TERRY

March 17th 2004

The next morning I hit the motorway early. I had slept, eaten and I felt like shit but it was fresh shit, at least. I swallowed a handful of painkillers and drank a few litres of juice on the way north so that by the time I left the M6, I was fairly clear-headed. Any nearer to solving the mystery? No, of course not, but I was there and about to try a few potential avenues out.

I hit the CD player and an old favourite startled me into awareness. I always played it in happier times on my way home from work, romantic fool that I am. It was like a sharp pain in my vitals to hear the words now reinterpreted for a new reality.

What's worth nothing else but love?
Take a walk down any street now.
Every one of us, in our own little world
Looking for a heart with whom to beat now

What's worth nothing else but love?
Prepared to take the heat now
What's worth more than anything else at all
To keep you firmly on your feet now?

I have to find her. If I don't I have nothing. I cannot go back and be that man any more. The man who didn't know what food he ate or what clothes he wore, what country he was in or whose bed he was waking up in. That man who was so repressed that even when he cut loose and had a night with the boys never even really stopped playing the game. Who could drink, play cards, pick up a girl and still not have let a single natural emotion pass his face.

So fake cool image should be over
'Cause I long for a feeling of home.
Real life, depicted in song
A loving memory
After long, home is a place where I yearn to belong

Where the land meets the sea
She'll be smiling so sweetly now
I hope that she'll be here much longer than I will
My heart loves her with every beat now

So fake cool image should be over
'Cause I long for a feeling of home
Real life, depicted in song
A loving memory
After long, home is a place where I yearn to belong

There is only one thing worse than having nothing. It is losing everything. How much easier it is to be without love than to be remembering what companionship felt like. I drove steadily and resolutely north but my thoughts were far away.

It was late in the afternoon when I pulled up on the road outside the school where Uma had once taught. In her first diary this is where it had begun, so that is where I chose to start:

...It was one of those Thursday evenings. Know what I mean? Not quite the weekend and you are already on your knees. Kids at school were bastards all day. Someone threw a coke can out of my classroom window at the caretaker so he was on my case for not supervising the little wankers properly. Then my Head of Department gave me the entire Department Handbook to rewrite for next month. Plus I was on break duty and lunchtime duty, it was bloody pissing down and I had to break up a fight in the boys' toilets- have you any idea what they smell like? Even when the bell rang, it was still a bastard day - Committee C and little arse-wipe Banks was giving us all the shits again because we were late with our monthly reports. So, I eventually get out and my car won't start. Had to push it down the hill near school, with the help of young Kieran, the new PE student (nice arse, Kiers!) and then was frightened to stop in case it cut out again. As a result, I ran a red light and almost got creamed. Couldn't believe some bastard copper didn't catch that and book me. It was that sort of day - know what I mean?... (Just Visiting. A Bud Diary)

 

I read through the copy again and sat and thought. Just then a stream of kids walked past, misbehaving and laughing. One shouted something at my car and I heard a coin hop off the windscreen. I pressed the window button. "Hey, piss off, ya little tossers..."

Then an idea struck me. "Hey, come here a minute! I wanna ask you something. You know a teacher called..."

They approached suspiciously. I held out a ten pound note and rustled it in my fingers. "I want some information..."

"You a pervert? Wanna stick it up little boys?" One cheeky little lad shouted cockily.

I raised my eyebrows. "You are not as attractive as you seem to think, son. I'm after one of your teachers." I gave her name.

"Phwoarrr, she was a bit of alright, her. She used to wear short skirts and sit on the desk."

"Yeah right, mate. Does she still teach at your school?"

"No, she went away ages ago. To work in another country. Can't remember where. She your girlfriend?"

I handed over the money and started the engine. Driving along in the wake of catcalls and crude signs, I thought about it. Uma had left her job and gone overseas shortly after joining PW. She had said that it was like she felt that she could strike out and aim for something more than she had accepted in life now. She had taken courage from what happened and her new support group. That last evening before she met Bud, she had driven home from school in a hurry; her car had been playing up. What did she say again?

As a result, I ran a red light and almost got creamed.

