On a more personal level, Zak imagined the different environment in which his other self had grown up had inspired him to make a minor success of his life. In passing, he wondered, again, what had become of the one treasure he had in his other life, his wife, Jeannie. He still had no idea how long he would be marooned where he was but in case he suddenly found himself back where he started, he decided to try to discover what had become of her.
By the time he left the central library in Carlisle to begin his journey up to Edinburgh, his mind was reeling from the many facts he had tried to absorb. The closer he got to Edinburgh the more he began to wonder what sort of life awaited him there. Did he have a wife; if so, what was she like? How long would it be before she discovered he was not the same man? He would be surprised if she did not immediately see through him. How would she react when she realized he was not her husband? It was a meeting that could make or break his entry into this new dimension. It was fraught with danger but after succeeding with Bill Wragg, he decided he should at least make an attempt to take over where the other Zak had left off. Should he fail, he could always go back to Plan ‘B’. He was already well on the way back to Edinburgh when he realized he had not smoked a single cigarette all day and nor for that matter had he missed his daily flutter on the horses.
He might have enjoyed his drive up to Edinburgh if he had not been so worried by what was happening to him. His new Ford was a joy to drive and he travelled the M74 to Crawford and then the M75 to the outskirts of Scotland’s capital in comfort. He had never been to Scotland before and he enjoyed the experience. He knew that Edinburgh was supposed to be a particularly beautiful city and silently remonstrated with himself for not visiting it before. It was somewhere Jeannie had been keen to visit but he always found some excuse not to do so.
Once again, he began thinking fondly about Jeannie. She really was a wonderful woman. She was always happy and never complained, not even when he lost money gambling. He always told her she deserved better than him but she would kiss and cuddle him and tell him he was all she ever wanted. He really loved her, he thought wistfully. Suddenly, he felt a twinge of anxiety for her safety. From what he knew about Sinclair, the man was fully prepared to take his revenge on anyone who crossed him. He could only hope that when they failed to find him, Sinclair and his team of heavies would not take it out on Jeannie. That was when he thought about his other self. He, Zak present, might be safe but his other self was now in desperate danger, and it was a danger that was significantly greater for the other man since he would be totally ignorant of it until the police or Sinclair caught up with him. While he felt genuine concern for the other Zak it did not stop him feeling a great relief for himself. Helpless to do anything about the problem, he could only pray that Jeannie would be safe. As he drove on, he speculated what Sinclair would do when he finally caught up with the other Zak, as he was bound to do. If he killed or maimed the other Zak, would that impact in some way on his life here in this dimension. It was a worrying thought. Life had suddenly become very complicated.
Zak stopped on the outskirts of Edinburgh where he bought a street plan of the city. He also bought a packet of cigarettes and some matches. So anxious was he to have his first drag of the day, even before leaving the shop, he lit up. Zak the smoker was looking forward to this first cigarette and he took what he believed would be a deeply satisfying drag. Unfortunately, as the smoke entered the lungs of Zachary, the non-smoker, he choked and was almost sick. Indeed, so badly did the unaccustomed smoke affect him, he spent the next full minute coughing and retching by turns causing the shopkeeper considerable concern both for his customer as well as for his floor. When Zak eventually regained his composure, he did not dare finish the cigarette and, instead, stubbed it out.
Returning to his car, he spent a few minutes identifying where Barnton Avenue South was. He discovered it was on the outskirts of the city and was just a mile or so from the western end of the bypass. By that time, it was seven-thirty in the evening. He was a total stranger to the city as well as to everything else there, including his wife - if he had one - his home and his business. Understandably, he felt extremely nervous. He knew that the next hour was likely to be the most difficult he would encounter in his new environment. He could only pray that those he met would not be too hostile.
Number 4 Barnton Avenue South was the sort of house most people can only dream of owning. It was the house of a successful and wealthy man. He was surprised to note that it was completely unfenced and open plan and, in Zak’s opinion, was an invitation to any self-respecting burglar. Zak drove up to the triple garage at the end of the short drive and switched off the car’s engine.
