Episode 5 - On the Edge

Ray left Mary and Joss discussing song lyrics for Uterus ("I've put been on HRT, find out what it means to me!") and wandered outside. He wondered whether anybody else was having trouble adjusting to the move. Mary just seemed to be carrying on as blissfully as usual, her ripe stomach and saintly smile reminding Ray of a school nativity. He had played a sheep, of course. Mary had been there then, too, gliding along beside him as though reminding him by her constant presence that they were destined to be together. He remembered flicking a rubber at her in English, or had it been History? The rest of their courtship and young adulthood was just a fuzzy feeling of comfortable romance: holding hands in the park, holding hands in the cinema, and finally holding hands in the church. Other than those vague memories, there was just the bright colours of childhood and now, the present. It was as though someone had thrown him here and planted a vaguely happy past in his head to give him some sort of back story.

All of a sudden he felt like he was standing on the edge of a road, a road that stretched out from his house for ever and ever (seemingly), until suddenly it stopped, leaving him teetering on the brink of an empty space.

He put his hand to his head to steady the vertigo that had attacked him for the second time that day. It was rather difficult as he was still carrying a newspaper and briefcase, plus a strange blue cloth that suggested a coat although it had no sleeves or buttons. It seemed he was ready for work, but where did he work? In an office, presumably. He racked his brains and eventually came up with a fuzzy picture of a row of computers with screens around them like pigpens. There was a secretary called Trisha and a boss called Simon. Even the names made him yawn. They were predictable. His job, he was beginning to remember, was predictable. He supposed he should go back, go through the motions of unpacking, moan harmlessly about his job and pat his wife's smooth, round bump.

He looked for the edge of the road, the edge of the precipice, and felt a surprising jolt of disappointment that there was nothing of the sort after all.