Every Which Way but East

Part One

Suspicions

Chapter 1

Tom stared vacantly into space and scratched himself again. 'I must remember to shave,' he thought vaguely to himself. 'Tomorrow', he added. 'Definitely tomorrow.'

The television droned on in the corner of the room, but he wasn't giving it much attention. In fact Tom wasn't giving much attention to anything lately. He looked about him, 'Hmm. Could do with a bit of a tidy up, probably. I'll do that tomorrow as well.'

The room, in truth, hadn't been tidied for some time. It hadn't been vacuumed for even longer and as for dusting and polishing, Tom couldn't even remember if he owned any dusters or polish. 'Hmm,' he said to himself again. 'Perhaps I should get a cleaner.'

There was a time, once, when he had been married, before his wife left him, when he'd lived in a home that was always clean and tidy. It had even smelled of furniture polish. But that was then and this was now. Then he had lived in a big Edwardian house with his wife, but she was long gone. Now he lived in a little box of a house near the old hospital, on his own. Well, not quite on his own. There was a cat.

Then he had had a job, but now he just had a pension.

He wasn't actually old enough to retire. Not strictly. But when he was offered a voluntary redundancy, after his wife had left, he accepted without hesitation. That was five years ago. Now he was approaching fifty six.

At first he had thrown himself into the house and garden. Refurbished the kitchen and the bathroom. Did all the work himself. He was passably competent if he put his mind to it, but the motivation to put his mind to it had gradually evaporated. Now, he more or less ate, slept and watched the TV. Tomorrow, though, … tomorrow he would start the come back.

Probably.

He scratched himself again and watched a spider in the corner of the room up by the ceiling add to it's already extensive web. 'Hmm,' he thought. 'I ought to do something about that.'

The programme changed on the TV. It became a programme about dating and Tom found himself taking an interest. He hadn't actually been out on a date for a long time, but the more he watched the more the idea began to appeal. The programme was following a group of people of various backgrounds and ages as they tried to find new soul mates. One of them was a man in his fifties. Not unlike himself.

A black cat wandered into the room and threaded it's way through the debris that was Tom's living room floor. It rubbed itself against a chair leg for a while and then sat preening it's fur. After licking it's front paws and wiping it's cheeks a few times it turned it's attention to it's back end and sat with one leg pointing skywards as it licked all the parts it could reach.

On the TV the subjects were discussing their relative successes or failures following up newspaper lonely hearts ads. Tom looked about him for the local paper. He had plenty to choose from. 'Must throw a few of them out,' he thought absently.

The programme stopped for an ad break and Tom reached out for the nearest paper. Sure enough there was a page for 'People who want to meet people'. 'Hmm,' thought Tom. 'Strange. Who else would people want to meet if it wasn't people? Maybe they have a page for people who want to meet horses, or dogs, or …..' Vaguely he wondered if it might be more interesting to meet an animal. Something big like a yak, or an elephant. Wouldn't want a date with one, though, he said aloud. Wouldn't know what to talk about, that's if they do talk, of course. You could talk about living in the jungle I suppose. Actually I'm not sure Yaks do live in the jungle. Or elephants come to that.

The cat stopped it's licking and regarded him briefly before resuming.

'Strange,' thought Tom reading on down the lonely hearts page. 'These adverts are all for good looking, tall people with GSOH, whatever that is. I wonder where the ugly people go? Or the short ones?'

'Attractive bubbly blonde seeks tall man with GSOH for evenings in, maybe more!'

'More what?' wondered Tom. 'More GSOH, I suppose.'

'Fun, curvy, redhead looking for Mr Right. Have you got what it takes?'

'Hmm,' thought Tom. 'Not sure. Not sure what it is she's looking for. I might have it I suppose. There's a lot of stuff in the shed. I think she needs to be a bit more specific.'

'Curious m seeks similar.' 'Similar what?' he wondered. 'And what exactly is a curious m?'

The cat tired of it's ablutions and strolled across to the sofa where Tom was sitting.

'Thai girl offers all services. Discretion assured'. 'Hmm. That might be interesting. I wonder if she does cleaning?'. He folded down the corner of the page. 'I'll give her a ring when I can find my phone.' He wondered again where the phone could have got to. Hadn't see it for days. 'Probably turn up,' he shrugged.

The cat jumped up onto the sofa. It wasn't a young cat. Probably about the same as Tom in cat years. It sidled up to him and nuzzled him in the arm a few times before climbing into his lap.

