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.And there were no close relatives.All the old neighbors had moved away.And as for family friends—the few that might remember that far back—he'd lost touch with them many years ago.There was no one.Except for her.The stranger in the bedroom.And he could hear her coming down the stairs.He turned towards the door and waited for it to open.It didn't.He heard the click-clack of her shoes on the kitchen floor.The opening and closing of cupboards.And then her voice."Graham, where did you put the shopping I asked you to get? I can't see it anywhere."He replaced the picture of his father, slammed the albums shut and stuffed them back into the sideboard."Graham? Where are you?"The lounge door opened.The woman came in."There you are.Did you get the shopping like I asked you?"Graham shrugged, not sure what to do.Should he confront the woman or play dumb?The woman shook her head."I despair of you sometimes, Graham.I really do.Did you get the shopping or not?"Graham shook his head.The woman rolled her eyes."Have you still got the list?"He checked his pockets.He found a shopping list in the same pocket as his note.But no black and gold business card.He searched his pockets again."It's there in your hands," the woman said impatiently, pointing at the small strip of light blue note paper."I can see it from here."Graham stopped looking for the business card and held out the shopping list."I don't want it," she snapped."You know perfectly well you do the shopping on Tuesdays.It's all the heavy stuff." She looked at her watch."There's still time if you leave now.They're open to half past."Graham nodded, folded the list into his pocket and hurriedly left.He was glad to get out of the house.* * *Graham shook his head as he walked along Wealdstone Lane.What was happening to this world? Every day there was something new, some new twist that, if ignored, changed tack and came back twice as scary the next day.There must have been a major unravelling.It was the only thing that made sense.Something enormous.Something that reverberated through the outer layers of the planet, fracturing reality and generating host after host of aftershocks.He'd just have to ride them out.After all, he'd done it before.He'd been through far worse as a kid.Twice he'd woken up to find his father had died in the night.Twice he'd watched his mother grieve, unable to comfort her."He'll come back," he'd told her the second time, rubbing her back, trying to console her."He came back last time, didn't he?"Not a pleasant memory; his mother's head spinning round, the look in her eyes, the anger so intense she couldn't speak.But he'd been right.His father had come back.Appearing out of the blue one morning as though nothing had happened.Only to vanish again within the year.He'd lost his mother twice as well.The first to a heart attack, the second.He never knew what happened the second time.He woke up one morning and she just wasn't there.Her bed hadn't been slept in, no note.She'd just unravelled away, leaving a room full of clothes and a house full of memories.But he'd endured.Survived.Moved on.This too would pass.He turned the corner, lined up his right foot with the back edge of that big cherry tree, and started to count.* * *Graham looked at the shopping list as he manoeuvred the shopping trolley towards the supermarket door.He liked everything arranged in supermarket aisle order so that he could walk along the aisles and go down his list one by one.But this list wasn't in any order.Unless they'd changed the shelf layout again.They hadn't.He wheeled the shopping trolley down the first aisle.Music blared out from an unseen speaker, a few last-minute shoppers darted purposefully back and forth between the shelves.He took another look at the list.What was the woman buying? All those processed foods, products he'd never touch.He liked his food fresh and home-made.He liked a strict order to his meals.Roasts on Sunday, pie on Monday, fish on Friday.The week had an order to it.His stomach expected it.God knows what he was going to have to eat tonight.He rearranged the list in his head and started loading the trolley—tins of soup, baked beans, ravioli.Up and down the aisles, more tins, more ready meals.He stopped by the frozen food display and leaned over to rummage through the packs of frozen fish.He liked to take the ones from the middle, they felt more.A hand reached in and touched his.A woman's."Graham Smith?" she whispered.Graham glanced to his side.He knew who it would be but had to check just the same.His eyes widened in surprise.It was Annalise but."I know," she said."I have a slight weight problem.But the way I see it, if I'm VR girl then all diets are off."She grinned and waited.Graham blinked and quickly looked around to see if anyone was watching."You're supposed to laugh," she said."That was my ice-breaking joke.I spent hours on the plane thinking that one up.""Sorry.It's just.""You do know who I am, don't you?" she said anxiously."I'm Annalise Mercado.The other Annas were sure you'd know."Graham nodded and straightened up.He could hardly take his eyes off her.She was so familiar and yet so different.It was like seeing a close friend who had gained fifty pounds in a day.The friend was still there but all her features had softened."You forgot your fish," said Annalise, handing it over to him and looking at him quizzically.He checked the aisle again—still empty
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