Part Two

 

UMA

This is what actually happened. I eventually wrote it down as if setting it on a page would create some sense of it. Maybe one day reading it over will.

 

MARCH 5th 2004

Terry's car had just driven down the drive and out into the street. I was trying to be brave and not let him see how much I didn't want him to be away at the moment. He promised that this would be the last trip before the baby was born although there had been requests for him on the board. He had sidestepped some, claiming pressure of work but it was getting impossible. I knew we had to make an announcement. Perhaps just a simple special message on the Game Board? And exactly what would I say? 

 

Oh my God! I just can't. I just can't.

The IM buzzed and I sauntered over to check who it was- it was still the middle of the night in the US. Occasionally my Mum has a go or had Cort been delayed? It wasn't Mum. Or Cort.

It was weird. The addy was someone I didn't recognize. DEA. Hmmmm.

 

But that was it. She had gone. Was it a joke? Who on earth would regard that as funny? She knew about the child. She ...a cold hand gripped my heart. Was this how it ended? I had to treat it seriously- if it were true, then I could not waste the final moments. If it were a cruel joke then the perpetrator could rot in hell later.

My brain raved; I couldn't take in the words. Terry...Oh God, Terry... I picked up the phone and tried to call, but his cell was off. I have to talk to him. He will know what to do...he will be able to sort this out- he will kill anyone who dares to hurt me like this... He will protect us. I fingered the cross and chain around my neck, the talisman he gave me. I prayed. Surely God was more powerful than any entity out there? Terry was in the air and try as I could, I couldn't get a message through to the onboard system. I remember him saying they had had some problems with the Skyphone. I couldn't believe it.

Then I began to think. God the others....the others... Hando, Tina....

I dialed his number, willing him to be there. It was night - he had to be there. The phone rang for a long time and I watched the minutes count down...please answer, please answer...

 

 

I had to hang up. I couldn't speak to him any more. Time was running out for me. I simply had to get hold of Terry...but I could not raise the plane.

In desperation, I called Heather. It was late night there and I think I must have disturbed her sleep as well. She was nervous when she answered the phone.

 

 

I thought I fainted. 

A swirling sensation flooded through me as I struggled to hold on, my fingernails jammed into my palms. There was a rushing noise in my head and blood pounded in my ears as loud as a drum beat. Then my vision cleared and I blinked. I was standing by the window in my old home in Manchester, staring out onto my garden in its spring profusion.

The eye is an organ that moves faster than the brain- what one sees cannot always be interpreted. I saw the familiar scene but did not understand. Moments passed, moments of shuddering incomprehension that slowly gave way to the dawning of realization. I was where it had started, in a house we had sold months ago; it was late spring and I was alone. Not only alone in the house but alone in the world. I could sense the crushing emptiness, as one would feel the loss of a limb once severed. He was still part of me but he was gone.

Instinctively I placed my hands on my belly. My baby was there. My hand flew to the cross and chain but my neck was bare. She had taken it from me. She had disdained even the power of the One God. What was this terrible deity?

An idea struck me. Time is a fluid concept, even a hopeless physicist like me knows that much. What was the date? That morning I had read the newspaper for March 5th. I fumbled with the TV remote and snapped it on, pressed for text and there it was:  April 11th 2004. I was no longer where I had started the day.

When an incontrovertible fact is revealed, we always do a strange thing. We test it out, even though we know at once that only one explanation can be presented and we must accept the truth. I went through a series of increasingly pointless gestures. Rang the London number. Unobtainable. This number is out of service. Logged on the computer. Found Izzy's site. Tried to log on. Uma252. No problem. But I just got the general board. Nothing else. I was not allowed in the private drawers any more. Frantic phone call to Darcy.

 

 

She did not know who I was. I hung up.

Next I searched the wardrobes and cupboards. Not a single, solitary piece of evidence to suggest Terry had even been here or that I even knew him. I looked out photographs that I had from Christmas and he wasn't there. Nor was Arthur. The books he had left here, his clothes, bits and pieces we had bought for the house...nothing. The only item that was connected to him was a DVD of Proof of Life in my film library. A celluloid image of the father of my baby. That is all he was in my world. A character from a film whom I fancied and had perved over. The utter bleakness of that thought almost wrenched the heart from my body.

I sat down in my kitchen and simply stared into space. It was clearly shock; the pain did not really kick in until later. Perhaps I was dreaming. I had had lots of vivid dreams lately. I pinched myself hard but still did not wake up. I am not sure how long I sat there in some trance-like state, shocked into catatonia. I think it was several hours for, by the time I began to come round it was well into the afternoon. I'm not sure what I had been thinking about specifically except that my mind had run a moving reel of image and sound; I was beginning to wonder if I was sane.