Hello, Smokey, said Tom absent mindedly. He scratched the top of the cat's head gently and it began to knead his stomach and purr.

Tom's attention wandered back to the TV momentarily. The programme had moved on from the newspaper ads and was talking about speed dating. He hadn't been paying attention at the start of the item and was trying to fathom out what the rows of people sitting at card tables had to do with anything. Especially as they didn't seem to have any cards.

Smokey had stopped kneading and after turning in circles three times, had settled down into Tom's lap. The purring seemed to have changed subtly into snoring. He continued to scratch it's head. It appeared to be a displacement activity for scratching himself.

The people on the TV screen changed tables every so often. At least, the women changed tables. The men stayed put. Tom couldn't quite see what the point of it was. It reminded him of the Mad Hatter's tea party in Alice in Wonderland except that there wasn't any tea. The folk on the TV, however, were enthusing. Even the middle aged chap said he'd got three dates as a result of the speed dating. Tom wasn't sure how it worked, but it sounded interesting.

Wonder if I should try that? he said aloud.

Smokey half opened one eye and regarded him.

What do you think, pussy? Should I do speed dating?

The cat yawned and stretched. It opened both eyes wide and looked straight at him.

I do wish you wouldn’t call me pussy, it said. I do have a name.

Chapter 2

Tom wasn't unduly surprised to hear the cat talk. He'd first learned that cat's could talk about five years ago when he'd saved the world.

They could walk through walls, too, provided that the walls were perfectly aligned in an east/west direction. Tom's previous house had been perfectly aligned, but this one wasn't.

Smokey, or Boudicca as she'd chosen to call herself then, had recruited Tom to help the cats restore the balance of probability in the universe. It wasn't that Tom was the ideal man for the job so much that his walls ran in the right east/west direction.

Cats have been walking through walls since time began. Well, ever since people began building walls, that is. Each time they walk through an east/west wall they end up in a parallel universe. There are millions of parallel universes, each subtly different from it's neighbours.

It's all to do with probability, you see. Every time a choice is made anywhere in the universe it isn't just one choice that's made, both choices happen simultaneously and the universe splits. In one universe one choice is made and in the parallel one the other choice is made. These universes splitting off are happening all the time, but you only know the one you are living in, of course.

Actually, there is a parallel 'you' living in the next universe right now and in the next and the next. It's not an exact copy of you, of course, because each one is slightly different from it's neighbour because of the different choices that have been made. If you travel through enough levels the 'you' might be nothing like you at all.

Actually, for very tiny choices, such as 'would you like another cup of tea?' or, 'does my bum look big in this?', the parallel universes are so close together that they coalesce back into one again. That's because on average for everyone who says 'yes' there will be someone else who says 'no'. If pretty much everyone said 'yes' then the difference would cause enough imbalance for the parallel universe to stay separate. It's a sort of quantum effect.

It's the same with the cats. For every cat that travels one way into a parallel universe, a different cat travels back through a wall somewhere in the opposite direction to maintain the balance. Eventually every cat comes back to it's own home anyway, so balance is restored. If they didn't maintain the balance then the laws of probability would start to shift.

That's what happened five years ago when the two Smiths began swapping lottery balls from parallel universes that were fifty levels apart. The two Smiths were both lottery employees in their respective universes and, apart from Tom, the only people ever to have discovered the secret of walking through walls.

Actually they didn't discover it. Smith's cat, Valerie, gave the game away by bragging.

Tom and the two Smiths were also amongst the very few people who knew that cats could talk. Although a lot of people talk to their cats, very few cats ever deign to answer back. When they do, their surprised owners are never believed anyway and if they persist it can be a pretty short trip the nut house.

Tom continued to fondle the cat. Could you just scratch the top of my head, she murmured.

Actually, this was the first time in ages that she'd spoken to Tom. After they'd saved the universe from the Smith's lottery swindle and restored the balance of probability there hadn't been much need. As long as he continued to put down the food each day, Smokey pretty much went back to being as independent as she had been before. Out most nights and asleep most days.

Tom had also pretty much stopped walking through walls himself. Initially he had been intrigued by the version of his wife that he'd found in the next universe, but once he'd been convinced that he couldn't stay permanently in her universe and neither would she ever be able to come to his, there seemed little point. Besides, she seemed fairly satisfied with the version of Tom that already existed in her own universe.

In fact he couldn't remember the last time he'd even thought about walking through a wall.

