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Stomping into the kitchen, she flung the remains of her tea into the sink. Where the hell was David!
Yanking open the cupboard that held a new packet of cookies, she grabbed it and tore it open with her teeth. She swung around too fast and the corner of the cupboard door caught her with a sharp blow to the side of her head. Tears of pain filled her eyes.
“Shit! Fuck! Damn!” she screamed. “Yeah, I just swore blue murder. Come on, Daddy, spank me!”
She lashed out with her foot and kicked the bottom of the sink unit. Pain exploded in her toes. Hopping about the room she cussed repeatedly, screaming insults at her daddy. Finally she collapsed in a heap on the floor. Sobbing piteously until she had no tears left, Penny dragged her sorry self into the bedroom and crawled back into bed.
Unable to sleep because her head ached and her toes hurt meant she had time to think. She faced the fact that this separation from David was real. No amount of sleep was going to bring her husband back. This wasn’t some fleeting nightmare.
Sucking in a shuddering breath, she rose from the bed and fetched her shoulder travel bag to retrieve her passport. She read her name, Penelope Jayne West. Flat 4, 200 Southwood Road, Highgate. An idea occurred to her and crossing to her case she studied the luggage label, but it stated the same address. Dragging her case up onto the bed, she searched through the contents until she found what she was looking for, her medical insurance forms.
“Mrs. P. J. Forrester, The Firs,” she read the first part of her address out loud. A thought occurred; her suitcase was made from titanium, which might explain why everything inside it remained the same while everything external that she had with her inside the cabin of the plane, such as her phone, had altered. This confirmed it for her. As crazy as it sounded, she must have switched into some kind of alternative dimension. She googled other dimensions on her laptop and read several articles on the subject before opening a website that quoted something by Professor Steven Hawkins.
The idea is that according to Quantum Theory, the universe doesn’t have just a unique, single history. Instead, the universe has every single possible history, each with its own probability.
Closing the computer, Penny pondered what she’d learned. “I’m in an entirely different place, another reality.” Saying those words out loud gave them power and meaning. A rush of sudden panic caused her to quake. Her head felt as though her brain had split. She dropped onto the bed in a daze.
After some time had passed, she rose, and went to brew more tea. She needed to think. Who could she contact? If she spoke to a doctor he would mark her down as delusional, perhaps even mentally ill. If she went to someone science based, and actually managed to convince them she was from another dimension, another life, but then what? They’d not help her return. Surely they’d want to simply study her? Maybe even lock her up in some sort of secret science-based prison.
It was clear to her she was completely alone in this. She must set aside her self-pity. She needed to build a plan of action.
* * *
Two hours later Pennywas showered and dressed. A pad of paper on her lap and pen in hand, she made a list of everyone she knew who had known David. She had a purpose now. It was time to find her husband.
The first person to try to contact was her mother-in-law. Could she remember the telephone number? Recalling it, she hurriedly wrote the number onto her notepad. She hoped it was correct in this weird alternate world.
Concocting a story that her mother-in-law might believe took a few precious moments. Recalling that David had lived in Oxford with his paternal grandmother while he was at Oxford University, she recalled David had mentioned knowing several Mikes when he was there. It didn’t take her long to invent a plausible tale to spin with David’s mother. She remembered his mother had taken a job at the Ritz in London after her husband, David’s father, had been killed when David was only two. Apparently he’d been knocked over by a car when cycling to work on a foggy day. Mrs. Forrester had met her second husband, an American, while working behind reception at the famous London hotel. David had been adopted by his stepfather and grew up in the States, returning to Britain for his University education, after which he’d remained in England.
Taking a mouthful of tea to steady her nerves, she dialled America.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Hunter, hi, you don’t know me, but my brother, Mike, was at University with your son, David. Sadly my brother has died. I need to contact David about the funeral. Do you have an email address or contact number for him?” How weird it was talking to her mother-in-law like she was a stranger.
“I am sorry to hear such sad news. Hold on and I’ll fetch you David’s details.”
Penny finished the call with a sense of excitement. The fact she carried David’s parents’ telephone number in her head correctly was all the evidence she needed to prove that she had switched worlds, dimensions, whatever. She bounced on the couch.
Next on her to-do list was Penny’s workplace. She emailed Ameeba and told them she was taking a leave of absence. Their answer explained that she had ten weeks paid vacation owing; she’d never taken more than the odd day from work before. Her reply was that she was taking the whole ten weeks beginning tomorrow.
The rest of her day was spent on the laptop that she had found in the desk in the second bedroom. Searching for information on David Forrester, it took her less than five minutes to work out the other Penny’s login password, an amalgamation of the names Tom, Lucy, and Jack. Her research revealed David worked for a hedge fund in the Square Mile. Her daddy always did have a head for business, but a hedge fund? She now had a contact, a place to go and meet him, but how to begin? A sense of purpose filled her. She was going to get her daddy back.