Memories. Knowledge. Events. Things so vivid and real to me that I could not accept that they were fictitious. But yet the enormity of what I was describing astounded me. I had spent the past eighteen months in a surreal existence where I freely met and romanced the objects of my affection. I had fallen in love and conceived a child with one of them, I had lived an opulent life of ease as the mistress of a wealthy and successful man, I had been loved by a Roman general, a World War II pilot, a right wing skinhead, a 50s American cop, a Nobel prizewinner, a gunslinger, a naval captain from the Napoleonic wars- amongst others...sounds likely when you put it like that, doesn't it? A suitable case for treatment if ever I saw one.

 

I had woken up this morning with Terry. I can remember it as if it had happened just a matter of a few hours ago - which of course it had. The alarm had gone off early and I remember him groaning and rolling over with a string of profanities. I had been wakeful, my bladder full again and the baby deciding to make an even earlier start to the day than usual. So, after dragging myself to the bathroom and back to bed, I started to try and wake him up. He was in one of his comatose states, a sure sign that he didn't really want to leave. Usually he is very disciplined about such things.

I had shaken him and he had merely grunted, then I had blown on his face- he had swiped me away with his hand- luckily, I was ready to duck. Finally I had gone for the foolproof method. Burrowing down under the sheets, I found his warm genitals, already half aroused, as befits a virile man in the morning. It didn't take much to bring him to his full glory; he woke with a gasp.

"Ungghh." He is always very articulate at that time of the day. But he wakes quickly and, as you would expect of a highly trained survival expert, he was on to it straight away. A few moments later, he was fully awake, sitting up against the headboard and I was cradled on his lap. He kissed me with as much enthusiasm as he had shortly been hugging sleep, while he eased his cock gently into me. I lowered myself down gingerly while he took the strain on his strong forearms.

We have nearly ransacked the Kama Sutra lately for positions that would be possible to accommodate my new bulk. I want to feel all of him and even though he is a big man several more conventional positions are too shallow if faced with the obstacle of my belly in the way. He is also worried about damage to me or the child and will not use any position where his weight might fall upon me. The most effective so far is sitting on his lap with my back against his chest- he can reach all my important bits and I can just about reach his - but I wish I could see his face; that is always my favourite sight when he is in the throes of passion.

 

So there we were earlier today, glorious early morning sex in each other's arms. Terry was off to a remote and dangerous place, I was a little scared, he was apprehensive about leaving me and we had poured our fears into the love we had made. When we came, we sank back against the pillows and had lain wrapped up, talking and reassuring, teasing and kissing. This was just a few hours ago, his semen was still pooled inside me; I could feel its sticky trace and the slight soreness of his earlier presence.

Or was I even imagining that?

I heard a key turn in the door and jumped. A voice shouted "Coo-ee? You there, love?"

Mum. I ran to her and she could tell something was up as I flung myself into her arms. She cuddled and patted me "There, there, now, shush, love..." while I cried my heart out. It was a long time before I could speak coherently. Somehow the appearance of my Mum, my much maligned Mum, released a tidal wave of emotion and despair. She, of course, completely misunderstood the reasons for my weeping. But her voice of comfort had its uses; she in effect explained what the hell I had been doing the past year and a half.

From her gentle sympathy and nurturing encouragement, I discovered that my life had ticked on much the same. Still working at the same job, still living the same life until I had gone on holiday the previous October half term. Just a week in the sun - Tenerife with a girlfriend. I had come back with an unexpected souvenir, courtesy of a drunken night with a man whose name I never knew. She thought I was crying at the mess I had made of my life.

She made something for me to eat, drew me a bath and encouraged me to take a rest. I slept round the clock and woke the next morning, alone, heavy-hearted and low. It was a sunny morning but it made no difference to me. If this was the rest of my life - you could bloody keep it.

 

 

It was eight thirty in the morning and I was sitting down to a solitary bowl of cereals. The doorbell ran. On the step stood a child in school uniform; I looked bewildered. "What do you want?" I snapped.

The child looked a little unsure and stumbled over his words. "My lift, Miss. Are you going to school today?"

My brain rang with the implications. It was April 2004. I was still a schoolteacher. Life had gone on. Or had it? Was I hallucinating? Did I have a touch of the old paranoid schizophrenia? Or perhaps the other reality was the hallucination? Were my PW buddies my imaginary friends? Was I in fact certifiably insane?

What did I do? I slung on a coat, picked up my briefcase, found my car keys and left. As if in a dream I went through the motions that were so familiar I could still have done them in my sleep. I drove to work, rushed in on the last minute. The day had begun.

It was a nightmare. I could have taught the classes with my eyes closed but I had grown spoilt and lazy. These kids were hard work. I was six months' pregnant and they had me on the run. By lunchtime I was on my uppers, ready to burst into tears and wishing Terry could walk in, pick up one of the little bleeders who was running rings around me, hold him against the wall at his level and do his worst. But it wasn't going to happen. I was alone and beginning to think I was going mad.

The staff room at lunch was an experience. All my old friends and colleagues chattered away as if I had been there yesterday. Which I had probably had been. I was pregnant though and wondered what explanation I had given them for that. I found a quiet moment with my best friend Anne Marie and asked her a few leading questions.