There were two major junctions with traffic lights between the school and her home. I ran the first set of lights. Nothing happened. I picked up the scarf that I had carried with me, the one that smelt of her perfume and wound it absentmindedly about my hand as I approached the second. The lights changed and I ran them, scattering a group of school kids and grimacing at that. But immediately I realised something had altered. The light had changed. It was brighter and warmer.  There was blossom falling from a tree nearby, leaving a carpet of pale pink; the breeze was scattering the flowers across the street to drop like confetti on my windscreen. I would estimate it was May or early June, a warm late afternoon. I had done it. I was through but time had moved on from April to sometime in the following months.

Stopping at a newsagents', I bought a paper and saw the date: May 31st  2004. Our baby was almost due. Four weeks to go. Back in the car I drove slowly to Uma's house and rang the bell. No one answered. I sat in the car and waited. I wasn't going anywhere. If I had to sit here all week, I was prepared to do so.

It felt like a week. It was actually about an hour and fifteen minutes, during which I tried to read the newspaper and barely took a word in. My heart was beating so fast I felt light headed. I'm not a man given to nervousness and even when jumpy, say before an action, I am apparently calm, if given to a few nervous gestures. But this time I was like a boy on his first date, jumping every time a car passed by. So close to her, I could not bear the waiting or the fear that something may have happened, something irreversible and bad and I would be here to find that I would never have her again.

I choked those fears down. I pushed them deep within me but they kept lurking. She was dead in my portal; I had found that out when I looked into her past. What if....

That moment a small, rather decrepit old banger of a car pulled up sharply in front or me. It ran up the rather high pavement and then off- it was Uma without a doubt. She always had this peculiar way of parking on the hill where she lived- you knew she was home by the smell of burning rubber as the tyres spun on the kerb.

"Why must there always be a smell of burning rubber when you park a car?"

"Piss off, just 'cause I get it closer to the kerb than you- anyway I thought you loved the smell of burning rubber?"

Was there ever a woman with a faster tongue than hers? I smiled at the memory and then I saw her ease herself out of the little tin can in front of me. Every thought went out of my head as I saw her.

Uma was dressed in a pair of navy soft jersey pants with a white T-shirt hardly covering her enormous belly. I had last seen her with a neat little bump when she was twenty four weeks and now she looked as if she was about to burst. She looked thin and pale otherwise, her hair in an untidy plait. She reached into the boot with difficulty and hoisted out a few bags of shopping and then walked slowly towards her front door.

I could see the awkward way was she was holding herself, as if she was struggling to keep upright against a fierce wind. The weight she was carrying must have put a great pressure on her spine. The weight. My child. All alone she had coped with these last weeks, carrying within her my baby, struggling to survive without much money or any support to take her through such a trying and emotional time. How scared she must have been, how lonely- contemplating the future for just the two of them. The enormity of her plight washed over me. I remembered how much it had hit me; I had barely considered what her position had been like.

I stepped out of my car. The moment was here and I was suddenly struck dumb. How could I just walk up to her and say "Hi, honey, I'm home?"

I heard my voice and it sounded strange in my ears. Husky and low, cracked with emotion and little more than a whisper. But I saw her shoulders stiffen and her back tense. The bags fell from her grip and she turned. 

"Uma?"

UMA

Actually I hadn't been feeling well all day. There was nothing I could put my finger on. I had a dull ache in my back- no doubt the weight I was carrying- and I had felt jumpy and ill- at - ease all day, unable to sit down and rest as I know I should have been doing. I had gone shopping for some baby things and by the time I arrived home I was literally on my back.

How can I put into words what impact that the sound of his voice had on me? There is no language even of the most skilled poet to correctly encompass how my brain, my body, heart- my entire being- reacted when I turned to see him there. If you could take every wish, hope and dream you had ever felt, no matter how fleeting or unlikely, it could still never come within a million miles of the effect his presence had on me.

It was so great a shock that I didn't believe it. I simply thought that my tortured soul had conjured up a succubus of my febrile dreams to torment my waking. That is how hopeless I had been until he stood before me on the path and I looked up and saw his face for the first time in almost ten weeks. And then my world went black.

Black.

Then swirling mist - then obscured image. 

