It had been a bad decision – a very bad decision – and it was all Sarah's fault.
It was Sarah who was the academic, the intellectual in the family.
It was Sarah who was heavily into all this weird intellectual debating stuff.
It was Sarah who had insisted that Jennifer could simply not afford to miss this Philosophy course; it was a once in a lifetime chance.
It was all Sarah's fault that Jennifer was now spending her Thursday evening sat in the second row of the lecture room at Warwick University listening to self-opinionated intelligentsia tearing weird hypothetical concepts to pieces for fun.
It had all started off quite mildly with 'Cogito Ergo Sum', which Jennifer, in full compromise mode, had found herself agreeing with in principle because surely it could never be possible to think something if you did not exist in the first place. But when a counter argument was introduced, that a disembodied brain could conceptualise existence without the constraints of a corporeal body, she began to mentally search her handbag for some instrument sharp enough to open a vein.
This was closely followed by an intense discussion on whether a tree falling in a forest would make a noise if there was no one there to hear it and then there was serious concern expressed for the welfare of Schrödinger's cat.
Even the coffee break had failed to provide a welcome relief, because the topic of heated discussion around the large table was the existence of parallel universes, at which point Jennifer switched off completely, staring miserably out of the window at the shadowy outlines of the University buildings in the moonlight, but she did prick up her ears when the discussion switched to something a little closer to her own heart: the matter of free will. Were we free to make our own decisions or were all of our actions pre-ordained from birth.
Jennifer was confident that she would settle on the side of free will; she felt that she was most definitely mistress of her own destiny. But, she wondered miserably, how much free will had she exercised when Sarah had pleaded with her to join this class?
That night she lay awake for hours trying to work out whether she truly did have the free will to make her own decisions or whether everything she said and did was genuinely as a result of some insidious outside influence. She also began to wonder whether the opposite could also be true and what impact her own decisions might be having on those around her? With those heavy thoughts racing unconstrained through her mind she eventually fell into a deep but troubled sleep, populated with bizarre Alice in Wonderland images of her negotiating a narrow path through the dark forest, with the only assistance being from signs that said, 'This Way', 'That Way', 'Wrong Way' . . .
She kept a low profile for the next few days, ignoring the ringing telephone, only ever daring to pick it up when the answer-phone had first confirmed that it was not Sarah on the line and she only managed to relax a little when next Thursday had come and gone without further contact. Her sister had obviously got the message and was not going to ask her again.
The following day she was halfway down the second coffee of the morning when she came to the conclusion that something had to change. The person she had allowed herself to become was condemned to remain terminally single unless she made some significant changes to her life. She wandered through her tired little flat examining her tired little world. She riffling through the tired little clothes crammed onto the narrow rail in her tired little wardrobe. She took a long hard look at the sad and tired little reflection which gazed back at her from the mirror and she made a decision.
Today was going to be the first day of her new life!
She started by clearing the spare room of nostalgic junk, filling two large boxes with childhood toys and stuff which she could 'never bear to part with' and were taking up so much room. They were going to the Charity Shop right now. She carried them down to her battered Fiesta and dropped one in the boot and the other on the back seat.
As she was walking back up the path she could hear the phone ringing. She ran inside, but before she could answer it Sarah's voice came over the answer phone, 'Pick up, Jenny . . . please pick up.' There was an edge to her tone which was quite alarming. Sarah was usually so brash and confident, but this voice sounded so cowed and crushed.
She picked up.
'Sarah, what on earth is the matter? You sound terrible.'
There was silence for a few moments and then she said, 'Brian's hit me.'
Sarah started to cry.
She began to piece together the events of last evening: the disagreement over her psychology course; his jealousy over the time she was spending with two particular lads in the class who she knew from her University days; the blazing row which had culminated in the slap across the face, a blow hard enough to send her reeling back against the washing machine. Then he had stormed out to the pub.
Jennifer had always liked Brian; he was good fun when he was sober and he was the life and soul of the party when he had had a drink, but never in her wildest dreams would she have believed that he could ever be violent. She told Sarah to hang up and that she would be over right away.
On the kitchen worktop stood an unopened bottle of Merlot and she reached out for it – it had sounded as if Sarah could use a drink at the moment . . . but then a tiny voice within her pointed out that Sarah had never once brought a bottle when she came here, so why shouldn't the new Jennifer be just the same. She released the bottle and left it there for her to enjoy all by herself tonight – a good decision!
As the car sped through the centre of town she was feeling rather pleased with herself; she was finally taking control of her life. This was how good life could be when you made the right decisions.