"Anne, you know my baby's father?"

"Has he been in touch? How did he find you?" Her reply puzzled me.

"Look, Anne, did I tell you everything about him?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I think so. You met him on holiday last October and had a one night stand. You were too drunk to use anything. Is there more?"

I shook my head. Perhaps that was the truth. Perhaps I was just a girl in trouble with a crush on Russell Crowe and somehow I had projected a whole other reality to hide even from myself the mess I had found myself in. Come to think of it, what better man for a girl to fantasise about than Terry Thorne, the ultimate Action Man, tough and strong, noble and self-sacrificing, loving and vulnerable. Just the kind of man you never meet in real life. Just the kind of man who would never leave a woman pregnant and in the lurch. As the day wore on I simply became more and more disconnected and feared I might have been losing my mind.

Back home I searched for something to prove to me that I had not imagined it all- but nothing. The tangible clues that I expected was missing- the ring he had given me that I never remove- gone. The locket I always wore round my neck had vanished. Not a sign, not a single speck of evidence remained of my former life- just memories so strong that I could taste them. Can your brain do that? Can it create images so strong to convince you that real is unreal and that delusion is true?

Days passed. I did normal things. I saw my doctor who had all my records. I went to work. I did the marketing. It was like wading through treacle but I managed somehow to hold my head above water. Somehow.

It was almost the Easter break. My headmaster asked to see me. I knew as soon as I saw his face that something was badly wrong. "I am afraid that we will be terminating your contract when your maternity leave finishes. I am so sorry, but the governors have complained that your lifestyle is at odds with the mission statement of our school. You have broken the terms of your Catholic Teachers' Contract."

I argued in vain but I knew it was hopeless. It wasn't really his fault anyway. That was the position and both of us knew it. I was a bad example to the pupils, most of whom, of course, lived in much more unconventional family units than I - but what the hell? Caesar's wife must be above suspicion.

Where did that leave me? Broke frankly. I couldn't afford to pay my mortgage without my job. I would lose my home. Pregnant, homeless, destitute, broke and on my own. No, not on my own. I have my baby. You gave me that and this is the price we have to pay. You always said in your melancholy moments: 'The piper never plays for free.' Perhaps it is I who am the lucky one. You are the one who is alone. Am I hallucinating again? Talking to a man who never existed? My mind ached with confusion.

Sort of irony though, isn't there? I had had it all. The man, the life, the friends, the lovers. The woman who had it all. All the time I had known that it wasn't my fate. Hadn't I tried to warn him that my life didn't work like that? Hadn't I always felt that others deserved him more than I did? Hadn't I been convinced that the bad girls never really got the good guys? Now I have proved myself right all along. Some Pyrrhic victory that was.

But what if I am mad? Or at least unbalanced. Delusional. Temporarily disturbed. What if the truth is that I fucked up royally this time and my arrogance will not allow me to admit it? Maybe Terry Thorne was only a figment of my imagination, Maximus a dream born of my obsession for the past, Jack a fantasy from the books I had read, Bud a craving that I wanted to fulfil, Hando the wild spectre of my sexuality, Lachlan a man from a world now passed who offered a more secure certainty about love and life, Cort the heroic avenger who would seek to save me? What if I did just pick some bastard up on a week in Tenerife and get myself up the duff and am merely another single mother with a grudge against reality?

But either way- it didn't solve my problem. I would have to sell my house, rent a little place or even move in with my parents until I found my feet.  What else could I do to make money? The only other skill I had apart from teaching was selling my body and I doubt there were many who would want it now. Even later, after the baby is born, I knew nothing would ever bring me to losing my self respect again in the pursuit of an easier life. Terry's child would not grow up with a whore for a mother. But it wasn't just that. I seriously doubted if I could ever bring myself to have sex with anyone again. Who ever would have believed that the Man-eater was going to take the veil? Just think about it- what man in the world could measure up to what I had known? If I could never have the Brothers again, I didn't want any man. Somehow it didn't even hurt anymore. If Terry wasn't mine then nothing could damage me more than that. I was numb to any other pain that my life might have in store for me.

More days passed. They turned into more weeks. I seemed to exist in some half-life that was fuelled by my intense bond with my growing child but the rest of me was sinking further and further into some sort of trough of despond. It didn't seem to matter how many times I told myself that I was deluding myself. It didn't mean my love for a movie character was any less strong or that my thoughts were any less filled with his image. At nights I dreamed of him and woke disoriented and full of despair. By day hardly a few moments passed when I did not think about him: something he had once said would float into my mind, a place we had been, an experience we had shared- or just the smile he would give me when he looked up from working on something and caught my eye. How can you imagine all that so vividly?

