The Yoghurt Plot by Fleur Hitchcock

Author:Fleur Hitchcock
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781471403255
Publisher: Hot Key Books
Published: 2014-06-04T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

‘What?’ says Lorna, looking around. ‘Oh my days! What’s happened?’

There’s nothing. We’re on shingle, but it’s not by the sea. The sea’s miles out there with the remains of the pier. The pier that actually looks more complete than anywhere else here. The beach seems to have come right inland. All there is in the landscape is a huge bank of stones, some patches of grass, reeds, lumps of rusty concrete, a bin and a sign sticking out of the ground.

No houses, no estate, no nothing.

There’s the fridge of course. Standing there, all on its own, no electricity – no chance of electricity, humming. Actually, growling.

‘Is this now,’ asks Lorna, turning towards me, ‘or have we ended up in, like, 2050? You know, after the end of television and stuff.’

I look around for anything that’s going to tell us when we are. Inland, sand dunes stretch away towards a line of pylons, and in the distance are storm clouds.

There’s nothing of any use at all. I wander over to the sign.

‘Approximate site of the town of Shabbiton. Here, during the heavy rainstorms of the summer of 1969, a small but vital land drain was blocked by litter, undermining the subsoil and destroying the small town. One of the few remaining features of the town is the pier, and at low tide the streets are still visible under the sand. 6,600 people lost their homes.’

I can’t actually speak.

‘But that’s impossible,’ says Lorna, taking one of the gerbils out of her pocket. ‘I mean, where’s it gone? Where are all the bricks? All the stuff?’ She looks around frantically. ‘Where’s the shop?’

I glance in the direction of the shop. It’s not there. Nothing’s there.

Nothing’s been there for forty-five years. The sea’s slowly taken over the land, piling stones and sand on what was left.

She goes over to read the sign again. ‘Oh no,’ she says eventually. ‘It was that carrier bag, wasn’t it? I shouldn’t have let it go.’

I nod. I’m so cross with her I can hardly think. First her gerbils, then theft and now her litter – does she have no understanding of time and consequence? For a few minutes I pace up and down the shingle, grinding it under my shoes. And then I begin to wonder where my family would be. If they don’t live in Shabbiton, where would they have ended up? And if I did find them, do I already exist? How would my parents react to having two Buggs? Would I become twins? Which head would I occupy, or would I flit from one head to the other – or would I actually just melt into myself? I turn back to the fridge. It looks smug, really smug, like it’s taught us a lesson. I open the door. It’s completely empty, except for two foil-topped yoghurts in glass pots.

‘I think,’ I say, ‘that the fridge is giving us another chance.’

Once again we arrive in the painted kitchen and it’s beginning to feel familiar. A millisecond before the kitchen comes into focus I see myself and Lorna, occupying the same space.

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