Life Shift (11 page)

“Okay,” he said, turning over. He showed no signs of wanting to get up.

Christine got out of bed and pulled on her dressing gown. The house felt chilly. She pulled the blind back to look at the weather. The sun was just starting to rise and casting a tepid glow over the river.
 

She walked downstairs and found Teresa already in front of the TV, cartoons ablaze on the screen. The volume was too loud so she turned it down.

“Mum,” said Teresa crossly.
 

“It’s bad for your ears Teri, I have told you before,” she said to her. “Now what do you want for breakfast – sugarpuffs or frosties?”
 

“Sugarpuffs please,” said Teresa, turning her attention back to the TV.

Christine wandered into the kitchen. She turned the filter machine on for coffee. She wouldn’t eat anything before her morning run but she would need a cup of coffee to get her going. But as she held the glass jug in her hand a strange feeling came over her. She saw herself holding the jug but in a different kitchen. Then the image changed and she saw herself lying on the floor, the jug smashed beside her, broken glass everywhere. Then that image vanished too and she was standing again in her usual kitchen, jug in hand, floor free of glass. What was that about, she wondered, putting her other hand on the counter to steady herself. What was happening?

After a moment she felt a little calmer. It was nothing. Just tiredness and a lack of caffeine. She put the jug in its slot in the filter machine and turned the machine on. She then poured Teresa her cereal, adding the smallest splash of milk, just the way Teresa liked. She took it into her.

“Thanks Mum,” said Teresa, as she took the bowl. Christina ruffled her daughter's hair in response then went back to the kitchen to empty the dishwasher as she waited for the coffee to finish brewing.

Once it was ready she poured herself a mug and one for Matt. She took it upstairs for him. He was more awake when she entered the bedroom than when she had left him earlier. She passed him the mug of coffee.

“Did you sleep okay?” she asked him.

“Lovely,” he said, “Particularly after the little treat last night.” He smiled suggestively. “Want to go for it again?”

She laughed. “Drink your coffee and get up and look after your daughter mister. I have to go out for my run.”

“You’re going out this early?” he said.

“It’s not that early, it’s ten o’clock. And if I don’t do it this morning I won’t do it at all today and then I’ll be behind in my training programme.”

“Okay, okay.” He took a sip of his coffee and then laid back down. Christine changed into her running kit and went back downstairs to the kitchen to get her coffee. She took it into the living room and sat on the sofa watching Teresa watching TV.

Her dark hair was still tousled from sleep. It was growing so long now. She remembered it as a baby with its strange kinks and twists. It was a lot straighter now. In profile she reminded Christine of Matt but she knew that when looked at straight on Teresa was the image of her. There were photographs of Christine as a child that could just as easily have been photos of Teresa. The same dark hair, round green eyes, small pursed lips, the same frown of concentration in every photo. Even now Teresa was frowning as she focused on the cartoons before her.

It was so strange yet so wonderful having another version of yourself by your side. It was almost as if you were being given a second chance at life – an opportunity to try it all again through eyes that were
 
both your own and not your own.

And yet Teresa was also very different from Christine. Whereas Christine had been painfully shy as a child Teresa was confident and outgoing. Making friends was easy for Teresa. For Christine it had been a feat she’d never managed to really achieve - until Matt. Party invites came thick and fast for Teresa and she accepted them all happily, delighted to be in the company of others. Christine in contrast had been too shy to accept many of the party invites that came her way. She knew she would feel awkward and out of place while she was there and that eventually the mother of the party girl would take pity on her and take Christine under her wing, giving her little jobs to do to keep her busy while the other children ran around, played and had fun. It was easier for Christine not to go to these parties and her parents hadn’t pushed it. She was glad Teresa was different from her, but where she got her confidence from was a mystery to Christine. Matt was like her – shy and reserved. Once they were a couple he confessed to her how hard it had been to approach her that first day in class, how much he had had to force himself to
 
speak to her. “But I also knew I had no choice,” he had said, “The moment I saw you I knew we were meant to be together.”

The cartoon had finished and Teresa turned to Christine. “Can I go over Joey’s today?”

“I thought you wanted to go swimming today?”

Teresa wrinkled her nose. “It’s too cold to go swimming Mum.”

“How can it be too cold?” asked Christine, “The pool is inside the leisure centre remember. It’s heated!”

“Still too cold. You told me not to go out with wet hair.”

“There are hair dryers there, so you wouldn’t be going out with wet hair.”

“You never dry it enough with the dryer Mum, it’s always damp.”

“Well it’s up to you. You can do whatever you prefer.”

“Joey’s!” exclaimed Teresa as she turned back to the cartoon.

Well that was that then. Christine didn’t mind. She could spend the afternoon catching up on her marking if Teresa was over Joey’s.

The living room door opened and Matt came in and slumped down on the sofa. “I’m still tired,” he said, “Don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Do you want another cup of coffee?” she asked him.
 

“No I’m ok, you go off on your run. I’ll catch up on the cartoons with Teresa, won’t I Teri?”

“Hmmm,” Teresa answered, still engrossed.

Christine got up and kissed them both on the top of their heads. She went over to her desk and picked up her iPod which had been charging. She put the headphones into her ears, waved them goodbye and went out the front door.

She walked briskly down to the end of the road that ran alongside the river before turning left into the wooded area that was her main running track. It was beautiful all year round but never more so than in early winter when some of the trees were already bare and the ground was covered with soft brown leaves that were easy on her joints. She did a few stretches, enjoying the clean fresh air. She then turned her iPod on. The Jam’s Going Underground started, her favourite song to get her going in the early stages of a run when her body was stiff and her lungs protesting.