One night I was fast asleep and I swear I heard his voice. He was calling my name as if he was in the other room, sounding a little bit exasperated with me. The voice he puts on when I have forgotten to do something or moved something of his or at least he thinks I have. I answered instinctively and then found myself sitting up in bed in the dark in a silent house. Was he haunting me now as well? I curled up with my hand on my baby. Felt the reassurance of a healthy kick and knew that at least one thing in my life was real. I had this little life - but what kind of mother would a nut job like me make? I hardly dared imagine whether I would be able to cope. It was just another thing to worry about.

I was so lonely. My parents were always asking me to stay or dropping in- so were family and friends- but my state of mind was so dislocated that I found it hard to follow what they were saying. Many times they were talking about things that had happened while I had been 'away' in my own head and I simply could not say "What the hell are you all talking about?" without appearing to be even stranger than they thought I was already. A couple of times I went to the cinema or out to dinner with colleagues or friends but I mostly pleaded exhaustion and the need to get an early night and they seemed satisfied with that- I couldn't have been much fun, locked up in my own head most of the time.

I knew I needed fresh air and exercise and often swam at my health club or walked in the park. One Saturday afternoon in May, I was wandering through the Spring Gardens, lost in the usual world of my own when I settled down on a bench near the ornamental pond and watched a few children feeding breadcrumbs to the fish with their parents. A familiar voice broke into my reverie.

"Uma...is that you?"

I jumped and shot a look in the direction of the speaker.

"Oh my God! Bryan?"

It was Bryan McNally. I hadn't seen him for....years. Well, for a couple of years anyway. I'd been sort of engaged to him for a while; we had drifted along and I had kept finding excuses not to make it official. Finally he had been posted to Brussels to an EEC liaison department and had given me an ultimatum. "Let's get married and start a new life in Europe?"

I had run home and had sat up all night before I knew that I couldn't. I liked him. A lot.  He was my good friend. A fine man. We enjoyed a healthy sex life. But he didn't make my heart sing and I just wouldn't compromise any more. I was looking for someone who would sweep me off my feet and so I decided that even if I never found it, I wasn't going to make do ever again. Once, a long time ago, I had tried to put my selfish need for comfort and an easy life before love and I had lost everything that I had held dear. I was never making that mistake again. So, Bryan went alone. I was sad to hurt him- he had loved me, I know he had, but I knew in the end he was far better off without a woman like me.

"Bryan! My God- what are you doing here?" It was a stupid question. He was jogging across the park.

"Trying to work off all those free lunches. I'm home to see my Mum, she's been in hospital. I was thinking of looking you up but I thought that maybe you would be with someone else..." Then he seemed to double take- he had caught my bulge. I saw him colour slightly and then swallow. "...looks like you have. When's it due?"

"July."

"When did you get married? Lucky bloke." He smiled a little petulantly, looked away.

I looked down at my feet. "I'm not married. No bloke."

At that, Bryan came and sat down by me; I felt foolish, well rewarded for my dumping of him. I had let him go, hoping for something better and here I was now on my uppers. Other men would have found that rather satisfying after how I had treated him. But not Bryan- he was too much of a gentle soul for that sort of brinkmanship.

"God, Uma...how did you let that happen?" He had on this wry expression, like I was a naughty child whom he adored.

I shrugged. "Much the same as everyone else does, I suppose." I gave a little rueful laugh. He put an arm round my shoulder.

"You alright? You look so pale..." I didn't mean to play on his heart strings, but it just felt good to have a man's protection. if even for a little while. I just broke down and cried and he held me. He didn't ask for explanations or try to tell me that it would be alright. I was grateful for that because there was simply very little that I could actually explain.

Eventually I dried up and he asked me if he could walk me home. At the door he said: "Fancy doing something tonight? Meal or something?" For a moment I paused but, to my shame, not for long.

"That would be really nice, Bryan..."

"Pick you up at eight then?"

For the first time in a long time, I actually took some care with how I looked: makeup, hair, a simple ethnic smock over wide jersey pants and I felt like a woman. He was on the dot, picking me up in a shiny new BMW 7 series and taking me to one of the new 'in' restaurants in the City, opened by a famous TV chef who hailed from the north. So I enjoyed being wined and dined- even if I had to refuse the marvellous cellar in my condition. So I loved being ferried along by a successful man in a high end company car? So I felt comfortable back in society instead of feeling like I was Cinderella in the scullery? I'm only human, and I felt like I was learning a great big lesson. I had once had the affection of this nice man and I had thrown it away for a dream. All I had now was a child with no father and a fantasy life. Maybe compromise is the mature way to live your life?

Bryan and I talked and laughed and it felt good; he broke through my melancholy more than anyone I had met since my 'reawakening'. He was good for me. I was wiser now. But I couldn't actually fool myself that even Bryan would be desperate enough to start up again with an old girlfriend carrying a child fathered by a drunken man whose name she didn't even know, even less whose face she could remember.

But I was wrong again. Bryan rang me the next day and we went out to the cinema. The following day, he took me to an opera. Then supper. The following night he just called round with some flowers and we stayed in and watched TV. It was cosy. I was happy. Mum said- 'snap him up'. I couldn't think clearly, but I didn't want to be alone any more.

