SWITCHED: The man who lost his body but kept his mind.

by Bernard Gallivan

  As he headed towards the centre of Edinburgh, Zak could not rid his mind of Naomi and the difficulties she presented. He and Jeannie had always enjoyed an active sex life. In fact, she used to joke that having sex was just about the only exercise he took. But much as they both enjoyed sex, neither had gone so far as to stray into someone else’s arms - at least, he never had. Somehow, it never occurred to him that perhaps Jeannie might have; God knows she was attractive enough and he was well aware of the effect she had on most normal men. At the end of the day, it all came down to trust and he was positive he could trust his Jeannie. Another stab of anguish pierced his heart at the thought that he might never see her again.

  He parked his car in the centre of the city without difficulty and the first thing that struck him as he walked along was the absence of foreign-looking faces. In his home town of Croydon, the majority of the population were either black or Asian and the huge number of migrants who came to the Home Office Reception Centre there, from where they could apply for assistance, continually increased that statistic. Croydon seemed to be their ‘promised land’ where they found many of their countrymen and women already living, one reason why they never moved on.

  Another thing that surprised him was the complete absence of beggars. Thirty years earlier, it was unheard of for anyone to beg on the streets in Britain. But in Croydon, as in just about every other major city and town in Britain, beggars were now a serious public nuisance. If he had wanted to sell fruit legitimately from a hand cart in the middle of the High Street, he would have needed a Traders Licence. No such licence was needed for begging.

  The sight of Princes Street Gardens, with the Castle towering above, caused him to think of Jeannie once again; this time with a twinge of conscience. Why had he made all those excuses to avoid bringing her to this lovely city? Window shoppers walked slowly along the north side of the street and Zak was struck by their elegance. It put him in mind of the Spanish paseo he had heard about but had never actually observed. When he had gone to Spain as a young man it was for the sand, sea and sex. Absorbing traditional Spanish customs had never been high on his agenda.

  The early evening weather was as warm and as balmy as any Mediterranean evening and the good citizens of Edinburgh were enjoying the opportunity it gave them to copy their more southern neighbours. It was their intention to see as well as be seen. That was not Zak’s intention, however, and after buying a copy of the local evening newspaper, he went into a coffee house, ordered a cappuccino and sat down to find out more about his new home town.

  He knew little enough about the Edinburgh of his old dimension, so it was difficult for him to make comparisons. But one thing even he knew about Scotland was that it had been granted its own parliament some years earlier. The paper he read that evening carried no references to Scotland’s Parliament and the letters page mostly discussed arguments for and against the introduction of a new tram system. Turning to the middle pages in the newspaper, which were full of advertisements, he spotted a full-page advertisement for Galviston Ford, the agency he now owned. It gave him a pleasant feeling to see it and, yet again, he was amazed to see what good value the cars appeared to be. He would need time to adjust to the difference in the price of everything.

  He ambled slowly back to his car, thoroughly enjoying the ambience of Scotland’s capital. This was what a city should be like, he thought and with another half an hour to kill, he drove slowly around taking in the sights as he went. It seemed to him that the pace of live was less hectic and the good people of Edinburgh seemed more in control of their lives than were the people of Croydon in the other dimension. He saw no drunkenness or any outrageous behaviour on the streets in his travels and one and a half hour later, he pulled into his front drive for the second time that day.

  Before going in, he walked around the back of his house to check out his gardens. He did this, not because he had much interest in things horticultural, it was just that he feared his next encounter with Naomi and was prepared to do anything to put off the moment. At this early stage in his new life, he was determined not to mess about with the staff, tempting though that might be. In any case, before he did anything quite so foolish, he needed to find out what his relationship was with his wife. The evidence so far pointed to it not being very good and if that were the case, it might well work to his advantage. It would certainly go some way to resolving one of his biggest problems. Fleetingly, it crossed his mind to wonder if Jenny had returned while he was out.

  She had not so, while Naomi finished preparing supper, he took a shower and changed into something casual. Surrounded by luxury, he decided he like it. He even picked up his cast off clothes and put them tidily away; something he did not normally do. An unpleasant twinge of conscience made him remember how many times Jeannie had complained about his dirty, unpleasant ways. While she slaved away trying to keep their small, terraced house neat and tidy, he would leave clothes and cigarette butts littered about everywhere. Now, faced with such sanitised splendour, he carefully placed his used towel into the clothes basket provided and even carefully hung his suit in the wardrobe. The shirt he had worn that day he placed to one side to reuse the following day. It still looked perfectly clean to his uncritical eye.

  The supper proved to be an enormous steak that completely covered his plate. So large was it, it left no room for vegetables. These were served on a side plate. Since BSE and CJD had leapt to prominence, Jeannie and he had refrained from eating beef and he looked at the meat with misgivings. Noting his concern, Naomi asked if anything was wrong.

  ‘Have you never heard of BSE or CJD?’

  Naomi puckered her brow in concentration for a moment. As he waited for her response, he thought how pretty she looked. Finally, she shook her head.

  ‘I give in. What are they?’ She gave him a dimpled smile, obviously believing he was about to tell her a joke.

