He nods.
‘And then I skip.’ I draw an arrow across the top of three of the blobs and then point to the next one along. ‘What happens to that Bethany?’
‘I don’t know.’ His voice is serious even though the question was basically rhetorical given I’m trying to explain my idea.
‘What if she shifts along. What if, to make space for me, all the other Bethanys have been shifted to an adjacent world? But the skips are tiny, the differences so small most of them don’t even notice.’
‘That would make sense.’
‘The Bethany in this world has been acting a bit odd recently. There was a thing with her shoes. Those shoes,’ I say, pointing to the Louboutins. ‘They’re patent. But last week she was convinced she chose the matt ones.’
‘Back up a sec,’ Tyler says and my heart drops. Is he about to pick holes in the only theory I’ve got? ‘What is patent?’
‘Oh. Shiny.’
‘Got it.’ He nods a few times. ‘Continue.’
Phew, that was his only question. ‘And there was a mix-up with a takeaway. So in this world this Bethany chose shiny shoes and has onion with her salad. But suddenly there’s a different Bethany here who chose the matt shoes and doesn’t have onion.’
‘Because of this displacement effect,’ he confirms.
‘Exactly.’
‘So, what does it mean? How does it help us to find you a way home?’ he asks.
‘I don’t know,’ I’m forced to admit.
But we need to figure it out quickly. The leap I don’t want to experience is looming closer and closer on the horizon.
Chapter Forty-Two
It’s dark. I swim against the current. A light glows in the distance. I don’t know if I can make it.
So tired.
Too tired.
I let the darkness take me.
Chapter Forty-Three
I wake up and this time it’s different. Properly different. Every single thing here is wrong. I can feel it.
An ache in my chest.
A rubbery mattress beneath me.
A bedside table made from wipe-clean plastic. He stares at me from a frame; dressed in a sharp grey suit, a white flower pinned to his lapel. That same haughty grin on his face he always wore, the one that told the world exactly what he thought of them. Not that anyone ever listened.
I shift my head slightly, bringing the rest of the photo into view. I’m wearing a tiara. An actual tiara covered in diamanté. And a white gown in an intricate lace. A bouquet of white and baby pink roses in one hand. The other clutching a glass of champagne so tightly my knuckles glow pale.
The darkness pulls me backwards again and I find myself falling, falling, falling.
Falling without ever hitting the ground.
Chapter Forty-Four
‘Mrs Ingram?’ The voice of a stranger whispers a strange name into my ear. ‘Mrs Ingram?’
