Rewind, page 12
“But I don’t think I want to Max, remember we said we had to stop playing with time…”
“I was speculating Bridge, you got given this power. There must be a reason for it…?”
Bridget shrugged again. She stuffed a pizza corner in her mouth.
“You told me that I was changing too many fates, can you imagine the changes I’d cause if I undid my sister’s vanishing…!”
“Would she still vanish? Remember our theory about certain things happening regardless of changes… Was her disappearance one of those?”
Bridget shrugged again. She enjoyed talking time-travel theories, but this one was foul because it anchored on her sister.
“Max, I don’t know… But I’m sick of talking about it. It’s bad enough she’s back…”
“Why you so angry about that?”
Bridget felt a knot of rage in her chest. She yearned to lash out, to shout and scream but it wasn’t fair on Max.
“Because she hurt us. Because of her, my father spends more and more time at the university. He can’t handle being in the house, can’t handle her being gone. My mother is just the same, only she suffered the most. When that shitty little diary of her’s came to light, my mother took it the hardest. She has struggled all her life to look after me and Chris, has fought against her own demons and Chris just threw them-!” Bridget made a strong thrust with her hand, “in her face. Told her she was a shit mum. My mother is not a shit mother, she’s a fucking amazing mother. Amazing because of who she is, what she dealt with and for always trying to make it work with Chris…”
Max was quiet, she could feel the pressure slowly leaving Bridget. It was like finally popping the head on a zit and all the puss was oozing out.
“…She hurt mum, hurt her so bad. My mum spent all her life trying to balance us, trying to do a good job. She fucked up sometimes, but who doesn’t… Yet Chris never gave her a chance. She just kept picking, and picking, and picking. It wasn’t fair what she wrote in her diary. It wasn’t fair about mum, it wasn’t fair about me. You can’t hole yourself in your fucking room and then whine you’re neglected. You can’t talk to people like they’re shit and then hate them for not bothering with you. You can’t hate someone for always spending time with me, yet squander your own opportunities… You can’t hate someone for being a good person… For trying to make it work, for trying to not be the better child but they’re forced to anyway because you’re such a shit…” Bridget began crying.
“She hated you for that?” Max had never realised quite how deep the wound went.
“She hated me because I was ‘perfect’ but she didn’t realise I didn’t want to be, I didn’t want to be the prodigal daughter. I just couldn’t let my parents down, every time she fucked up or hurt them, I felt I had to compensate… Then she’d hate me more, she never realised that I was doing it because of her…” Bridget dropped her pizza back on the cardboard box and began sobbing into her chest.
Max climbed out of bed and embraced her.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s okay…”
************************************
08:59 am 1st November 2015
Bridget entered the house. She’d entered through the backdoor, as her mother warned her to. She said there was no media out front, but she wasn’t prepared to take any chances and warned her daughter to take heed. She slipped into the kitchen.
She was dressed in her pyjamas, it had attracted a few odd glances from passers by, but Bridget was beyond caring.
“Hey darling,” Diana greeted. She smiled warmly.
“Hey mom,” she closed in for a hug.
“Where’s Dad?”
“Upstairs, making a few phone calls… He’s obviously not going in today,”
Diana turned back to the kettle. The kitchen was modest, it was slightly open plan. A large doorway had been carved out of the wall and it opened into the dining room. The French doors that led onto the patio illuminated the aubergine dining room with ample light. Bridget took a seat at the oak dining table, the one built for six. She plucked a purple placemat ready for the brew that was coming her way. The kitchen shared the same aubergine and oak palette. It was cute, kitschy and compact. Two bodies was barely tolerable in a kitchen that small.
The front room was the largest room downstairs, it was teal and cream. The only other rooms downstairs was two utility cupboards under the stairs and a small neat laundry room sandwiched between the lounge and dining room. Bridget heard Frank approach before she saw him.
“He missed you last night, camped out on your bed…”
“If I’d have thought I’d have taken him with me,”
“He’d have liked that, too many people last night… Poor guy…”
“Oh poor Franky,” she ruffled his ears.
“How you doing mom?”
Diana turned, she took a seat at the table with her daughter. She was wearing a pink fluffy dressing gown, a black night dress visible underneath. Her hair was ruffled and flat down opposite sides. She hadn’t bothered getting ready for the day.
She deposited a mug of tea each.
“I’m tired… I didn’t sleep, you?”
Bridget shrugged. She felt a little better, after her little outburst last night. She wasn’t anywhere near healed though. “So-so,” she answered.
“Your father is doing ok, all points considered…”
“Has she said where she’s been yet?”
“Nope, she’s sticking to her story. Won’t say.” Diana sounded disappointed.
“You think she’s staying…?”
“I talked to the police about that, they said it was…” she forgot the word, “erm… unusual for someone to return after two years,”
“That sounds like the police don’t know either…”
Diana nodded and sighed. Her head was spinning; her daughter had just returned from the grave. She had been convinced she’d died of an overdose in some shitty little squat somewhere.
