As she drove home, foot on the floor and screaming at the bus drivers that had dedicated their lives to slowing her down, she swore and cursed, and thumped the wheel. How could she have messed it up so badly, she had the script! All her life she’d sucked at talking to guys, just sucked, but this time, it was written down. Could it be any easier? Apparently, it needed to be, because she’d screwed up pretty badly.

She was still cussing as she slammed the front door open and charged into the bedroom. The book lay, innocent and inert on the bedside table and she snatched it up, flicking through until she reached the page. The words had changed, and she whimpered slightly, skimming on to the next day. Before, he’d came back in, asked to see her, and they’d chatted about all kinds of things. Now, tomorrow was just another day. Except, apparently, she’d forget her sandwiches and wind up running to Boots to buy some lunch. With a wordless scream, she threw the book at the wall, watched it bounce off and hit the floor, then dived headlong onto the bed and rescued it. Head hanging over the edge, she read on.

This time, she died childless, and alone, retired for ten years from the bank and miserable. Tears were streaming down her face as she closed the book, then stared at it. She hated it, hated it desperately. It had done this to her, brought to this place where she had been promised so much only to have it ripped from her grasp. She snarled, digging her nails into the cover, then, decision made, she rushed into the kitchen and turned on the gas hob. She held it over the flame, watched as the corner began to brown. Then, with a shout, she pulled it free and slammed it onto the worktop.

Perhaps. Perhaps, there was something she could do.

She picked it up and wandered back into the lounge. She could call the guy, get his number from the bank records. It wasn’t strictly allowed, but he must have thought she was cool, if he would have been willing to marry her, in the other future, so he wouldn’t mind. She could phone him and talk and then check the book again and find out. Then if it still hadn’t worked, she could try something else. It was like a horoscope she could rely on. Yes!

She placed the book gently on the side table and flicked on the TV.

Next installment, Saturday 13th July