In her distracted state she did not see it coming; a blur across her peripheral vision and then the dog was in front of her. A honey coloured Labrador was racing across the High Street. She slammed on her brakes and the car stood on its nose. The white van behind was closing fast, its brakes screaming in desperation. Jennifer swerved to the left and shut her eyes.
When she opened them again the Fiesta had stopped, the dog was gone and the van behind was looming very large in her mirror the thickness of a single layer of paint from her bumper. The van driver was hurling abuse at her through his open window, but the newly empowered Jennifer waved him a single fingered salute and drove happily away.
Sarah could hardly believe the unrelenting whirlwind that confronted her. Jennifer was not prepared for compromise; she gave her both barrels, the gist of which was that Brian was a waste of space and that he should be told it was 'One strike and you're out!' When she eventually left there was a list of divorce lawyers and their telephone numbers on the coffee table for her to choose from.
As she drove away the new Jennifer was delighted. She was going from strength to strength. She was totally in control of her life and she loved every moment. She squeezed into a parking space right outside the Charity Shop and carted the two boxes inside, dumping them unceremoniously beside the counter. But as the elderly assistant carried the boxes through to the back room she felt a brief twinge of regret. Her most treasured, precious memories were being transported through the veil and into another world. She would never see them again . . . ever.
The Jennifer who sat back in the driver's seat was far less self assured. Had she made a bad decision?
. . .
In a parallel universe, a parallel Jennifer put down the phone to a distraught Sarah. She would have to do the Charity Shop on the way back, right now her sister needed her. She spotted the bottle of Merlot on the work surface and grabbed it. The way she sounded, Sarah could certainly use a drink. She threw the bottle on the passenger seat and snapped on her seat belt.
As the car sped through the centre of town she was feeling rather pleased with herself; she was finally taking control of her life. This was how good life could be when you made the right decisions.
In her distracted state she did not see it coming; a blur across her peripheral vision and then the dog was in front of her. A honey coloured Labrador was racing across the High Street. She slammed on her brakes and the car stood on its nose. The bottle of Merlot sprang forwards off the passenger seat and struck the dashboard. The sudden movement took her attention and she did not have time to swerve. The car stopped with a sickening thump. Jennifer shut her eyes.
When she opened them again the dog was laying motionless in front of the car and the van behind was looming very large in her mirror, the thickness of a single layer of paint from her bumper. The van driver was hurling abuse at her through his open window, but the newly empowered Jennifer ignored him completely and flew out of the car. Once the van driver could see the reason for her sudden and almost disastrous emergency stop, he completely forgot his anger and helped her to check the dog over. Fortunately there did not appear to be anything broken, but it was clear that the poor animal was quite badly shaken up, so white van man helped her to lift it up onto the back seat of the Fiesta and she headed off for the address on the collar tag.
The parallel Sarah waited in vain for Jennifer to arrive and finally, deprived of the benefit of her sister's aggressive over-reaction, Sarah made a good decision all by herself. She rang Brian and told him three things:
1. That on the way home from work he will register with Alcoholics Anonymous,
2. That if he ever laid a finger on her again he would be eating hospital food for the rest of his short and miserable life and . . .
3. That she loved him far too much to lose him.
The parallel Jennifer drove slowly along Orchard Avenue looking for no. 18. The house was small but neat and a small blond haired girl in a bright red flouncy dress was bouncing enthusiastically on a trampoline in the front garden while her father sat on the doorstep reading a newspaper. When Jennifer opened the rear door the Labrador exploded from the car and leapt onto the man's lap completely destroying his paper. While she was attempting to apologise for the accident, the girl was busy liberating a one eyed teddy bear from the box on the back seat. She ran excitedly across the grass clutching the teddy to her chest shouting, 'Daddy! Daddy! Can I keep the teddy, Daddy?'
Richard was shocked. 'No, kitten, you can't take that, it belongs to the nice lady.'
Jennifer, anxious to make amends for her near terminal carelessness, said, 'Take it, sweetheart, I was only taking it to the Charity Shop. If there's anything else in there you want . . .'
The girl sprinted off. Richard said, 'Bless you. All her toys are at her mother's, she doesn't have many here with me.'
Jennifer looked back at the small girl excitedly rummaging through the boxes. 'She can keep the lot if you like. You can always dump what she doesn't want.'
Together they carried the boxes into the house with a heavily laden child following close behind. As she turned to leave Richard smiled shyly at her. 'Would you like a cup of tea?'
Parallel Jennifer made a good decision.