He wondered vaguely why Smokey had begun speaking to him again, but the thought quickly passed.

The dating programme on the TV was coming to an end. Each of the six people that the programme had been following seemed to have ended up with a new partner of some kind. Even the older man was shown with his arm around a pleasant looking dark haired lady. He looked very pleased with himself. Actually, she looked pretty pleased too.

'Hmm,' thought Tom. 'Hmm.'

Smokey rolled over on Tom's lap and lay on her back with all four paws in the air. Tom idly scratched her belly. 'A bit more to the right,' she said.

'Hmm,' said Tom again, but his thoughts were on card tables and speed dating, even though he hadn't fully grasped the concept. The outcome was interesting, though. He wondered if the card tables implied that you had to be able to play bridge. He'd never been much good at cards. Couldn't ever do that shuffling thing properly. When he tried the cards often ended up on the floor.

I reckon it must be in the wrist action, he said suddenly, waving his arms about and momentarily panicking the cat, who clawed his leg in her frantic efforts to get the right way up again.

I do wish you wouldn't do that, she said. Damned near scared me to death.

Tom wondered which death that would be since cats apparently had nine of them. Smokey began to settle again in his lap.

What do you think about speed dating? Tom asked.

Never needed to do it, she replied.

For me, I was thinking. Not you. I don't think cats do speed dating.

'Oh, we have our moments,' she thought to herself.

Chapter 3

Tom couldn't get the speed dating idea out of his head. 'I wonder where you do it,' he pondered. He did think of looking in Exchange and Mart magazine, but it didn't seem likely. He looked in the local paper again but couldn't see anything. The page with the corner folded over reminded him of something, or it was supposed to. He couldn't remember what it was that he was supposed to be reminding himself about though.

'Hmm,' he thought.

He had begun a half hearted clearing up. Mainly it consisted of putting things into neater piles. Momentarily he was distracted by finding his juggling balls. 'Haven't seen them in a while,' he thought. 'Wonder if I've still got the touch.'

'Apparently not,' he decided a few moments later, surveying an even worse chaos than when he'd started. 'I think I need a cleaner.'

He remembered what it was he was supposed to be remembering. It was about getting a cleaner.

He found the ad from yesterday's paper. 'Thai girl offers all services. Discretion assured.' 'Think I'll give her a ring and see if she does cleaning,' he muttered.

She answered after three rings.

Hello. I wonder if you are available?

Depends how soon and what you want.

I was thinking of today if you can.

I've got an hour at two o'clock.

Do you think that's enough?

More than enough for most men, I've found.

Tom looked round at the mess. An hour didn't seem long enough to make much impression. Are you sure you can do it in an hour. It's quite big.

Size isn't everything, she giggled.

'She seems quite nice,' thought Tom.

I've got three bedrooms and a lounge, he continued. And a kitchen. Yes, three bedrooms, a lounge, a kitchen and a bathroom. Three bedrooms, a lounge, a kitchen, a bathroom and a dining room. All those and a conservatory. And a shed, but I don't think we'll have time for the shed.

Are you sure you've got the stamina? she asked.

'Hmm,' thought Tom. I thought you'd be doing it on your own, he said.

Whatever turns you on, big boy, but most men like to join in. She giggled again.

There's only one vacuum cleaner, said Tom, but I have got a broom.

What did you have in mind? she asked after a short pause.

I thought we could start in the back and work round. You could use the broom and I could use the vacuum, or the other way round if you think that would be better.

You're talking about cleaning aren't you, she said after another short pause.

Well, tidying and cleaning, a bit of sweeping and polishing, some clearing and rearranging, a bit of this and a bit of that, comme ci comme ca. He wasn't quite sure what that meant, but it seemed to fit the occasion.

I don't think you could afford me, she replied. My prices start at £50.

Oh. I was thinking it might be more like £7.50 or £8.

He put the phone down and then remembered that he hadn't said goodbye. He picked up the receiver but there was just a dialling tone. He jiggled the receiver rest a few times like he'd seen at the cinema but it did no good. Thank you, he said anyway. I'll have to think about it. I'll call you back.

Smokey came back in from where ever she'd been and rubbed herself against his leg. Together they surveyed the mess. 'I don't think she was a cleaner,' he said to no one in particular.

The cat looked up at him but said nothing.

I wonder where you do speed dating? he muttered.

Cat and Fiddle, said Smokey.

How did you know that?

I get about. There's a poster in the window of the pub. They do it every month.