  Unable to remember precisely what the initials stood for he said, ‘BSE is a disease some cattle have and CJD is the human form of the disease. Are you sure you’ve never heard of them?’

  She looked uncertain for a moment when she thought that perhaps he might be serious. But the initials were so unusual it had to be a joke and she finally broke into another smile.

  ‘All right, I give in. What’s the answer? I hope it’s not rude though because you know how easily shocked I am.’

  He smiled at her. ‘The initials stand for bovine spongisomething or other and Croitsthing dubary do,’ he made up.

  Naomi shook her head uncertainly, not yet having spotted the punch line.

  ‘I don’t get it,’ she said, her brow furrowed.

  Zak chuckled as he picked up his knife and fork. ‘And let’s hope you never do,’ he said as he cut into the succulent meat.

  Shaking her head at the strange humour some men have, Naomi left him to his meal. Later, after bringing him a bowl of fresh strawberries and cream, followed by a pot of delicious coffee, Naomi asked to be excused. She went up to her room a confused and disappointed young lady, her evening completely spoilt.

  Left to himself, Zak went on a tour of inspection of his new domain and what he saw pleased him immensely. Slipping into the bedrooms he assumed must belong to his children, he sought information about their ages, their sex and their names. He quickly discovered that his oldest child was a girl aged sixteen. Her name was Rose, or Rosie and she was away at boarding school somewhere in Westmorland. The sight of that old name, so long replaced by Cumbria, filled him with nostalgia.

  His newly acquired son was two years younger. His name was Kenneth or Ken. He was also at boarding school, but in his case he was much nearer home in a school called Lorretto, located just outside Musselburgh, to the east of Edinburgh.

  Zak would have liked to spend time in his study on the top floor going through the papers he had seen there but because it was so close to Naomi’s bedroom, he decided it would be more prudent to give it a miss that first evening. Instead, he went into the sitting room whe
re he spent the next few hours reading a variety of newspapers and magazines he found there. All the while he was desperately trying to make sense of the world into which, so abruptly, he’d been catapulted. He found no mention of BSE or CJD. Indeed, the most serious national problem of the moment seemed to be that of education. It took him a while to realize what was different about the education system in his present dimension from the system in use in the dimension he had just left behind. In his old dimension, Harold Wilson had introduced comprehensive schools during his term of office and with all their many faults, they were now widespread throughout Britain. In his present dimension, someone called Shore had reversed those earlier plans when he became Prime Minister. Now, it seemed, certain educationalist were once again arguing against separating children by selection at the age of eleven and were agitating for a return to that previously rejected scheme. If they had their way, all pupils would attend a comprehensive school, which, they claimed, would provide better opportunities for slow starters. They also claimed that larger schools would be able to provide a much wider range of subjects, which, in turn, would provide greater opportunities for all.

  Zak remembered the same arguments being used all those years earlier when he was a boy. Not having children of his own however, the subject was of little interest to him. His brother, Pete, on the other hand, was deeply concerned with the education of his child especially since, on his university lecturer’s salary, he was unable to pay to have her educated privately. For better or worse, the state now controlled Pete’s daughter and he and his wife could only hope for the best.

  The article extolled the virtues of comprehensive education but nowhere was there any mention of the new problems the system could bring in its wake. Larger class sizes, increased truancy, more classroom disruption and more bullying received not a mention. The old system might not be perfect but what they were proposing to replace it with came with its own but different problems. Zak felt like a time traveller, allowed to observe but never to interfere.

  At eleven o’clock, he heard the sound of a car arriving in the front drive. His mouth went dry; his new wife had arrived home. The next few moments could prove decisive. Should he go to the door to welcome her in? Should he give her a kiss? How did they normally interact? Unanswerable questions flooded his mind. Eventually, he decided to stay where he was and pretend he had not heard her arrive. He would play it cagily until he saw the lie of the land.

  She didn’t ring. Instead, he heard the sound of her key in the lock and the sound of the door opening and closing again. He waited anxiously for her to come into the sitting room, but she didn’t. Instead, she went into the kitchen where he heard her fill a kettle with water. Accepting defeat, Zak got up and opened the door leading out into the hallway. He could see her back in the kitchen as she moved about doing something. She was taller and slimmer than Jeannie as well as being older but the colour of her hair was similar. At that moment she turned and saw him standing there but instead of a smile and a hello, she turned away again.

  ‘I’m just making myself a nightcap. Do you want one?’ There was no warmth in her invitation and he refused.

  The smile of greeting that had started on his face faded. This was nothing like the exuberant welcome he would have received from Jeannie. What was going on? He steeled himself and walked towards her.

  ‘How did the Bridge go?’

  As she turned to face him again, he could see she was an attractive woman who clearly paid attention to her appearance. She also looked younger than she must be; after all, their oldest child was sixteen years old. With his brain in overdrive, it took but a moment to absorb this preliminary piece of information but even as he spoke, he realized his friendly words were not welcome. A hard set claimed her mouth. Even her eyes were hard.

  ‘Why this sudden interest in my Bridge?’