A week after he had met me, he took me out to dinner again and over coffee, he made his pitch.

"Uma...I'm leaving on Monday. I'm thirty eight and I don't have time to waste. I love you, Uma, I always did. I don't care if this is someone else's child. He doesn't want it or you. I do. Come back with me. No one there will know I'm not the father. I like kids. You and I, we get on well and we nearly made it once before. What have you got to lose?"

I sat at that table and held his hand. A million thoughts ran through my mind. There was no Terry Thorne. I had nothing to look forward to now but single parenthood. Bryan was a good man and we got on. My child deserved a better deal in life and it was up to me to secure that for him. Maybe I would learn to love him as he loved me? It was a better option than I had now.

"I don't know what to say, Bryan. I can't believe any man would willingly take this on. Let me have time to think- it's such a big step. So unexpected. Can you give me until tomorrow?"

He smiled shyly. "I've waited all my life as it is. One more day isn't going to make much difference, love."

I kissed him that night but I didn't ask him in. I needed to think. 

Lying in bed with the curtains open, I stared at the moon. Could I do this? Should I do this? Marry him and be an expatriate wife and mother? At some point, I must have fallen asleep, although what followed was vivid enough to make me think I was still awake. I was in a kitchen; I was with Terry. I was sad- he was leaving:

 

 

I sat up suddenly wide awake. I had been there. I had killed Raul. Terry had said that to me. It was like a warning bell in my head. I couldn't let it go. I might be mad but IF even my hallucinations were stronger images than my real existence, then I couldn't simply ignore my instinct. I couldn't marry a man that I didn't love, even if it were for the best of reasons. I would never take advantage of a man again as long as I lived. My child and I would manage somehow.

 

Just remember, Terry. Whatever happens. Remember how I felt.

 

I gave Bryan his answer the next day and hated myself for hurting him again. But I felt strangely calm once he had gone, sure in my decision. It seemed to me to be the most assertive action I had taken in a long, long time. Before that I had merely let everything happen around me. I had accepted everything on face value. But say that I was wrong. What if it had all happened? What if Dea and that incredible story were all true? I was scared to believe but I was also afraid not to take a leap of faith. Somewhere I had this sense that there was something missing that I hadn't seen. But try as I might, I couldn't work it out.

The first twinge of doubt came that afternoon. I took a shower and was drying myself in the bedroom when I dropped my towel and bent down to pick it up. It isn't easy for me to bend at the moment, as you can imagine, and I steadied myself with a hand on the dressing table. Something made me look in the mirror and I had a rather ungainly image reflected in the long mirror on the wall of my own bum. And then I saw it. My tattoo. For a moment I held my breath. Swivelling round with a hand mirror, I struggled to get a closer look but there was no mistaking it. The symbol 'Thorn'.

Was that proof of...knowing Terry? If I was a wacko perhaps I had simply had it done as part of the delusion at some point. It was quite possible if I couldn't even remember conceiving my child...except I did remember. I hadn't been drunk. I had been in a speeding panoramic elevator. My brain was hurting. I wrapped up in a bath robe and lay down on the bed. My pregnant body soon sent me to sleep- which was probably the best thing for me.

That evening I was looking for a pen in my handbag to mark some essays that needed doing for the next day and I noticed something. There was a tear in the lining. I rattled the bag and realised that something had slipped underneath to the bottom. Fiddling around, my fingers snagged the edge of a small velvet bag and I eased it out. It was a little drawstring pouch inscribed with the legend 'Tiffany and Co' in gold lettering. Tiffany's? My heart missed a beat. I opened it and poured out the contents onto my trembling palm. I had found it! Proof. Real proof. Incontrovertible proof! I wasn't mad. It had all been true. Lying on my hand was a golden cross and chain with a little card accompanying it, handwritten in an elegant flowing hand:

Jack. New York. Tiffany's. If that much was true - then it was all true. I danced around the room as much as my ungainly bulk permitted. I was not mad. I was just unlucky. But was that in reality any better? With a sickening thud, I realised that this meant absolutely nothing in the long run. I was still alone and still in exactly the same predicament as when I started.

No, I wasn't. Let me think. Something called Dea apparently ejected me from the Game because I broke a golden rule. But PW was only a portal away. All I had to do was find my way back to Terry, who was no doubt desperately trying to find his way back to me. He had to be. He would never let me down. Ever.

I sat up late and made my plans. First thing in the morning I would go to school and give in my notice. And make my bid. I hadn't lived with a negotiator for more than a year without learning something. I would make an offer and if it failed I might just go loud. And then I was going on an adventure of my own. Through the portal.

Next morning at nine o'clock saw me in the school office suite. "I'd like to see the headmaster."

"He's with the Deputy."

Good - they can both hear this," I burst through the door. The two men jumped to their feet. "Right, lads...this is the deal. I want to finish early. I know I have a few weeks to go but I've had it with this dump. I leave today on full pay."