Was this his home?
As he lifted his suitcase from the boot and moved towards the house, he became aware of an attractive, young woman standing in the doorway watching him. Zak had no idea who she might be. Was she his wife, daughter, lover, baby-sitter or what?
‘Hi, it’s lovely to see you back again, even if you are much later than we thought you’d be,’ she greeted him with a glowing smile. ‘Mrs Storie has gone out to play Bridge with her friends and she asked me to look after you.’ She spoke with a soft Scottish lilt.
At least Zak knew who she wasn’t, but whether she was the maid or perhaps the baby sitter, he still had no idea. He was most definitely concerned by the way she looked at him when she spoke. Her manner seemed so familiar it occurred to him that his other self might well have been having an affair with her, whoever she was. Although Zak was not blind to the temptation, one thing was certain, this was definitely not the moment to make a snap decision. He would have to be extremely careful and on his guard from now on.
‘You must be feeling tired,’ she said in reply to his nod and muttered words of greeting. ‘Shall I run the Jacuzzi for you or would you like a drink first?’
‘I think I’ll settle for the drink and then I’ll grab something to eat, if that’s all right with you, luv.’
She looked surprised and he wondered whether there was also a hint of disappointment in the look she threw his way as she stood aside to let him enter.
‘Shall I bring your drink up to the bedroom or would you prefer to have it down in the sitting room?’ Her tone registered a slight irritation which Zak did his best to ignore.
‘Don’t bother to bring it up, luv. I’ll come down for it after I’ve unpacked. I won’t be long.’ Had he been too abrupt with his first reply, he wondered?
He was acutely aware that he knew nothing about the girl’s status in the family and was anxious to do some exploring before his wife returned. Perhaps there would be photographs and other clues to his new past life. He needed all the help he could get. Smiling and nodding at the girl he began climbing the stairs. He half expected her to stop him and to ask him where he thought he was going since his bedroom was in a different part of the house, but she didn’t. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her looking silently after him. At the top of the stair he turned back to see if she was still there, but she had disappeared. He hoped she would leave him alone for the next ten minutes while he tried to get his bearings.
A luxurious carpet muffled his steps as he hurried along the top hall going from door to door trying to identify what each room was. One large room was set out as a drawing room; there were also two large en-suite bedrooms and another two bedrooms that shared a family bathroom. At the far end of the hall, another flight of stairs led up to a third floor where he found another small sitting room, yet another bedroom, a bathroom, a study and an enormous box-room. Taking a chance, Zak nipped into the bedroom and tiptoed over to the small dressing table. On it were two opened envelopes; one contained a bill and the other a letter. Hoping he was not adding two and two together and making five, Zak noted the name on all four items. It seemed that his maid, if that was what she was, was called Naomi MacAlise and the letter was from her parents on the Isle of Mull. Leaving Naomi’s bedroom he hurried next door into the study.
Here he sa
w bills and other correspondence addressed to him. Clearly, this little bolt hole was his very own so, at last, he could relax. A computer sat on the desk and he wondered if he would ever be able to make it work. In his dimension, people protected their computers and the information they contained with passwords. Without the correct password, he would be unable to access what might be vitally important information. It was yet another worrying thought. He had time only for a quick rummage through the papers piled there but nothing was of immediate help to him and he returned to the floor below.
When he had first looked in the two double bedrooms he had done no more than note their existence. Now he had to decide which of them he shared with his wife. Naomi must be wondering what he was up to but, what the hell; it was his house, wasn’t it? As quickly and as silently as he could he went into the larger of the two bedrooms. This one looked out onto a splendid lawn to the rear of the house but when he opened the wardrobes they were full of female attire. There was no sign whatsoever of a male presence. The second en-suite bedroom was on the side of the house and its wardrobes were almost empty. Zak assumed this bedroom was the guest bedroom. It was at his third try that he found what he guessed must be his bedroom. It was a small though pleasant enough room looking out to the front of the house, and to further confirm his suspicions, the signs of a male presence were everywhere. Unable to put off the moment any longer, he threw his case and coat onto the bed and started back down to where Naomi was waiting for him. As he passed, he looked into the other two bedrooms. From the wall decorations, the toys and the many other belongings he found there, he realized they must belong to his newly acquired children. He wondered where they might be and what he would say to them when they eventually met up.
