Up until now life had been fairly un-dramatic for Roger Peel, but shockingly he was becoming thoroughly frightened. Suddenly and out of a clear blue sky nothing was as it was. Later he tried to remember precisely what had happened.
He clearly remembered alighting from the train on his way home after a very normal day at work. He was somewhat annoyed at the lateness of the train, but that was not uncommon, the damn thing was hardly ever on time. He had as usual walked the half mile or so from the station. He even remembered noting who had recently mowed their lawns and who had not. It was a close and friendly neighbourhood and he would tease a couple of them about it.
It all went horribly wrong when he reached his own place. He knew it to be his place because it was where he and his family lived, and had lived for the previous eleven years. He strolled confidently up the drive noting as he did that the flower bed on the right hand side of the drive needed weeding, he would see to it this coming weekend.
He was looking forward to the usual loving reception when he walked in and announced that he was home. Reaching his front door he took out his keys and selecting the Yale key slid it easily into its slot in the lock, but it would not turn. It did not matter what he did the key failed to work. He checked to see if he had the right key—which it was as there was only one Yale key on the ring. He tried it again and it still refused to unlock the door. There must be a logical explanation, he would sort it out later.
So without any more fiddling about he pocketed the keys and pressed the door bell. He relaxed as he heard the familiar chime from within the house and footsteps. He heard the lock turned from the inside and the door opened to reveal not his wife or one of the children but a complete and utter stranger. `Yes?’ The man said.
As his mind churned, he was so astonished that he simply stood there and gawped.
`Yes?’ What can I do for you?’ The man said very politely.
`Is Agnes there?’ Said Roger trying to see past the man.
`I am sorry,’ said the man `there is no Agnes here, I’m afraid you must have the wrong house.’
`But I live here,’ said Roger now getting angry, `please stop mucking about and let me pass.’
`I’m sorry,’ repeated the man, `but I have lived here for the last umpteen years, I’ll call my wife, she will confirm it.’ He called down the hall. ` Doris can you spare a moment. Dear.’
An attractive buxom lady he had never seen before joined the man at the door.
`Doris, how long would you say that you have lived here with me and the boy?’
Doris acknowledged Roger with a nod.
`I would say about seventeen years give or take.’ responded Doris.
Roger found that he was getting truly frightened. But the couple seemed to be genuinely friendly, so Roger took a gamble.
`I am sorry to be a nuisance but could I come in for a moment. Something strange is happening to me.’
`I think you had better come in and sit down for a while, you don’t look at all well.’
So Roger entered noting as he did the hall carpet with its familiar Indian design and the picture of the Eiffel tower taken on their visit to Paris only the previous year. It was all so familiar—this really was his home. So what on earth were these other people doing here and where was his wife and his son and daughter.
`You look as if you’ve had a shock, I think you could do with a drink, and by the way my name is Alan Brownlow, my wife Doris you’ve just met.’
Roger felt close to tears. What was happening? If this was not his house, then where was his place? Where did he live? Had lived since before Alice his daughter was born to be shortly followed by Charles his son.
He accepted the whiskey Alan handed to him and took a welcoming sip. Then another, this time the sip was a gulp.
Alan made a suggestion.
`Lets see what information you have got on you,’ he said. `Empty your pockets on to the table here.’
Roger saw this as the only thing he could do, so a small pile of the stuff men carry about appeared on the table as Roger tipped out the contents of his pockets. There were the usual banking cards, his works pass, some cash in notes, and thankfully he thought a business card which had his address and phone number on it.
Both men stared at the business card in astonishment but for different reasons. Roger was able to show that he had some connection with the property in which they now sat since the card had this address on it. Alan on the other hand wondered why the card had Roger’s name followed by this address, his address.
There was a phone number on the card which both men claimed was their own phone number, and which Alan checked was the number of the house line.
There seemed to be no reasonable explanation and Roger still had nowhere to go nor any means of contacting his family—his wife Agnes and son and daughter. He was aware that time was pressing on and they would be worrying about him.
Alan became aware of the look of desperation which appeared on Roger’s pale features. `What is it?’ He asked.
Roger was holding back tears of frustration.
`I have nowhere to go, and I have no idea what to do,’ he said simply.