"I beg your pardon?" The headmaster asked in surprise at my abrupt entry.

"You heard me. Say yes or I go to the local press. Wait until this goes national. 'Young pregnant teacher hounded from her job by religious bigotry.' You won't get out of the car park, mate."

I love you, Terry Thorne. They acquiesced. I might have lost my job but I walked on my terms. It felt better already.

Midmorning and I was on the train to London. What did I plan to do? Read it and weep, oh spirit of the portals! I was going to break a few laws of time.

It was late afternoon when I dragged myself and a small rucksack off the train. I had nowhere to stay but found a budget hotel in a pretty run down area of Euston that would have to do. It was a long way away from 5 star luxury with Terry but I haven't always had it easy. I can rough it when I have to.

I was tired and knew I had to pace myself, even if my inclination was to charge ahead and get on with Operation Gate Buster. But I was aware of my limitations these days and after all I had a greater priority even than finding my way back to Terry- the baby. That precious little gem was more important than anything else in any dimension of reality.

Next morning, I began my quest. I started with the simplest thing. I went home. The Bishops Avenue, St John's Wood. I found my house. Just as it had been when I first saw it almost nine months ago. A crumbling manse in dire need of one crazy woman and a far too indulgent man to buy it and pour oceans of money into making it live again. But no Terry.

I wasn't daunted, having pretty much expected that. It was now time for plan B. From there I hopped a tube to Docklands and his old apartment. I had been there once when I'd been through the portal with him. You never know.

It looked exactly the same. I rode the lift to the fourth floor and walked down the sombre corridor, wood floors and whitewashed stone walls, to 4A. Just before I got there, I heard voices and then someone came flying out of the door, banging it behind her.

"I don't bloody care if the entire Western world has been kidnapped by fucking aliens. If you loved me, you'd stay here!" And an immaculately-dressed petite blonde charged past me still muttering, "You complete and utter shit, you absolute selfish bastard...you are such a wanker...I have been wasting my life on you for too long...." She stopped and shouted back. "...You're not the only bloke in the world with a big dick, you know!" She turned on her heel and swept off towards the elevator. I simply stood and stared at her retreating back.

The door opened again and...I suppose Terry ran into me. He simply didn't notice me there because he was so busy shouting, "For Christ's sake, Jemima, can't you listen to reason?" that he failed to see the pregnant woman in his way. Actually he didn't bump into me- I had already crumpled. You know me - in moments of extreme stress, I faint. So I fainted.

I opened my eyes to find myself lying on a white couch in Terry's rather sterile apartment. He was kneeling by me, holding a glass of water and watching me. There was no sign of recognition in his eyes. I was a complete stranger to him.

"You OK, love? You took a bit of a tumble there."

It was Terry. My Terry. A little heavier, his hair shorter, smartly suited up, freshly shaved - still my Terry. But he didn't know me.

"Um...yes..." I could barely utter a coherent word. "I'm sorry, I sometimes do that..."

He smiled reassuringly but it was a distant professional manner; he had never looked at me like that before. "Are you sure you're alright? If you need a doctor..?"

I shook my head. "No, honestly, I'm alright."

"Cup of tea then? Good for shock- plenty of sugar," he smiled warmly. My sweet Terry.

"I'm probably disturbing you. Weren't you about to go out...?"

Terry sat back on his heels and pulled at his eyebrow. I wanted to say, 'I know every inch of your body. I love every move that you make. I adore each mannerism'. But I just sat there, watched him and said nothing. "I do have to leave soon but there's always time for a cup of tea..."

He stood up and went into the kitchen, busied himself with making tea while I lay back  on the plush upholstery and wondered what the hell I was doing there. He came back in with two mugs and we drank the tea primly.

"Is there someone I could call? Your...er..." he looked at my left hand... "...partner?"

"I don't have one." I spoke the words softly, trying to control my voice and its involuntary shaking.

Terry frowned slightly; he was irritated at some unknown man who had taken his fun and left. So typical of him. I loved him a little bit more then if it were possible.

He suddenly seemed to think of something. "What were you doing here, anyway? Were you looking for someone?"

I choked on my tea. "Err...it's a bit complicated. I think I must have been in the wrong block."

Terry nodded. "Look, I hate to hurry you but if you're sure you're fine...I have a plane to catch. Can I give you a lift anywhere?"

I accepted if only to keep him nearer for a little while longer. He drove me into the city and dropped me near a tube station. For a few moments we sat in the car, unsure what to say. I knew it was time to make a move. Can you imagine how it felt to tear myself from his presence?

"Thanks for your help, Mr. Thorne. Have a safe trip." I opened the door and dashed out before I could reveal to him the tears that were rolling down my face. But as I skittered off, I heard him shout after me, "How d'ya know my name?" He had never actually introduced himself.

