The lorry rumbled along the motorway, the driver hummed along with a tune she’d just learned from the local radio station that as cracking away in the cab.
“Still always amazes me how crude the broadcasting systems on this planet are,” she said, “most civilisations of this level of evolution have at least got hypersonic noise cancelling systems.”
Fenchurch mumbled a non-committal reply. She was studying the landscape around her, which was very familiar but she thought, oddly different.
Since leaving Morthern, she had made several space trips in an attempt to flip across into whatever universe Arthur was in but had not succeeded and now felt an odd compulsion to go back to Earth.
She thought she should say goodbye to Russell in case she never came back. Even though they never got on that well he was still her brother and her only living relative and she would miss him. She also thought it would be a good idea to leave a message for Arthur just in case he had somehow managed to get back to this thread and was looking for her.
Initially she had had problems finding the place. The entry in her copy of the Hitchhikers Guide read only “harmless” and gave no spatial co-ordinates.
“Harmless! What was that supposed to mean?” she thought.
Arthur’s copy of the guide had pages of description of Earth, all written by that infuriating Ford Prefect. Perhaps this was an older version?
Eventually she hitched a lift with strange little woman who was going to earth to sell Elevarian Jewellery to the Earth people. Eleveria is a planet of chameleoid lifeforms who can transform themselves at will and can also transform objects and materials in their vast shape-shifter factories.
Purinia, the woman, had a neat little trade going whereby she transformed ordinary cheap ores into replicas of the gold jewellery that the people of Earth valued so highly and would pay vast amounts of paper bills for. With these bills she could buy huge quantities of salt, which was one of the most treasured minerals on Elevaria as it could be transformed into virtually anything.
Fenchurch had studied the jewellery when Purinia had shown her it and it had made her chuckle. She recognised it as being the type sold by a well-known high street chain. She wondered if they knew that their wholesaler was from another world. If they did know would they even care? Probably not, as long as they were making a fast buck.
When they had landed, Purinia had stripped away the outer shell of her spacescraft and it was now a fair representation of an articulated lorry. They then started their journey towards the small West Country village where Arthur had lived. Fenchurch had arranged that Purinia would pick her up again in two days time before she headed home. She knew how infrequently spaceships visited this part of the galaxy and didn’t want to get stuck.
“Here it is, next exit,” she said as she saw a sign.
“ Cottington, 1 mile” the sign read.
Underneath, Fenchurch was puzzled to notice, it said “Cottington Services” with that funny little array of symbols that no-one ever understands.
She didn’t remember that being there.
She grabbed her rucksack and jumped down from the cab, thanking Purinia warmly. As she pulled away she could hear her singing along enthusiastically to the “crude broadcasting system”.
She strolled along the side of the road, breathing in the cool, earth air. She had found that, even on planets with oxygen in their atmosphere or those with an artificial environment, it always seemed a lot warmer and stickier than Earth air. She took long, deep breaths to enjoy it.
A moment later an old transit van spluttered by, belching out noxious fumes. It paused momentarily, let out a flatulent backfire and trundled on its way. The fumes made Fenchurch cough violently. Some things she didn’t miss about Earth.
Come to think of it, this road was a lot busier than she remembered. It also seemed to have been widened and resurfaced since she had last been there.
A little further along she spotted a little farm track that she knew would take her to Arthur’s house without having to go into the village. She didn’t want to run the risk of bumping into any of Arthur’s friends and to have to explain where he was. She didn’t think Arthur’s California trick would work again, if it ever had.
At last she came round the end of the hedgerow, expecting to see Arthur’s little house with its odd arrangement of windows. Instead she was confronted by a sign that said “ Cottington Traveller’s Inn and Fitzmelton Arms Pub, all rooms £----, en—suite facilities, telephone and TV.”
She stood, stunned. She scanned about to check her surroundings. She was sure this was the right place.
Still in a daze, she went into the reception area.
“Hello, my love,” said the middle aged woman behind the desk. She had hair that had been dyed the most unlikely shade of reddish brown but her roots were showing through grey. She also had on the most amazing amount of make-up that looked more suitable for a pantomime than her current employment. “You look like you’ve come a long way. You want a room?”
“What? Oh, no, I’m just looking for a house.” She gave the address.
“Oh, no, dear,” said the woman, “that was knocked a couple of years ago. To make way for the bypass, you see. Only they decided to re-route it further over that way.” She pointed towards the way Fenchurch had just come, “So the service area was built here instead.”
Fenchurch stood, eyes agog, mouth open.
