Now, as I make breakfast for the children, I pledge I will be more patient. At work, I will try to listen and learn. At home, I will be more empathetic to Sam, give him time to adapt. I will be a calm, composed, ethereal mother. There will be no swearing in front of the children. I will start saying, ‘Yes, my child,’ to all questions, like a nun in olden times.
‘You have a new message on the forum,’ says Felix excitedly, holding up my phone at the breakfast table.
‘Felix! Don’t look at that!’ I say, snatching it back, my ethereal, nun-like mothering lasting less than a minute.
‘Read it, read it!’
Opening the message cautiously, I check it’s nothing pornographic, then, once I’m sure it’s not, I show the message to Felix.
To: WishingFor26
From: Crock Pouch
There’s a depot under the arches at Battersea Bridge. Guy called Arcade Dave who restores all these vintage machines. Brown door next to the flower stall. If anyone knows about your wishing machine, he will. He’s off-grid, no phone, so you’d need to go down there. Tell him Crock Pouch sent you and he’ll be more amenable. He can be a bit of a funny fella. CP
Then beneath his sign off, there’s a quote: ‘I’m not a player, I’m a gamer.’
‘We have to go!’ says Felix. ‘It’s like a real-life quest, with passwords and everything. Let’s go now!’
‘We can’t go now, I have work, you have school.’
‘So?’
‘So we’re not skipping school to go to some random depot to meet a guy called “Arcade Dave”。’
Felix glares up at me, then turns his attention back to his cereal bowl, filling the air with disgruntled munching.
‘Sorry, Felix, I just have a lot of work to do. No one liked any of the ideas I pitched.’
‘Did you pitch helicopters and conger eels?’ he asks.
‘Surprisingly, yes.’ I sigh.
‘Did you tell them the conger eels would be in the helicopters?’ Felix asks.
‘Maybe that’s where I went wrong.’
‘What are you two plotting?’ Sam asks. He’s in a suit, on his way to a recording session in Reading.
‘Oh nothing,’ I say. Now that Sam and I are on firmer footing, I’m not sure I want to complicate matters by admitting that his son and I are secretly looking for a magical portal to send me back in time. ‘Felix is just helping me with ideas for work.’
‘No one’s come up with anything yet?’ he asks, making himself a coffee to go.
‘No. Despite everything, Michael’s still confident I can think of the right idea. But I’m not sure how much value I can add. There are too many gaps, too much I don’t know.’
‘There’s not a room you could be in and not add value,’ Sam says, and his sincerity makes me feel as though a tiny cheerleading squad has come out and done a pom-pom routine just for me. ‘Right, got to run. See you all later.’ Sam kisses me on the lips, then rushes out of the door. I watch him go through the kitchen window. Wow, this guy, no wonder I wished for him. He’s almost too good to be true.
‘Mummy? Mummy!’ Felix says behind me.
‘What? Oh, the depot, right. Look, I’ll try and find out more. If it’s a real thing, maybe I can go this weekend.’
‘With me?’
‘We’ll see,’ I say, beginning to regret going along with all this. Surely it can only end in disappointment. But is it me or Felix that I’m worried about disappointing?
‘Can I have more raisins?’ Felix asks.
‘You don’t even like raisins,’ I say, picking up the raisin jar from the sideboard and passing it to him. Then I stop still. How did I know Felix doesn’t like raisins? As I grip the table to get my balance, Felix shoots me a puzzled look.
‘No. I like them now, but only on cereal, not on their own.’ Felix pauses, watching me, then his eyes bulge as he realises what I’m saying. ‘You remember something from the in-between?’
‘Maybe, I don’t know,’ I say, rubbing my eyes.
‘What does it mean – if you start remembering stuff?’ Felix asks, flinging his hands in the air, his entire body a frantic jumble of animation. ‘If you came through a portal, you wouldn’t have those memories! Maybe the portal is closing? Maybe the raisins are a warning?’ He takes a dramatic breath. ‘Maybe—’
‘Forget it, it’s probably nothing, your dad must have mentioned the raisins. Come on, we need to leave for school in three minutes.’
Clearly, I should not have said anything to Felix. It’s hard enough to get everyone fed, dressed and out of the house as it is, without throwing in a casual debate about the rules of time travel.
Felix gets me thinking though and I’m distracted on the drive to school. If these memories are in there somewhere, does that mean that I didn’t jump here? Part of me is holding on to the idea that all this might be temporary. And while I doubt Arcade Dave holds the key to getting me home, I still believe I might simply wake up one morning back where I was. But it has been two weeks now, and if I genuinely do have amnesia, there will be no going back.
‘I’ll ask Molly what she thinks it means – you remembering about the raisins. She knows loads about time travel,’ says Felix. ‘Her dad writes science fiction, but he calls it science fact that hasn’t happened yet.’ He pauses, then says excitedly, ‘Maybe Molly and her dad could come with us to the depot?’
‘Felix!’ I say, exasperated. ‘I am not going to invite Molly and her dad to come on some random outing to find a man in London who may or may not know something about an ancient arcade game that may or may not have magical properties.’ I take a loud breath. ‘Can we please just get to school and discuss this later?’
Felix goes quiet, and we drive in silence for a minute.
‘I’ve lost my school library card. Can I look in your bag?’ he asks quietly.
‘Sure,’ I say, handing him my handbag from the front seat. ‘Look, I’m sorry for shouting. I know you’re only trying to help.’ Felix shrugs. ‘It’s just I really need to get my train today.’
At the school, Felix holds my eye in the rear-view mirror before unbuckling his seat belt. There’s a flash of something in his eyes – guilt. What would Felix have to feel guilty about? Maybe he hasn’t done his homework, or he’s fighting with a friend? Anything could be going on with him, and I wouldn’t even know to ask, I’m too consumed in my own drama. It’s not just my own life I’m going to need to catch up on, it’s the lives of everyone in this family. When I get back from work, I will make time, I will find the right questions to ask.
My morning at Badger TV is spent trawling through emails, trying to get to grips with a myriad of urgent things I’m apparently now responsible for. The pitch off itself is just one small cyclone in an endless storm. Michael tells me to delegate but even delegation feels beyond me. Everything requires a level of knowledge I just don’t have. My inbox is a torrent of tax code questions, building lease amendments, data protection registration, union petitions, staff training requests, a notification about the expiry of my Bamph retention agreement, commissioner meetings, budget meetings, shooting schedule meetings, pre-meetings, post-meetings, wrap-up meetings. How can one person need to be in quite so many meetings? There’s even a meeting scheduled to discuss meeting schedules. I’ve had to block out my diary with pretend meetings just to stop anyone from putting more meetings in.