 

*

 

I wandered around a bit, cried until I was empty again, and mopped myself up in the ladies' room of a coffee bar- and then an idea struck me. Another tube took me to the Lloyds' Building and its infamous lift. I reasoned with myself that there was no way I could cross Terry's portal without him, unless...I decided it would cost me nothing to try- so I tried. And lo and behold I felt the whoosh of the passage and I was over. I had entered Terry's portal alone. But not really alone. I smiled sadly and placed my hand on my child. Our child. Terry was with me- part of him was tucked up safe within my womb. Perhaps here in Terry's reality I would find some key to ease me into where I needed to be.

Where to next? I checked in the directory in a telephone booth in the foyer of the building and looked up an address. TOL International. There it was - the same building and the same number. I made my way over to Canada Quay and took the lift to his floor. TOL. There was no difference between this and the office that I had visited many times; the same subtle frontage with just a brass plaque announcing the company's name in discreet lettering.

I entered through the glass doors, made my way to reception, rang the bell and a young woman came out. I even knew her - her name is Clare. But she didn't know me.

"Can I help you?" I was suddenly struck by my image. I was pregnant, dressed in a loose frock with a floral print, kind of 1920s style, a thick knit mauve cardigan and a long wool coat that I was no longer able to button. I looked like some New Age hippy, my hair plaited and no makeup. I wondered at what Terry would make of me? The previous Terry had seemed to register no sign of attraction but it was hard to be sure with him. He was never one to make his feelings very obvious on the surface.

Is Terry Thorne in?" I garbled, my heart already thumping. This time I was going to be more forthright and tell him everything, even if he thought I was mad. I slipped my hand into my shoulder bag and clutched the DVD of Proof of Life. That would show him that he was indeed a film character in another reality and might give some credence to the wild fantasy I was about to tell him- not to mention the news that he was about to become a father to a baby that he hadn't had the pleasure of planting in my womb.

"Mr. Thorne? You want to see Mr. Thorne? Why? I mean...may I ask the nature of your visit?" Clare seemed a little upset; her manner threw me off my stride a little.

Um...it's a personal matter. We're friends."

Clare looked at me and I could feel the cool appraisal. Pregnant woman - personal matter- hmmmm. "Wait here," she muttered and disappeared into the inner office.

I sat down on the black leather couch and twiddled my thumbs nervously, playing with the straps of my shoulder bag. It was so quiet in the reception area that you could have heard a pin drop. Or the beating of my heart. Or the kicking of my child as it reacted to my jumpy state. I tried to breathe slowly. 'I am supposed to keep calm and think happy thoughts for the well being of my child.' But some things are impossible.

"Good morning. My name is William Caines - can I help you?" A tall good looking man entered my field of vision. He was a big bloke, muscular and fit, lean-hipped and virile with that athletic stride of a man who is intensely physically confident. He was roughly handsome, ruddy faced with thick black curly hair and piercing blue eyes. In another life I would have fancied him something rotten and made a move on him. Now he was just the wrong man.

"I wanted to see Terry Thorne."

"I'm afraid that's impossible. Are you a friend?"

"Yes."

"Look...you'd better come into my office. He led me down the functional red carpeted corridor to Terry's office. Warning bells began to sound. He opened the door and led me in. The office was essentially the same but there were a few differences. Gone was the pin board of his favourite snaps and the beautiful glass sculpture that I had brought him when I had first visited; I had told him that he should keep it by him to remind him of me. It was only much later that the sexual connotation of the erotic pudenda-like shell occurred to him; he shook his head in amusement when we had discussed it later. But those signs of his unexpectedly eclectic taste were missing. Instead the room was fairly barren of any individual style, apart from a photograph of a woman and two children displayed on the desk. I took a seat and William sat down opposite me at the desk.

"You haven't seen Terry for a while then?" William began. I shook my head trying to pick up clues from his demeanour. He was grimly serious, his K and R face to the fore, giving little away.

"I'm sorry, Miss..." I gave him my name. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this but there's really no easy way. Terry had an accident last summer. His wife was kidnapped in a revenge attack for an earlier case he had been involved in. Terry went in after her. They didn't make it, I'm afraid."

I didn't faint. My eyes were open throughout and I heard and saw everything that he said but the scene seemed to have suddenly faded to slow motion. My ears rang with cymbals and bile rose into my throat. William's face seemed to soften and float before my eyes- but I held on.

Are you OK?"

"Tell me what happened," I blurted out.

He paused, assessing me, but deciding to go on. "An old enemy- we all make them in this business. A guy called Rawlins - a very dangerous man. He arranged it and then Terry and Dino (you know him?)..." I nodded. "They took off after Ann, Terry's wife... But she was dead when they got there and Terry got killed in the aftermath. He took a couple of bullets. The killer was called Raul. He got away. Rawlins bought it...I'm sorry. How well did you know Terry?"

I waved my hand, unable to speak, a wracking sob heaving inside me. Finally I gasped out, "Rather well, actually."