“The police are coming by later, they want to talk to you. Nothing major, I explained you don’t want to get involved in any media or anything,”
“Wonderful…” Bridget remarked, “What about you? You to be interviewed?” Bridget expected her mother would feel the same.
“Full hog I’m afraid. Me and your father have to make a statement, I don’t know what we’re going to say. I mean, we don’t exactly have a lot to go on…” she was referring to Christine’s rather lean story.
“Do you know what time?”
“Gonna hide at Max’s?”
“Until it blows over, I can’t handle it mum…”
“It’s okay, I know that. Nobody is expecting you to do anything… And I know Max will look after you,” her mother’s smile made Bridget feel a little warmer. She’d forgotten how nice it was to see it.
“I’m gonna go get some things, the police can interview me at Max’s if they want… There’s no way I’m staying here while this…” she wanted to say shitstorm but her mother wouldn’t approve, “thing, is going down…”
Bridget stood up, took her mug of tea and kissed her mother on the forehead.
“Are my fags on the side?” Diana enquired when Bridget reached the threshold.
“Can’t see ‘em mum,”
“Ok!” she called. She stood up, hunted through her workbag and found them. She would need at least four before she was ready to start with this day.
“Take Frank with you,” she hollered back into the house as she opened the patio doors.
“Oh, sleepover Franky-boy,” Bridget winked to the pug trailing behind her.
She climbed the stairs, uncertain how she felt as she ascended.
She felt uncomfortable at the top of the stairs, Chris’ door stood open. It hadn’t been like that for two years, to see it open and used was unsettling. There was no sound coming from inside the room, the curtains were drawn and it looked gloomy. If Bridget hadn’t have known better she’d have sworn the clock had been turned back. This was teenage Christine through and through.
She heard her father talking on the phone, he was pacing back and forth in her parent’s bedroom. “Yes, I understand that but Patricia needs help, she cannot go back into the community. It is unfeasible…” he was getting stressed. In the chaos it had been easy to forget that Gran-Pat was suddenly homeless following the fire, a new care home had stepped in to take some of the residents. There unfortunately was a few problems with the transferring. Social services were having a problem with the funding, saying that Gran-Pat wasn’t eligible for 24 hour care. She should have home care. Her father, Gran-Pat’s son, was arguing that there was no way his mother could return to the community. Her dementia was worse than before. The easier route would’ve been to bring her home, but it was so greatly unviable. There was nobody to care for her and the house wasn’t dementia safe.
So instead her father was toing and froing from person to person, trying to organise his mother’s safety. Bridget entered her room and decided that life was sometimes just too complicated…
CHAPTER TWELVE:
10:57 am 1st November 2015
Her sister was up to something. Bridget had dressed, showered and was just in the process of packing a few things into her rucksack when she spied a black shadow rush across the landing. Chris had waited deliberately till their father headed downstairs, given it ten minutes and was now making her move. She stealthily scuttled down the stairs. She was dressed in head to toe black. Her long brown hair was tied into a ponytail. She had a baseball cap that she adjusted as she reached the front door.
Bridget grabbed her coat and trailed her.
Chris sneaked out the front door, closing it gently and silently behind her. Bridget followed, gently descending the stairs without making a single creak. She bundled her coat on.
Christine hadn’t even been back 24 hours and already she was up to something. Why was she sneaking out of the house?
Her mother’s predictions about the media had rang true, there was no camera crew waiting to greet either sister as they snuck out of the house. Bridget was wearing a black beanie hat, a grey thick winter coat and she’d dressed into black leggings, converse boots and a woollen jumper-come-dress. Chris’ outfit looked like the cliché disguise, she stood out for all the wrong reasons, Bridget however looked normal.
She trailed behind, keeping a good pace not that Christine ever looked back.
They headed down their street, turned left. Christine cut across the park, passing a dog-walker who nodded at her but didn’t recognise her.
Bridget was recognised, she greeted Mr Collins with a brief “hello” and a nod.
Chris proceeded to head further into town centre, where exactly was she going?
Christine rounded the burnt out White Willows, not even perturbed by the destruction.
Bridget however found it quite unsettling to walk past the charred husk. It wasn’t that long ago that she’d spent a Saturday afternoon volunteering.
Chris turned down main street, she passed the hairdresser and butcher, then detoured through the side alley to emerge near the library.
Bridget felt like she was heading on a wild goose chase.
She kept a good distance back but Christine was arrogant enough to assume nobody would be following her. Chris underestimated her sister, obviously.
They turned down the side road, crossed over the main road into town centre, then they headed past the hospital.
Was she? Bridget was beginning to realise just where her sister might be going. Was she going to the squat where she disappeared? Bridget felt suddenly angry, was the bitch going to go see her druggie friends? Was that why she’d returned?
“Hey, B!” a familiar voice made her jump. She’d been so intently absorbed on following Chris that she failed to recognise Arthur. He was stood outside the hospital with his mother. They were stood on the edge of the grounds, on the pavement, because she was smoking a cigarette.