Life was about to change for him, big time.
Chapter 5
Zachary
With only an occasional street light to illuminate his way, Zachary was near the end of the road when, behind him, his car exploded into a ball of fire with a dull thud. That was the petrol tank going off, he guessed. By the time he turned to admire his handiwork, the fire was already a fierce, all-consuming blaze. There would be little left for the police to identify once it stopped burning - if they even bothered to look. He had decided how best to rid himself of what had become a dangerous possession while driving around one of the poorer areas in the city. That was when he noticed a few wrecked and burnt-out cars littering some open areas. Coming from such a well-ordered dimension, it was sad and depressing to see the lack of care and feelings of pride some residents had for their lovely city. But what was unpleasant for the vast majority of residents living in those depressed areas, on this occasion provided him with an opportunity to rid himself of a potentially incriminating heap of junk. He hoped his contribution to Edinburgh’s litter problem would not attract too much attention. Satisfied with the success of his handiwork, he turned his back on the blaze and continued walking towards the centre.
Earlier in the day, using an assumed name, he had booked a room in a Travel Lodge located right in the heart of the city and was now returning there for some much needed sleep. He had selected the Travel Lodge rather than a cheaper, family-run bed and breakfast establishment, because he did not want to attract attention when he left the following day. By that time, it was his intention to look completely different from the man who had arrived. In a B&B, even a less than eagle-eyed landlady was certain to notice that the person sitting down for breakfast looked nothing like the person who had signed in the previous evening. He hoped that in the Travel Lodge, someone else, or even no one at all, would be on duty at the reception desk when he left the following day. Over his shoulder he carried a holdall containing all his worldly possessions or, at any rate, all those he was presently aware of owning; these included the various purchases he had made earlier in the day.
The hotel receptionist had wanted cash in advance when he checked in, which had knocked a further considerable hole in his rapidly diminishing money supply but his room was plainly but tastefully furnished and, most importantly, it had its own bathroom. Stripping down to his boxer shorts, he took another good look at himself in the full-length mirror and almost cried with frustration at the sight. All those years of hard work were gone in the blink of an eye. Looking at what he now was, he could not imagine how such an out-of-shape tub of lard could ever again be the fit, youthful-looking person he once was. Instead of his fine head of hair, all that remained were a few straggly wisps. If he had looked bad when he first contemplated his new image now, after a freezing night in the back of his car together with all the shocking discoveries that had emerged during the day, he looked considerably worse. The tattoo made him shudder with embarrassment and there were bags of tiredness under his eyes. What sort of person was he in this new dimension? As he contemplated his image, he could well believe he was wanted by the police for murder and embezzlement, and that he was on the run from a gang of thugs.
Steeling himself for the task before him, he took out his electric razor, and using the beard trimming attachment, he set about removing the straggling excuses for hair perched on top of his head. That done he stood back to re-examine himself. Already he could see an improvement. Next, he picked up the first of his purchases, a strong black hair dye, and began reading the instructions.
