Nineteen

“Fifteen-two, fifteen-four, two’s six and six is a dozen.”

Andrew pointed at the cards as he counted. Sarah glared at him across the glass-topped coffee table that separated her armchair from the sofa.

“That’s the third dozen you’ve had!”

“I know.” Andrew leaned back on the sofa and beamed. “I do believe that’s £1.50 you owe me.”

“For now.”

Sarah jotted the total down on a piece of paper lying next to the walnut-wood scoreboard.

“You taught me this game so that you could beat me at something, didn’t you?” Her annoyance was only half-feigned.

“Oh, I don’t need cribbage to prove my superiority!”

Sarah let a grin break her stony expression.

“Wait till I get you into bed later,” she purred. “We’ll see who comes out on top!”

“Is that a promise?”

“You wish.”

It was Andrew’s turn to grin. He sat up.

“So, what have you got?”

Sarah laid her cards down on the table.

“Nineteen.”

Andrew stared at the cards.

“No you haven’t. You’ve got some points there.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s what I said. Nineteen.”

“Ah, I didn’t teach you that, did I? You see, in cribbage,” Andrew measured his words, as if speaking to a child, “you can’t get nineteen. Whatever combination of cards you have, nineteen is impossible. It’s like a mystical number. So we say ‘nineteen’ when in fact you have no points in your hand at all. And you’ve got some points there, I can see, so it can’t be nineteen. Do you get me?”

“I get you, but you’re wrong. I’ve got nineteen.”

Andrew shook his head and laughed.

“No darling, count them properly. It can’t be nineteen.”

Sarah pointed at the combinations and counted aloud.

“Fifteen-two, fifteen-four …”

Andrew’s mind drifted as he followed Sarah’s slender fingers and her lovely, gentle voice.

“… and three’s nineteen.”

“No, no. That can’t be right. Let me do it.”

Andrew snatched the cards from Sarah’s side of the table and laid them down, counting silently and then counting again. He blanched.

“Nineteen.”

“Told you so. Why don’t you ev—”

“But that’s impossible. It was one of the first things my dad told me when he taught me the game—what? —30 years ago. You look at any book on the subject. It …”

He counted the cards once more, then flopped back, his mouth open slightly.

“Come on, Andy. It’s only a game.”

Andrew’s expression was a mixture of befuddlement and consternation.

“No. Don’t you see? It’s not right. It’s a … a … perversion … of a universal truth.”

Sarah scoffed loudly.

“Right that’s it. Give me those cards. I’m not having a stupid card game spoil my evening.”

She leaned over to take the cards back. Andrew grabbed her hand, squeezing it and making her yelp.

“What the—?”

“Sorry. Sarah, listen. It’s not just this.”

Sarah nursed her hand but caught the worry in her husband’s voice.

“What then?”

“I’ve been having this strange thing happen to me.”

He stared at the crib scoreboard and bit his lower lip.

“Every night—I mean every night—I wake up and look at the bedside clock. And do you know what I see?”

Sarah frowned at the slightly wild look in his eyes.

“Three ones. One-eleven. Every. Single. Night.”

“That is odd, yeah, but what does it have to do with nineteen in crib?”

Andrew shook his head, as if to rid himself of his doubts.

“I don’t know.”

“Look. I was in the supermarket last week and I saw a man drop a box of eggs. The next day, the same supermarket, the same man … dropped a box of eggs. Just coincidence, surely!”

Andrew lowered his voice to a whisper.

“Or a kind of … déjà vu? Come on, Sarah. Something’s going on!”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. How can you explain these things? Ripples in the fabric of space-time? Something like that?”

Sarah’s eyes widened.

“Ripples in the … you’ve been watching too much Doctor Who, Andy.”

Andrew relaxed a little and smiled.

“You might be right, I suppose. It’s just that, well, these strange phenomena happening all at once …”

“Strange phenomena? Actually, now you mention it, I was in the supermarket last week and I saw a man drop a box of eggs. The next day, the same supermarket, the same man … dropped a box of eggs. Just coincidence, surely!”

Andrew lowered his voice to a whisper.

“Or a kind of … déjà vu? Come on, Sarah. Something’s going on!”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. How can you expla—”

Andrew froze. On the other side of the coffee table, Sarah froze, too. On the wall, the clock … froze.

 

~~~~~

 

Seated in a gleaming white room, Zrrok poked at the hologram; the scene wouldn’t budge. He poked it again. Nothing. He let out an impatient growl that sounded like a marauding horde of Xerspian gnarrops.

“Not again!”

He tapped a monitor next to the hologram.

“Yup?” The voice of Petskatin, and her image on the monitor.

“Petskatin, got a problem with B-Quadrant-5 again.”

“We fixed that last moon, didn’t we?”

“I thought so. But it’s all gone static again.”

“Right. Let me have a look, then.”

Zrrok watched on the monitor as Petskatin tapped various pads and buttons; he had a soft spot for her and was perversely glad of the glitch to have this modicum of contact. Eventually, she came back.

“Gonna have to reset, I’m afraid. And it’ll track back a bit.”

Zrrok suppressed another growl.

“Really? Don’t like to do that. You don’t know what effect it might have on the sim.”

“I know,” Petskatin nodded, “but I’ve checked and it’s the only way you’re going to budge ‘em.”

“Well, okay. Can you do that for me, then?”

“Sure, right away.”

“And another thing.”

“Shoot.”

Zrrok paused to gain courage.

“What are you doing after work?”

 

~~~~~

 

Andrew put down his newspaper and stretched. Sarah was sitting next to him on the sofa, reading a book. He gazed at her profile and a warm smile formed on his lips.

“Bit bored now.”

Sarah didn’t look up from the page.

“That’s Sunday afternoon for you.”

“Yeah. Want to do something?”

Sarah caught the tone of Andrew’s voice and turned to him.

“What like?”

“A game of crib?”

“Ah. I thought you were talking about something else.”

Andrew grinned at Sarah’s obvious disappointment and winked.

“That can be later.”

Sarah laughed and jumped up.

“I’ll get the cards.”