She started to run. She had begun running not long after leaving school for university. From the first moment she had been introduced to the university drinking culture and a life of fast food and chocolate she had worried about how she would keep slim for Matt. She was constantly worried that he would find the other female students in university more attractive than her, that he would fall in love with someone else. They had both agreed to go to the same university and live at home with their parents to save money, and both quickly found they were spending a lot of time at the university with new friends. It was good for them both to widen their circle they agreed. They had been loners together in the sixth form, their fellow students had seen how wrapped up in each other they were and had left them to it. University life was different.
 
They made different friends because they were studying different subjects – Christine was studying Theology and Matt was studying English Literature. Sometimes they even went out in the evening to different places with different people, something they had never done before. It was then that Christine sought courage in alcohol, to help her become a more confident version of herself, someone who could cope with social occasions without Matt - indeed could even enjoy them. But the next day when hangover induced paranoia was attacking
 
she would worry about Matt’s faithfulness and
 
found herself growing increasingly fixated on her weight. If she didn’t stay slim she would lose him. And that was when she started running.

Of course he was faithful and gave her nothing but reassurance. He told her she was beautiful. He told her he would always love her no matter what her size -
 
slim or heavy. But during those early years at university nothing apart from running really seemed to soothe her. Looking back Christine could see that she was just struggling to cope with the change – leaving the safety and security of school for the new and unknown, starting her degree and meeting new people who often seemed smarter than she was. She felt out of control. Everything was changing too fast. Matt was her anchor. The more unsettled she felt the more she wanted to cling to him, to hold him to her, to reassure herself he wouldn’t leave. But she held back, not wanting to appear too needy or clingy. And so she found running, and it saved her.

Because when running Christine discovered an escape, a way of getting back in touch with something beyond her anxieties and neuroses, a way of getting back in touch with her true self. The pounding of her feet, the beat of her heart, the ache of her limbs – all were real and tangible unlike the tormenting thoughts that danced in her brain.
 

And as her body grew physically stronger so did her own self-esteem. She had loved the changes that running brought to her body. When she saw the muscles developing in her legs she had glowed with pride. She had also started going to the university gym to use the rowing machine and cross trainer to help tone her upper body. Not too much, just enough to look shapely and firm.

Exercise and running were now the great stress relievers in Christine’s life. She had continued to run all through university and even when pregnant (although Matt had fretted then). And when Teresa was born she bought a racing pram so that she could take Teresa out on her runs with her. Those had been blissful times. Pounding through the streets early in the morning, Teresa asleep in the pram, unaware of the whiz of houses and cars passing her by. And even though Teresa was asleep Christine has felt she was sharing something with her daughter, introducing her to the world in a unique way.

This morning’s run was as exhilarating as usual. She felt ready to go faster twenty minutes in and kicked off sharply. The air was pumping through her lungs, her legs felt loose and relaxed. There was no one around.
 
She seemed to have the entire area to herself.

Or so she thought. But when she rounded the next corner she saw a figure ahead of her, a male figure, also running. Her heart skipped a beat, she didn’t know why. Part of her wanted to slow down, to hold back. Matt never really liked her running in these woods anyway, but after several arguments about it had learned not to push it anymore. She needed to run, she told him, and these woods were on the doorstep.

But this man … why did she feel so uneasy? It wasn’t the first time she had come across other runners in the woods. And dog walkers and ramblers. All would politely nod their heads and smile at each other as they passed by, mutual respect for anyone who was out there enjoying the area, this beautiful area, rather than slouching at home watching another mindless programme on TV.

She slowed down, almost walking now not running. Should she turn around and run back the way she had come rather than doing her usual loop she wondered. But she kept going. The man ahead also seemed to have slowed, so that despite her snail-like pace she was still gaining on him. She noticed he had dark hair, a muscular upper body and strong legs. He looked fit, clearly he worked out.

She was near him now. She didn’t know what to do. As if in answer he came to a stop and turned around. She saw his face and pulled up short. A searing white light came into her head.

“Damien?” she said, “Damien?”

“Christine, are you okay?” Damien asked.

She ran towards him. “Oh Damien, where have you been?” she cried. Images were assailing her. Sugar puffs, cartoons, a river that shimmered in the moonlight, Matt in bed. But before her was Damien. She threw herself into his arms and started to cry, sobbing, shoulders shaking. How could she have forgotten him? Damien. How could she ever forget Damien?

He pulled back from her and looked at her. “What’s going on Christine?” he said.

She looked around. They were on the promenade that ran alongside the bay. The sea was glistening, the lighthouse bright in the distance. Their usual running place. They had run here for years and had always run together. But somewhere else she was in a wood running alone, her husband and child back home watching cartoons and her daughter planning her afternoon at Joey’s. It was all too much for her. She was going to be sick. She fell down on her knees and started to dry heave. Damien put his hand on her back. There was nothing coming up. She’d only had coffee today. Or had she? What had she had in this world? She turned around and lay flat on the ground looking up at the sky. This sky. Damien crouched down beside her and brushed her hair away from her face.

“What’s going on?” he asked again, quietly.

She looked at him. Could she tell him? Should she tell him? He was her best friend. She always told him everything. But would he think she was mad? But if she carried on like this he would think that anyway.

“I need to talk to you,” she said, getting up. “But not here, can we go home first?”

He nodded and took her hand. In silence they walked together back to the car and drove home.

 
CHAPTER SIXTEEN

After the conversation she lay in bed feeling cold and shivery. She could hear him on the phone talking in a quiet whisper to her mother. It was as she had feared. He did not believe her. His face had looked shocked, disbelieving, amazed even when she spoke. And when she mentioned Matt and what seemed to have happened he looked angry too, very angry. “So you’re seeing this other world often then?” he’d asked once. She’d replied, telling him the number of times it had happened, and how long the last one had lasted, and the fact that this time she had forgotten about her real life. Again he’d looked sad and hurt.