After dying his hair, he concentrated his attention, as well as the fake tanning oil he had purchased, on his face, hands and lower arms. These became a rich brown colour while those parts of his body he could reach but would be out of sight had a more olive appearance. His back, the most inaccessible place, remained an unhealthy-looking off-pink. An hour later, after using up a quarter of the hair dye and a complete bottle of skin tanning oil, where a fair-haired, fair-complexioned man once was, a dark-haired, dark-skinned man now looked back from the mirror. He would be the first to admit that, naked, he looked most unusual, but he hoped that when his clothes hid the differences in tanning levels, he would look more normal. He was intrigued to discover that the very act of dying his hair black made it appear more abundant. Depressingly, he realized it would never again be luxuriant and nor would his much abused body ever again be the lean machine of the previous day. With a sigh of exhaustion, he decided the changes were as far as he could go without rest. In the short term, there was no disguising the podgy face or the flabby body, but if he went on a strict diet and began taking regular exercise, perhaps he could make a few improvements.
He was, by now, acutely aware that his other self was a smoker. The smell of stale smoke on all his belongings as well as the nicotine stains on his fingers were sufficient testimony to that, even without the bodily cravings he’d been experiencing all day. But this Zachary was made of far sterner stuff than the other man and was determined not to give in to the habit. He was in enough trouble without having the threat of lung cancer hanging over his head - if he had not developed it already.
After ringing his new wife in London, he had gone to the local library to read about the crime he was supposed to have committed. Without specifically naming him, the papers all made him out to be some sort of monster who preyed on vulnerable old people. How on earth Houndsworth, or that copper in Edinburgh Houndsworth had rung, had not connected their amnesia victim with the man wanted for questioning for a double homicide down south was quite beyond him. He could only be thankful for small mercies.
According to the more lurid of the newspapers, hanging was too good for him. It was also very disturbing not knowing for certain if he now occupied the body of a murdering monster who had lied to his wife to conceal his crime. He prayed someone had stitched him up for something he hadn’t done and hoped the police would eventually discover the identity of the real culprit. That would then leave only the less important matter of embezzlement to resolve.
With fewer and less difficult problems to deal with, he might have lain awake all night grappling with them; but worrying about his quite hideous situation in his present exhausted state would do no good whatsoever. What he
needed was plenty of sleep and a completely fresh mind to address his problems. Lying in his deliciously comfortable bed, feeling waves of exhaustion wash over him, his last thoughts before he slept were of his new wife. He still had no idea what her name was or what she looked like but he liked the sound of her voice, strange though the accent was to a brain so accustomed to the Scottish burr. He would give her another ring tomorrow he decided.
The following morning, feeling much refreshed, Zachary attempted to reassess his predicament while he ate his breakfast. As well as buying the hair dye and the tanning lotion, he had also splashed out on a new shirt and some cheap denim jacket and jeans and now looked anonymous enough to attract little attention. His old jacket and trousers he stuffed into his holdall. He would get them cleaned and freshened up once he found a more permanent place to stay.
When he had first looked at the money in his wallet, he believed he easily had enough to last a few weeks but everything was so expensive, it was disappearing at an alarming rate. When he examined his credit cards he realized that the one he had used to open the office window at The Trusty Motel had been damaged beyond repair and was now useless. This did not worry him over much since the police were bound to check his use of credit cards. He had also found a charge card in his wallet but until he knew his PIN it, too, was no use to him, either. Perhaps his wife knew it. He would ask when he spoke to her later in the day.
At some time during the night, Zachary had come to a decision. Regardless of what his other self might or might not have done, since he, personally, was entirely innocent of any crime, he had no intention either of going to jail or of being beaten to a pulp by a bunch of prehistoric louts for debts and crimes that were not his. He hoped the charge of murder was incorrect but even if it proved to be true, he still would not give himself up. That said, he knew that the cosmetic changes he had made to his appearance were only ever likely to give him a little breathing space. What seemed more likely was, if he really were innocent of the murders, it was up to him to prove it while also clearing his debts. Even then, the law would only be satisfied when he had paid the penalty for embezzlement. The newspaper article claimed the amount stolen from the murdered couple was £10,000, a sizeable sum of money to pay back, particularly when he had nothing, not even an identity. Then there was the debt he owed to that Sinclair fellow. He really was in a mess.
SWITCHED: The man who lost his body but kept his mind. Page 9