He looked at me closely and I could see his thought processes. He didn't say anything- for which I was grateful- but his silent sympathy said it all. "Thank you for telling me. I'm sure it wasn't pleasant for you." I stood up, stumbled slightly and he extended a hand to steady me. Walking out he led me back to the lifts. We didn't say much. As we waited he suddenly turned. "He was one of the good guys. The best. We all miss him."  I could see his sterling reserve cracking for a second and the real emotion leaking through. I was grateful for that little glimpse of the real man beneath.

I nodded and whispered, "I know. Me too." He missed Terry. But not as much as I did.

In a pub nearby, I played with a glass of mineral water, trying to make sense of it all. In Terry's reality he had met Ann and they had made it as a couple. What about Jack? Maybe he never arrived until after. I mean, I had always wondered why he had come almost a year before his film debuted- why not November 14th? If I had not been part of PW in his reality then maybe neither had Jack. Ann would have been Terry's number One and their relationship would have worked- of course it would have. Or perhaps there was no PW in Terry's reality. Maybe he had met Ann in his real life and they had formed a private relationship.  Caines had said wife, not girlfriend or partner. Ann is always strict about not using that title. Had they actually married in this reality?

I wondered if she had moved to London, forsaking her much loved home for the cold streets of the capital. Or perhaps Terry had settled there in New Orleans? The end had come in the swamps. The end. Imagine the horror of losing them both? How had the World dealt with that? And then it struck me. Jack and I had been necessary to save them. Without us, things took a wrong turn. Now I was gone. Would fate take another unexpected path? Terry had died in Heather's reality and his own but he hadn't in ours. In mine he apparently had not found much happiness...but the more I ran it through my brain, the less sense it made. One thing was for sure. I wasn't going to reach him through the portals.

Back in my reality, I went back to the hotel and took a nap. My mind might be a whirl of possibility but my body was a different matter. Exhaustion claimed me and I sank into a deep sleep, my dreams unremembered, until I awoke early evening, hungry and groggy. A quick shower, change of clothes and I went looking for food. Sitting in another rundown pub, eating a tasteless casserole, I sank my head in one hand and flicked though the pages of a free newspaper. An item on the front page caught my eye.

 

 

There was a picture; they were both looking great. Happy. Parents now. Holding hands and looking at toys in the famous store. I felt a lump in my throat. I used to know what he was doing from the sites. These days I never went online; it was all too much now that I had lost all of my Brothers and Sisters. I did not need the pain of memory.

I thought about Russell as I knew him and how he had wanted to be part of the world he had unknowingly created. Then something occurred to me. Russ. Was he the key? After all, he seemed the same in all the realities - as if they all merged in him. Could he take me back to Terry somehow? Would he if I asked? I think he would.

It isn't the easiest task in the world to get close to a celebrity. He was staying at the Dorchester and their security is as tight as a drum, which is why celebs stay there, I suppose. I spent the better part of a morning sitting in the lounge but he never appeared through the normal exits. It occurred to me that he wouldn't use them anyway, probably preferring back entrances away from the paparazzi to striding in full view through the waiting crowds.

The foyer was grand and typical of older hotels, opulent, over done, marble and wood abounding, footsteps silent on the thick carpet, extravagant flower arrangements of exotic plants and blooms, the insulated world of unreal hospitality. In the end I decided on direct action. I had come this far- there was no going back. Striding up to the desk, I boldly asked for Mr. Crowe's suite. There was a double take but the effete gentleman on reception covered up his surprise with a slick smile.

"Have you an appointment?"

No, I'm a friend. Name of Lotta Lamarre. If you tell him, he will see me."

The man nodded smugly and made a surreptitious phone call with his back turned. He was soon back. "Someone is coming down."

A few minutes later one of Russ's 'people' came over, hostility and suspicion evident.

"What's this about?"

He looked me over and his face said that he had a pretty shrewd idea.

"I need to see Russell urgently. A personal matter."

"Are you fucking joking, love?" A harsh but not unexpected response.

"Please, he won't mind. Just mention my name. Lotta..."

"Oh yeah...I know who you are. Lotta of the restaurant fame. Last August. And look at you now...grown a bit, haven't you?" He indicated my pregnant belly. I groaned inwardly. "Look this is not about ..."

"Love, you are not laying this on him now. I doubt it's his anyway- he's actually been as good as gold since he settled down, but the press would have a field day. I'm warning you he will fight you down the line. He won't let anything or anyone cast shadows on what he's got now. Give it up- you won't get a penny."

I ran my hands through my hair. "Look, this isn't about the baby. He's not the father of my child!"

"So, that's straight, is it? Good, now run along and find another victim."

"But it's about something else...!"

The man put his hands up. "You're not getting near him. His wife and child are up there with him. No chance." With a nod, he summoned security and I was escorted off the premises like a criminal.

I tried waiting in a café across the street to see if he exited but all I caught was a glimpse of the family through the darkened windows of a limo as they were whisked away, apparently to the airport and back to the States. The last door clanged shut in my face.

I went home. Gave up. There was only once chance left to me now. I simply had to trust in him. Maybe Terry would find me after all. After all it is what he does best.

 

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