In Bed With Lord Byron

light slanting through lattice-patterned windows on to a large oak table strewn with a happy
paraphernalia of magazines, newspapers, bills and recipes. A golden retriever lay in a basket, thumping his tail; at the sight of me he gave a little bark. I felt a glow of happiness inside. Is
this where I live in the future? I wondered. This is the house I own? With this view from the window into a back garden that looks like Eden, flowers wafting clouds of scents? Wow. Maybe I do have
some good karma after all.
    Then, suddenly, I heard a voice in the hallway. I looked around nervously. Where to hide, where to hide?
    ‘Anthony?’ the voice was calling in the distance. ‘Anthony?’
    I dived under the oak table, hiding beneath a hem of lacy tablecloth. I watched a pair of legs stride into the kitchen: tanned legs in red stilettos. Immediately my heart sank. So I’d put
on a bit of weight. So my fast metabolism had started to slow down. That was a bugger. I’d have to throw away all my chocolate the moment I got home.
    Then another person entered the kitchen: I saw shiny black shoes and black trousers. The black shoes walked up to the red stilettos. A suck of pleasure as they exchanged kisses.
    ‘Come on, honey, we should get going,’ said the man’s voice. Anthony. I squinted nervously through the lace. When I saw him, my heart opened like a flower in the sun. Yes, he
had a slight double chin, and that vein that protruded in his forehead had now slashed into a fork of stress, and those gentle lines fanning his mouth and eyes were now deep-rooted. But he had a
new edge to him I hadn’t seen before. He was stronger than ever. He had become a man.
    ‘I’m tired, I don’t know if I feel like going tonight . . . Oh well, I guess we should.’
    Hang on.
That
wasn’t my voice.
    Oh God.
    Oh no.
    Kerry.
    He was meant to marry Kerry.
    I couldn’t believe it. Why the hell had I decided to come and find this out? Ignorance is bliss; it would have been better not to know.
    Anthony and Kerry left the kitchen and went down the hallway. I emerged from under the table blinking back tears, my heart dull. Suddenly I heard Kerry’s voice in the hallway. ‘Oh
shit, I forgot to lock the back door.’
    I was about to dive under the table again when suddenly the dog leapt up and barked at me rather savagely. The footsteps were getting closer and closer and I panicked. I flung open the back door
and ran outside into the garden, diving under the shelter of a bush.
    ‘Jesus – we even left it open.’ I heard Kerry’s voice floating out. ‘I can’t believe it, it’s a miracle we don’t get burgled . . .’
    Her key scraped in the lock. I listened to the sound of the car engine revving up, thrumming louder, then fading away. Then I realised:
fuck.
    Now the kitchen door was locked. Which meant I couldn’t get back to the original place where the time machine had flung me out. Which meant I was bloody well stuck out here for goodness
knows how long while Anthony and Kerry were having the time of their lives.
    Nice one, Lucy.
    I crumpled under the bush. I just couldn’t accept what I had seen. How could he have ended up with Kerry –
how
?
    The chill began to prick my skin. I slunk out and went up to the kitchen window, standing on tiptoe to glance in. I wondered if I should grab a stone and smash the glass.
    Then I jumped as a female entered the kitchen.
Great
, I wailed inwardly,
now Anthony and Kerry have a daughter
. . .
    No. Wait. She was much too old to be their daughter. Actually, she looked very familiar . . .
    And then a man entered.
Anthony.
Yes – Anthony! He came up behind the woman and kissed her neck lovingly. She swung round and kissed him hard on the lips. Oh God, surely Anthony
wasn’t having an affair? What excuse had he made to Kerry? Goodness, how awful . . .
    Then the woman glanced out through the window and I twigged. I was so shocked that I lost my balance and went careering back, stumbling into the grass. I lay there watching the clouds chase each
other across the sky, utterly dazed.
    The woman had been
me
. So Anthony was having an affair with me . . . ?
    But hang on – when I’d glanced in, the kitchen had looked different. It had been a lot more messy, the sink piled high with plates. And the dog had disappeared. Could it be . . .
?
    Could it be that I was seeing an alternative future? Different realities?
    The time machine was teasing me. It was telling me that the future was fluid.