I didn't know they did it for cats. How does it work?

She ignored the comment about cats. It's on Tuesday at 8 o'clock, she added.

Do they do one for people? asked Tom.

It is for people, idiot.

He wasn't sure he liked being called an idiot by his cat, but decided to let it go.

So, is it for people with cats, or people and cats? Or is it for people who want to meet cats? I'm a bit confused.

'No change there then,' thought Smokey, but she kept the thought to herself.

Just people, she said.

Why did you mention cats, then? Bit of a red herring that. That's if a cat can be a red herring, of course. More of a red catfish really, except they're brown aren't they? Not red.

He was talking to air. The cat had evaporated while he was talking.

He decided to make a start on the tidying anyway and, surprisingly, after an hour or so the place was already looking better – as long as you didn't actually look underneath anything.

The speed dating thing was still niggling him, though. Every few minutes the TV image of a row of card tables with men sitting at them came into his mind. 'I wonder if you have to take your own table?' He cast his eyes around the room. 'Hmm. I could take the coffee table I suppose. It's a bit low, but I don't even know where to buy a card table. I've never seen a card table shop.'

The cleaning fizzled out after an hour and twenty minutes as Tom flopped back onto the sofa. 'Tomorrow,' he thought. 'I'll finish it tomorrow.'

Chapter 4

In the Cat and Fiddle and in countless other bars up and down the country the weekly darts league was setting up for the evening match. Mostly that consisted of getting in a good few rounds before the match started and trying to move on the people standing in front of the dart board. As the players filled up, the pub also filled up and the noise levels increased.

Fat Belly Johnson sharpened his darts and downed his fourth pint ahead of his match with his partner Two Bellies Murphy. Their stomachs hung alarmingly over the belts of their trousers and their shirts gaped to expose a triangle of hairy white flesh on each man. Two Bellies, as his name implied, outranked Fat Belly, both in his dart playing and in his girth. They restocked on beers at the bar and waited for their opponents to show up.

The visiting team was an unknown. They had only been added to the league at the start of this season and this was their first visit to the Cat and Fiddle. Word was, though, from the teams that they'd already played, that they were rubbish. Johnson and Murphy scented an easy win tonight, which would keep them near the top of the league.

They downed their fifth pints as one and ordered again.

At about a minute to eight the public bar door opened to admit two strange looking men. They both had Zapata type moustaches, long sideburns and enormous stomachs.

Ey oop, said Two Bellies. Reckon that's them.

The two newcomers made their way towards the darts area and introduced themselves.

Three Bellies McGuire, and Four Bellies McDuff, they said in turn.

Johnson and Murphy introduced themselves and nodded towards the bar. We've got a couple in for you. You've got a bit of catching up to do.

Nearest the bull to start? asked Three Bellies when they'd collected their drinks.

Johnson threw first and scraped the wire on the bulls eye. Three Bellies, threw next and bounced off the board to land on the floor.

Two Bellies glanced across to his partner and raised an eyebrow. Should be an easy match. He threw his dart and hit the bulls eye square on.

Nice shot, said Four Bellies McDuff. He licked the tip of his dart and lobbed it towards the board. It hit somewhere just inside the triple twenty, wavered alarmingly and drooped, but didn't actually fall out.

That'll be us to start then, said Fat Belly Johnson. 'Better get some more beers in. This might not take long' he thought to himself.

An hour later and it was all over. A whitewash to Johnson and Murphy. McGuire and McDuff had landed more darts around the board than on it.

Johnson and Murphy downed their eighth pint each. Their opponents were still struggling to finish their second. Good match, lads, McDuff said, extending his hand to Fat Belly Johnson.

Er, yeh. Tah. Yeh. Good match, he replied haltingly. Hands were shaken all round and the match results carefully added to the league scorecards. I'll post these on my way home, said Two Bellies.

Pair of bloody muppets, he said later to Fat Belly Johnson after the other team had left.

I reckon they've got you beat on the gut, though, replied Fat Belly.

Yeh. Odd, though. They aren't drinkers.

They're not darts players either. Still, two easy points for us. Shouldn't complain.

Outside the Cat and Fiddle two cats perched on a low brick wall. They watched Three Bellies McGuire and Four Bellies McDuff leave the pub and get into a waiting taxi. They were not there to spy. This was their regular evening meeting place. Smokey watched the cab drive away.

There's something a bit odd about those two, she said. I'm sure I've seen them somewhere before.

Her