MINDSLIP

4 Understanding

Geoff discovers his new identity

With a steaming mug of tea, I returned to the lounge, picked up the Cosmopolitan and read the name and address label.

Miss Suzy Yamata

147a Ladbroke Road

Notting Hill

London

W11 3BY

Hmm, odd. I wasn't wearing spectacles. I couldn't normally read without my glasses.

The purse contents confirmed the name. Her Visa and Mastercard both showed Ms Suzy Yamata.

The purse held seventy-five pounds in notes and a few pounds of mixed change plus some keys. A photo-booth snapshot of the young man from the bookcase portrait, together with my new incarnation, was in one of the folders. He must be her fiancé.

Her driving licence informed me I was now a twenty-four-year-old single woman instead of a thirty-six-year-old married man. Twenty-four? I didn't look twenty-four. Japanese girls must look younger than Europeans.

I switched on the Skybox and an episode of Friends burst into life on the screen. One of those Golden Oldie channels. I hit 501 for Sky News.

Strange. A blank screen. Nothing being broadcast. What about BBC? I tapped in 101.

Nothing. I flicked through several other channels. Live channels were blank-screened, but the entertainment channels were running shows. Must be automated programmed transmissions. Whatever was happening must be widespread.

Had the radiation from the supernova sparked a nuclear war or some other catastrophe? The instant the thought struck me, a massive explosion took place outside and the bay window cracked. I dived under the dining table for cover.

When no debris materialised, I cautiously emerged. The window was intact but with a split running diagonally across the main pane. Outside, smoke and flames were rising from several streets away, behind the houses opposite. Where the hell were my shoes? Of course, her shoes were my shoes now. I slid my feet into the flatter of the two pairs in the hall. They fitted. Taking care to put the snib up on the lock, so I wouldn't be shut out of the flat, I ran outside. Screams and shouts could be heard in the distance.

The fireball, a few streets away, was causing a huge plume of smoke, and debris was fluttering down around me. I plucked at some falling paper. It was from a budget airline magazine. Good God! The explosion was a plane crash!

There was nothing I could do to help either the passengers or those screaming a few streets away. I decided to return to Suzy's flat, turned and bumped into a middle-aged man who was standing watching the ticker tape falling around us.

'Sorry,' I said.

He seemed agitated. 'What's happening, miss?'

'There's been an air crash.'

'Yes, but what's happening to me? Why am I like this, miss?'

'Like what?'

'I'm an old man, miss.'

He was about forty. Hardly old. He wore blue jeans, trainers, and a black sweatshirt.

'How old should you be?'

'Eleven. I've just entered the big school, miss.'

'Are you a girl?'

'Don't be silly, miss. I'm a boy.'