  ‘Why shouldn’t I be interested?’ he said. Then, deciding to go for broke, he added, ‘You’re my wife, dammit. I’m interested in everything you do.’

  Jenny seemed momentarily taken aback by his little outburst.

  When she spoke again, her eyes remained hard but her voice was now full of suspicion. ‘What do you mean by that?’

  By now, Zak knew for certain that something serious was wrong between them and whatever it was must be the reason they slept in separate bedrooms.

  ‘Just that,’ he said cautiously. ‘I’m your husband and you’re my wife. We’re supposed to be interested in what the other does.’

  Jenny relaxed slightly. ‘Well I’m too tired to go into that now. We’ll have to discuss it some other time? In any case, don’t forget, Rose and Ken are coming home tomorrow so I want you on your best behaviour. And remember, we’re supposed to be one big happy family, right.’

  The news about his children came as a surprise. Was there to be no respite? But Jenny’s reply sounded ominous. Was the other Zak devoting too much time to his business to the exclusion of his wife? Or did Naomi, or other Naomis, have anything to do with it? He had no idea what was wrong and like a blind man he tried to feel his way forwards.

  ‘I’m sure that’ll be plain enough for our children to see. In any case, why shouldn’t we be?’

  Jenny seemed even more surprised by his reply but said nothing. He decided to press home his advantage.

  ‘I want us all to be happy with each other, luv. Just tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.’

  He was as startled by his outburst as Jenny clearly was and she looked at him with a mixture of surprise and suspicion. His relationship with Jeannie was very loving but he never said such things to her. Of course, they were so happy with each other, he never felt the need to say such things. Once again, he felt a twinge of conscience thinking about her. Had he taken her too much for granted? If he had, it had been very wrong of him because she deserved so much more. It was as if the successful man, who was his other self, and whose success seemed to permeate his present physical body, was somehow being melded with the thoughts and ideas of the softer, more downtrodden Zak. The result was a much more confident and mellow man than either man was. Already he could feel himself being influenced by the personality of the man who previously had owned his present body and this house; though not entirely.

  ‘Of course everything’s all right. I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Jenny finally said. ‘I told you, I’m just tired and I want to go to bed. Now, if you’ll excuse me, that’s precisely where I’m going. Good night’. With that, she pushed passed him, her nightcap forgotten.

  Making one last attempt to heal whatever rift existed between them, he called softly after her rapidly retreating back. ‘Things might not have worked out as we hoped they would, Jenny, but I’m determined things will be better from now on. I’ve changed, believe me,’

  He saw her stride falter but immediately it picked up again and, without a backwards look, she sailed imperiously up the staircase.

  Shrugging his shoulders in frustration, he walked slowly back to the sitting room where he sat deep in thought considering the best way to tackle the problem. Gradually, an audacious plan formed in his mind. What did he have to lose? He had no idea what was troubling Jenny but he could at least reassure her on one point; and providing that reassurance might prove to be wonderfully stimulating. It certainly would be no hardship! Jenny was a very attractive woman and to be presented with an opportunity to make love to such a woman, a total stranger as far as he was concerned, but with no unpleasant pangs of conscience to spoil the affair, was a chance rarely given to a man. It had never before been given to him, that much was certain.

  Returning to the kitchen, he put the kettle back on and while it boiled, he went up to his bedroom and changed into the pair of fine silk pyjamas he found laid out on his bed. Then, before returning to the kitchen to finish making Jenny’s nightcap, he went along to the bathroom to clean his teeth and comb his impressive mop of hair. Going down to the kitchen, he put her nightcap on a silver tray and took it up to her be
droom. A light still shone from beneath her door so he guessed she was still awake. Knocking gently he waited a moment before going in. Jenny was already in bed. She was reading.

  ‘I’m sorry I stopped you making your nightcap, Jenny, so I thought I’d bring it up to you,’ he said, amazed at his audacity. What possessed him to think he could barge into a strange woman’s bedroom like this?

  Jenny sat propped up by two large pillows with her abundant hair tumbled about her shoulders. There was then a wide gap to the top of her nightdress, which barely covered her full breasts.

  As he walked across to her bedside, he realized he should have worn a dressing gown. Jenny laid the book across her exposed flesh and eyed him cautiously as he placed the tray next to her, but she made no comment.

  He was flustered. What should he do next? This was all a ghastly mistake. It was a stupid idea to think he could burst in on a woman who had just gone to bed and make love to her.

  Dejectedly he said, ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’ll see you in the morning.’

  Suddenly she spoke. ‘Why do you keep calling me Jenny?’

  He stopped and turned to look at her. ‘What else should I call you?’

  ‘You’ve always called me Jen. Why this sudden change to Jenny? And why do you keep using that common word, “luv”, at the end of every sentence. What on earth’s got into you?’

  He thought quickly. ‘I told you. I’m a different man from the one who went down to Carlisle. You’d be amazed if you knew just how much I’ve changed and I want us to start afresh.’

  ‘What do you mean, start afresh. We’ve been married for the best part of six years. How can we start afresh?’