“Arthur!” she greeted in surprise. She smiled warmly at his mother when she recognised her. “Hello,”
“Hello my dear, how are you?” she smiled radiantly at Bridget. Damn she’d missed that smile, she’d missed it all. The feeling of acceptance and love from that family. The smell of Jamaican home cooking wafted into her memory. It kicked her in the guts.
“I’m doing ok, how are you? Hows-?”
“Child, he’s awoke!” she clapped her hands together joyously.
“Oh that’s marvellous news!” Bridget cried happily. She flashed a glance and saw her sister had disappeared. Shit. Where had she gone?
“It is child, it is! The Lord has done us right,”
Bridget loved the religious nature of Arthur’s parents. They were intensely faithful, but they never got preachy. They accepted their beliefs as their own; they were happy to share but they were ultimately just happy to have them for themselves.
“Oh I’m so happy for you,” Bridget beamed. She saw Arthur was looking grossly uncomfortable, that smile dropped a little.
“Anyway my child, I’ll send him your love. You,” she tapped Arthur with one hand, “have tings to sort out,”
She gave him one of those mother looks. He nodded meekly. She walked away, heading back into the hospital.
“I’m so happy for you, it’s fantastic news…”
“And yours too, your sister has come home…”
That smile Bridget had, that warm gushy cocktail of emotions, all just drained from her.
“Yeah, well that’s a whole different kettle of fish,” she dismissed the avenue of conversation. Her attention drifted back to the road. Where had she gone to? Wasn’t the squat near here? No, she was sure it was at least another ten minutes away. Not even remotely close to here, come to think of it - why had she come this way at all? To go to that particular old squat you only needed to head down the high street. The squat had been nestled into the new housing estate that been built. The hospital was a detour, unless she wasn’t going to that squat. So where was she going?
And why?
Drugs?
“Listen, I’m pleased I’ve bumped into you, I wanted to talk to you…”
Oh god, of course. The café incident sprang to mind. She’d been a bit busy, she’d not had chance to think of a plan B story yet.
“I want to tell you something… Something I should’ve told you already,”
This sounded like one of those opening lines to a story you really didn’t want to hear.
“I guess I owe you it, the truth.”
“About what?”
“Us… Why we broke up…”
Oh god. Fate really had a great knack of timing these moments. Was this fate fucking her over because of her dabbling? Was this karma?
“Listen Arthur, I’m not sure if this is the right place, or the right time…” Bridget turned her attention back to the road. Would she manage to catch up with Chris? Or was she too far gone? Shit…
“Bridget, there’s never gonna be a perfect time to say this, or do this… I keep trying to find the time to tell you. I wanted to tell you at the party but…” he trailed off. He was distracted by the café incident for a moment. He couldn’t make sense of it.
“About that, I was-”
“-Bridget, I cheated on you…”
The world fell out of from under her feet. What? His quiet confession hit her like a truck.
“What?” she stammered. His handsome face melted in guilt. Tears welled up in his eyes.
“I cheated on you…” he repeated.
“Wi-wi-with who?”
“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” he sounded desperate. Regardless whether he meant it or not, it still had happened. “I got drunk and it just happened,”
His rationalisation didn’t help. Her eyes welled up with the betrayal.
“With who Arthur?”
“…Damian…”
Bridget visibly recoiled. She’d expected Arthur to say it was some one night stand, some girl he couldn’t remember the name of. Some drunken mistake. She had not expected him to ever say the name of a guy. A guy from Arthur’s mathematics class. She’d met him in passing a few times, hadn’t really paid much attention. She hadn’t even known he was gay.
She felt like she’d been punched in the gut suddenly. She didn’t know how to process that.
“…We got drunk, and it… it just happened…”
Bridget shook her head, she couldn’t handle this information. She was freaking out. Her pulse was escalating and the world seemed super-saturated with noise suddenly.
“I’m not gay, I mean I still have feelings for you. I still love you. I don’t even know why it happened…” he was flailing weakly in a pool of his own guilt, “It just did… and I couldn’t forgive myself. I never wanted to hurt you,”
He closed in for a hug but she recoiled backwards.
She had mental visions of Arthur locking lips with this nerdy guy she’d barely met. It was too much, it felt like the straw breaking the camel’s back.
He began crying and she was still freaking out. He kept trying to touch her and she kept backing away.
A flash of pain in her forehead made her flinch. It was followed by a strange tug and then she felt herself be wrenched from her body.
11:21 am 1st November 2015 [Redux]
With a dull thud, she felt herself reconnect with her body.
Her ears popped and began ringing. What the hell? Everything felt fuzzy, just slightly out of focus.
“-Bridget, I cheated on you…”
The world fell out of from under her feet all over again. Her eyes looked up and saw his face, it was contorted with anguish. What the hell?
“What?” she stammered. His handsome face melted into full blown guilt. Tears welled up in his eyes.
“I cheated on you…” he repeated.
She’d just rewound… What the hell? She’d not consciously rewound time and yet she was back here? Her mind raced to comprehend it. Was time rewinding itself?
“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” he sounded desperate. The conversation had looped back around. It was unfolding like it had seconds ago. “I got drunk and it just happened,”