Alan looked at the crestfallen man. `Excuse us for a moment or two,’ he said, and taking Doris by the arm left the room.
They were gone for only a short while in which Roger looked round at this all too familiar room and its furnishings. There was the settee where he and Agnes had made love by way of claiming the house when they first moved in.
There was the water colour painting he had brought back from the Paris trip, and his stereo unit with his CD’s stood where it belonged by the window. There was nothing he could see which was not as it should be.
The door opened slowly and an attractive young girl appeared. `Oh hallo,’ she said, `dad did say we had company, you must be Roger, I’m Helen. I’ll see you later.’ She added and disappeared.
A few minutes later Alan re-appeared.
`You clearly have serious problem which we cannot solve tonight, so we have agreed that you can stay for a day or two to sort yourself out. We have a spare room which Doris is making ready for you now.
`Whilst we are on our own tell me about you and your life with as much detail as you can, somehow we have to solve this mystery.’
Roger then spent a good hour relating all he could remember about his life. Both men were searching for a possible solution to the problem as to how he, Roger, came to be so very lost.
Doris came in with tea and biscuits and suggested they left the issue alone to give their minds a rest, as she put it.
After watching the late news on TV, they decided by mutual agreement to retire.
* * *
You might think that Roger would pass a disturbed night but in fact he fell into a dreamless sleep and was only awakened by the daylight flooding through the net curtains his wife had recently announced she didn’t like and would get rid of and by Doris’s gentle knock on his door, and in she came with a small tray of tea and biscuits and a nice smile.
Breakfast was a silent affair with all parties engrossed I their own thoughts.
Helen was the first to leave the table and with a backwards nod, and a `See you later.’ she was gone.
`Children!’ Exclaimed Doris, and with that the two men said their respective farewells and left the house.
Once at work Roger felt much better and the first thing he did was to ring his wife using the number on his card. Almost immediately the familiar voice of Agnes said `Hallo, this is—,’ and here she quoted that same number.
Then in response to his `Hallo my dear.’ he got an ear full. `Don’t you hallo me as if everything was normal—where the heck were you last night. I don’t mind your staying out but you should have let me know—I’ve been up all night worrying. And so have the kids. Anyway where were you for heavens sake?. I was just about to call the police.’
Her tone of voice and her obvious concern cut deeply into his heart. It was time to sort this thing out.
`Look,’ he said `I have a serious problem which I cannot discuss on the phone so I have asked for the day off and will be with you to explain just as soon as I can make it home.’
`Now I know this may sound a stupid question but please tell me what is my address?’
`What the… Oh well just to humour you it’s—and she reeled off that very same address where he spent the night.
He was baffled. None of it made any kind of sense.
`And do I live there with you and our two children?’
`Yes of course.’
—!
`Are you still there?’ She said into the silence.
`Yes,’ he said, `I’ll see you in a short while.’ and rang off.
* * *
Then there he was outside the same house in the same street as last night. But it had an empty look. There was no answer to the door bell, nor to his knocking.
He was now very frightened, and he sat on the garden wall and wept.
An elderly lady who was passing tried to comfort him. `I’m lost.’ was his simple reply to her questions.
It was approaching lunch time so he decide to retire to the pub just round the corner. With the second pint he gradually became aware that he had seen the man of the house Alan somewhere before—and this situation had something to do with him—but what?
A third pint was called for and he had a feeling of being in two different worlds at the same time. Then suddenly he saw himself as if he was a separate individual and was being challenged by this man who called himself Alan.
A fourth pint, and he was overcome. A scene appeared before him and he knew it to be real…
There he was in a large theatre, the Palace, it was. He was there with Agnes but not with Agnes. He was on the stage with Alan who was asking him a load of questions.
`So, you are sure you cannot be hypnotised?’
`No. You can try but you will fail.’
`Supposing I can make you believe something which is not true—will you admit to it?’
`OK but it’s not possible.’
Then the key to his current dilemma—`I will make you think that you live somewhere else.’
At this point he passed out.
* * *
He came to and the first thing he saw was those curtains in the bedroom which Agnes had always said she would get rid of. He was home at last.
JML
1/8/2011.