He was there looking down upon me. I struggled to speak, to utter some sound, to try and tell him all the things that had been locked up inside me for so long - but I was struck dumb. Nothing would come out.

He spoke to me but I could not hear him- just the familiar deep timbre of his voice even if it was making no sense. Nothing made sense. I felt nauseous and afraid; I wanted to wake from this cruel nightmare and yet I did not wish for him to leave me again. Even this facsimile of the man I loved was better recompense than loneliness and an empty bed.

The best thing that I was aware of was a strident ringing in my ears; I think it was obscuring all other sound. I wanted to block it out but it seemed to pierce everything and make my teeth chatter with the discord. My child reacted to the din and kicked hard - I felt the bruising impact on my ribs and gasped for breath.

Silence. Suddenly silence. Blessed silence -and then the words that were like a balm to my ears for I knew the moment they were uttered that this was no fantasy who spoke them. This was a real man. My man. Terry.

"Think I broke the fucking alarm. Ripped the fucker right off its moorings..."

And I heard my voice say... "Oh Terry..."

I had not needed any other further proof of life- but I received it anyway. Terry held me in his arms and we just embraced. He crushed me against him and I hid in the soft sweet haven of his shoulder, clinging to him for fear that he might be torn from me again.

"I didn't think I would ever find you," he muttered.

"I searched and searched but I couldn't get back..." I gasped.

"I have you now...you are safe with me. I will never let you go again..."

I don't know how long we held each other, whispered strands of half understood explanation, lips pressed against flesh, fingers interwoven. The story of our separation coming out in fits and starts, neither of us making clarity our main concern. I cried openly, tears of relief, of fear, of loneliness that had been held inside for weeks and weeks. I felt the wetness on his cheeks but he did not weep, more than a stray tear or two; he seemed too angry yet to let it all from him.

His hand crept over my now large and swollen belly that rippled like some subterranean dragon with the constrained movements of our child. He pulled at my clothing, laying the swell bare and gazing at my nakedness. "I've missed months- how far are you?"

"Thirty six weeks."

"Bloody hell...it's due anytime! What the fuck are we going to do?"

I held his face in my hands. "What can we do? Can we go back? I don't think so. Can we stay here? I'm not sure. But one thing I know...This baby will be born somewhere, sometime- and soon."

He stood up and paced the length of the room, running his hand through his hair as he worked it out. I tried to say something but he held up his hand. "Give me a minute. I need to think." I watched him. He looked rough. His eyes were hollow, dark rings circled his eyes, he had shaved but carelessly- his face was nicked here and there. I noticed his hair needed cutting and his clothes were slightly dishevelled. Little signs, maybe only noticeable to those who knew him well, but Terry was not himself. He was a man on the edge. I actually never remember a time when he was not ahead of the game but now he seemed to be making it up as he went along.

He stopped and knelt down before me, his hand resting on my belly, feeling the pulse and the movement. "We can't stay here. There's another Terry Thorne in your reality. I'm not sure how long I can exist here. You can't come to my portal- there's a reason for that but I don't want to share it with you just now... I think we have to go back. To the Temple. Heather was right. We have to throw ourselves on the mercy of this entity, this power, which seems to be toying with us. I don't know why but I have this notion that she let me reach you today. How did I cross into your portal without you? It's not possible..."

His words made a kind of crazy, imprecise sense. But it wasn't just that. I couldn't make the decision myself. Somehow I wasn't capable of assertive action anymore. Something was happening to me. I wanted Terry to do everything; it was as if I was sinking into myself. My body felt uncomfortable and my mind incapable of rational thought. "Just take care of me, Terry. I'll do whatever you say..."

He heard my plea. It fired him up. Next moment he was in action mode. "Good night's sleep- we're both exhausted. Pack a few things and we get off. Soon as we're back through the portal, I'll call Phil, we hit Luton and get that fucker off the ground- straight to California before anyone knows what's up. You OK with that? Tink?"

I nodded. "You sure? Are you well enough? You look a bit pale..."

I shook my head. "Just shock. And I'm hungry. I need to eat...let's get something..."

