection. Any spark beyond the purely physical act didn't exist. She was telling me how much she loved me, and I was thinking how much I'd enjoyed the bright morning making love, yes, making love to her mother.
Then it struck me like a thunderbolt! The reason we have sex in her mother's bed wasn't because of devilment, it was because it gave me a sense of lying with and pleasuring her mother. I was already imagining making love to her mother while fucking her!
Lying together in the bed we were discussing the day. Just things in general like the news, the latest fashions, music and so on. I also realised during our conversation I had very little in common with her. We were poles apart on everything, and we operated on a totally different wavelength. I might have started my relationship with her because of sexual beauty, but I definitely knew why I was with her now. I wanted her mother!
Thankfully time was passing, and soon the lovely Sam and her husband Mike would return. For some reason though Mike was much older than me we were mates. This friendship came with a price. I was shagging his wife! They would be back in a few minutes, so thankfully we had to get out of bed and drag combs through our tangled bed hair. I was a pretty jaded sod for somebody who'd been a virgin just a few short hours before.
The one thing I didn't want to look when Sam returned with Mike was shagged out. I didn't want Sam to suspect at any level that minutes before I'd been fucking her daughter. It was obvious she knew I was Vicky's lover, but I didn't want to shout the fact in her face. Today I didn't know what ground I was standing on, so I had to play it safe, though I don't think I'd been playing safe ever since I woke up bathed in hot bright sunlight.
In fact I didn't want reminding too much of the last hour. Beautiful as Vicky was I didn't want to sleep with her. It was her mother that intrigued me, she just set something off inside me, and not something you could put a finger on, a special connection. As I saw Samantha climbing out of the big Ford I knew our connection was on a different level and I also knew I was in more trouble than I imagined. How little I knew about myself and trouble? I hadn't even approached the outskirts of the City of Trouble yet!
I was uneasy meeting Mike and Samantha together, especially with Vicky clutching my arm. I knew the other me who arrived very drunk at this house last night was quite a different person to the boy who went to The Cauldron, because it was obvious this situation had been going on for some while. I'd been quite happy keeping whole thing bubbling along nicely, like some maniacal sex chef cooking the absolute perfect, if somewhat seedy,
soufflé
.
Talking of cooking, I was trying to make my escape through the back of the house by going out through the kitchen. My misfortune continued when the loving couple who'd been shopping came in through the back to access the utility room and the freezers. So there we were face-to-face, the last thing I wanted.
Sam didn't bat an eyelash. She just said hello like it was the most natural thing in the world and hadn't seen me for an age. In fact it was almost like this morning hadn't happened, until she rubbed past me to get to the refrigerator. It was just the smallest of touches on my bottom, very subtle, very quick and unseen. This morning had happened, it wasn't some strange figment in my broken head, and I wondered how many mornings a week I tested the luxury double bed?
Sam was in the process of telling Mike how brilliant I thought the new kitchen was. I was looking around the kitchen. It was very new but then the entire house looked new. She continued in this vein pointing to the new breakfast island.
“I particularly like that feature,” Sam said, subtly smiling at me,
I'd spent time in the kitchen with Samantha cooking the
soufflé
. It was starting to look that I spent time with Samantha in every dammed room in the house, and God knows where else. I really did have to make my excuses, get out of there and find out who I'd become, a worrying prospect.
The phrase worrying prospect really doesn't do it justice. By this time I knew I'd got involved with “wrong uns” as my brother called them, and cultivated involvement in a sex triangle which I hoped nobody else knew about. What else?
Quick excuse time was looming up again and I might have to demonstrate my skill behind the wheel if I couldn't think of an excuse why the car hadn't been picked up. I could tell them that the garage said there was no real problem. My first problem was I didn't even know where the key fitted!
I was just starting to make all the right noises, making the excuses, “I got to go here, I've got to do this, that, the other”, when I was taken by surprise.
“Do you want a drink, Peter?” Mike said. I was mid-flow when Mike winked at me.
“I know what you like,” he said, with a conspiratorial wink.
I was totally baffled as to what he meant. Was he talking about drink? Does he know what I've been doing with his daughter in the last hour? I doubt it. What was it then?
Mike appeared from somewhere in the utility room with two bottles of cold Carlsberg special brew. I looked at Mike thinking of excuses.
“No thanks. Had this stinker of a bloody hangover all day,” I said.
“It got you on the sun lounger last night. I thought you might be up for another session.” Mike said this quite cheerfully as if I was always up for a session.
“Sorry about last night. I overdid it a little bit,” I said.
“Don't you always? You're the party boy up for anything, we all know that,” he said. He winked at me once more.
“Not tonight, Mike, thanks, I've got stuff to do, places to go, people to see, and am so dammed tired,” I wasn't lying.
“You never stop moving about do you, but tired?” he said. Mike gave me a look. Perhaps he knew something, or from the way he was intimate with me perhaps I was involved in a sex square!
And with that spine chilling thought I didn't stop moving, made all the right excuses, or any old excuses for that matter, and escaped to the car. Vicky followed in close attendance.
“I thought were going out tonight, or was it just the sex?” Vicky enquired.