“You sure you don’t want a room?” interrupted the woman after a little while.
“Hmm… Yes, I supposed I better,” replied Fenchurch, still stunned. She opened her rucksack and fished about in her purse. She had no Earth money and she didn’t suppose they would take Altarian dollars. She pulled out the credit card with the longest expiry date. Despite that fact that she had not paid the bill on it for want she guessed must be years, the machine accepted it without a hiccup.
She went to the room. It was simple but comfortable and, to Fenchurch, who had been sleeping in some very odd places, it was as good as a palace. She ran a bath. She boiled the kettle and made some tea. After several attempts to open the small plastic pots of milk she had something that was better than the Nutrimatic liquid but only just.
She lay back and soaked in the bath. The quick burst of TV she had watched while the bath was running was enough to tell her that it was about a year since she and Arthur had left the planet. The information booklet in the room, however, told her that the Hotel had been there for longer than that. It had been built before she had even met Arthur.
She knew now what she had suspected before. This was a different universe to her own. It was she who had jumped, not Arthur.
In the morning she ate the most delicious English cooked breakfast she had ever tasted. Or, at least, it seemed that way. The sausage, the bacon, even the overcooked tomatoes were wonderful after the months of dried spacefood. She felt much better. She even smiled at Ms Mutton-dressed-as-lamb as she went back to her room.
She decided she would stick to her plan and go and see Russell. Even if this was not her world, maybe he would still be in it and it would be nice to see him, annoying though he was.
She hitched a lift to the small suburban enclave where he lived. It was strange how easy she found hitching on earth after having done it all around the galaxy. The wait between cars and lorries was miniscule compared to the wait for a spaceship.
The housing estate or “Executive Development” was there and it was just as she remembered it was when he first bought it. She had though that he was crazy buying a big, family house when he had no family but he said it was “an investment” and he was probably right.
The houses were typical of those built at that time in that they were in a style that tried to pretend they were much, much older than they actually were. Somehow, she didn’t think they would have had need for garages to house their BMWs, SAABs and Mercedes’ in Shakespeare’s time.
The neatly manicured lawns, the neatly pointed brickwork, the burglar alarms all gave off an air of affluent upper-middle-class England. She hummed to herself as she walked along. Curtains twitched as she walked past, assessing the threat from this stranger, fingers hovering over phones in case the police needed to be called.
She knocked at the appropriate door. A blonde woman in her 30’s appeared. She smartly dressed though she appeared to have been baking by the smells that emitted from within and had patches of flour on her designer suit. Her face had the toasted brown colour of someone who habitually spends hours on a sunbed. She had a glass of wine in her hand and had obviously been drinking and was a little tipsy even though it was still well before noon.
Fenchurch asked for Russell.
“Goodness me, there’s a blast from the past!” giggled the lady. “I haven’t seen Russell since he left me four years ago. Went off to do something in the jungle. Saving Gorillas or elephants or something. The suburban life didn’t really suit him. Didn’t keep in touch, never even filled in the divorce papers I sent him.”
She suddenly stopped and looked Fenchurch up and down.
“So who are you then, coming asking after him after all this time?” she continued.
Fenchurch looked down at her clothes. She had to admit she looked a bit of a sight. The space travel clothes would have looked very trendy if they had been new and clean but the dust and grime of spaceships had taken their toll.
“I’m his sister,” Fenchurch replied and put out her hand to shake.
The woman looked down her nose at her, “Sister? Russell never had a sister. What do you take me for, a fool?” she was becoming aggressive, “Do you think you can get money from me, is that what it is?”
“Go away!” she said and with that, she slammed the door. Fenchurch heard her muttering behind it “I’m sure he never had a sister… I’d have remembered a sister…”
“And I’m sure he never had a wife,” she thought to herself as she walked away, “but if he had that one, I could see why he left.”
Fenchurch tried Russell working in some rickety tent deep in the jungle, caring for animals. It was not a concept that came easily but, when it did, she felt good about it and smiled. This world was different, worse in some ways, better in others.
She decided to go to Islington and pick up a few things from her house.
The train ride to London took her through a land that was so familiar but with occasional, odd, differences.
When she finally got to her alley all she found was a derelict stable.
In despair she headed for Hyde Park and was re-assured when she found it was as she remembered it. Remembered that sunny summer’s day she had spent in this park with Arthur and had first learned of his wanderings around the galaxy. It seemed so long ago. A world away?
She spent the night at a YWCA then made her way back to Cottington and was waiting at the sliproad when the truck full of salt rolled up.