We made sandwiches although I didn't actually eat much in the end; I was too emotionally drained. Terry ran a bath, undressed me like a little child, and helped me in, crouching by me, just watching. I felt suddenly shy being naked before him, my swollen, ungainly body so different from how I used to be. He laughed at my embarrassment, stroking my belly gently. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. But you have never looked more lovely to me than you do today. You are everything a woman should be- all women in my eyes."

God, I love that man.

He dressed me in cool cotton pyjamas, put me to bed and then took a shower himself. I was dozing when he slipped in by me. The light was switched off and we lay side-by-side in the dark. Sleeping is pretty uncomfortable at the moment. There is no position of relief. I usually half lie/ half sit in a mess of pillows but my rest is disturbed and my sleep fitful. Terry tried to make me comfortable and then curled up by me. We talked softly until we both must have slipped into sleep.

I was awake sometime in the middle of the night; I felt hot and my bladder was full. Terry was lying with his face pressed against my stomach, snoring lightly. I didn't want to wake him, aware of how much he needed a sound night's sleep so I eased myself away and slipped off the bed into the bathroom. My back was really throbbing again. For an hour or so I walked about the dark silent house until it seemed to ease off and then I joined him back in bed. He was on his back, now spread out, deeply asleep, relaxed. I lay on my side and watched him, saw the amorphous shape of my body as it fell between us against the mattress, almost tracing the outline of our unborn child. I didn't dare think of the future. Let me just have then here tonight, safe in my arms. I am grateful for small mercies.

TERRY

We both woke early with the unfamiliar presence of another body. Instinct made me reach for her- woman, soft and morning sweet. Unconsciously I eased my throbbing hardon against her slender leg and stroked my hands down the swell of her breasts and belly to ruck up the fine cotton of her nightwear. I rolled over as if to mount her and then memory juddered me back as the bulk of her stomach prevented me from sliding in as I would have normally done. Uma was sleepy and seemed barely aware of my feeble attempt, merely smiling and yawning, brushing my hair back and rubbing her cheek against my bristles.

"Mmmmm...morning Terry...my favourite..." She felt my arousal pressing against her lower belly. "Mmmmm...morning Terry...my other favourite," she giggled. Clasping me and jerking softly, she whispered, "Let me?"

I shook my head and covered her hand to move it away but couldn't actually do it. I didn't have the ability to deny myself her touch.

"Please, Uma...let go...it's not right...not when you're like this..." I protested vainly.

"Not right? Who makes the fucking rules? I am so fucking sick of rules! We are the pair that breaks them - remember? That is why we are here! If I want to give you pleasure, I will give it to you!"

I rolled onto my back opening myself to her. It was up to me to look after both of them from now on but I needed taking care of, too. She knew that, like she always knows what I need instinctively. I can't explain how a man feels when the woman he loves touches him; it's just out of any zone or point of reference he has.

Sometimes women jerk you off and after a while it irritates, no matter how much you wish to come. Guess it's the same for women. We move their hands as they move ours or cover their grip and take over, knowing our own body better... selfish in our need to come. Does Uma betray her past despite herself? She masturbates a man as if she can feel what she is doing to him on her own flesh; I'm helpless in her hands or mouth, barely able to stop myself from coming straight off. Or am I being unfair to her? Is it simply because she loves me and is so in tune with my body? I don't know nor do I care. One look at her face and I know she's right there with me.

I came, heard myself whimper, a boyish sob that I didn't know I was capable of making. She smiled in delight, a sweet gentle smile, no more the temptress but maternal now and loving me as if I were her little boy. She will soon touch our son with those hands and watch over him with those eyes. He is a lucky little tyke.

Reality bit even then in those quiet after moments as we lay wrapped together. "We have to get moving. I don't know how long we dare linger..."

"I know...I'll get up, shower and pack...."

"Not much, love, we have all we need in London..."

"Do we? I thought it had disappeared?" She was right. I had forgotten the bleak emptiness of our home.

"Right...we can buy what we need as and when we need it. Possessions don't mean a fuck, Uma. We both know that now, hey?"

She looked at me and suddenly gave me one of her brilliant smiles, full of joy and spontaneous pleasure. It lit up the pale wanness of her face and restored the sparkling woman that she is.

"Give me half an hour and I'm all yours. Bring your gold card. I haven't bought a decent pair of shoes in weeks..."