Step Back in Time

by Ali McNamara

  I open the door to the shop and, as always, a small bell rings over my head.

  ‘Hi, George,’ I say as I see him bending over behind his counter sorting through a box of old records.

  He straightens himself up slowly and with care. ‘Jo-Jo,’ he says, looking surprised. ‘Golly, is it that time already?’ He looks at an old wooden mantle clock behind the desk. ‘Well, so it is, 2 p.m. on the dot. How are you, my girl?’

  ‘I’m good, thanks, George. I have your accounts.’ I hold up his battered old account book. ‘All present and correct, and I’m pleased to say you still turned over a profit again last year.’

  George nods knowingly as if that was never in doubt. ‘Good, good,’ he says distractedly. ‘Now, have you time for a cup of tea, child?’

  ‘Of course I do,’ I say, smiling and quickly hiding my Starbucks cup behind my back. ‘You make the best cup of tea in London.’

  George nods again in agreement. ‘That I do. Take a seat, I’ll be right back.’

  I sit down on a wooden chair that stands in the corner of the shop and wait. Even though I’ve just downed a large cup of coffee, I wouldn’t want to disappoint George and so I’ll always take a cup of tea from him. I may barely have time to set foot outside the office these days, but this is one lot of accounts I always take the time to return myself. George loves nothing more than for someone to sit and take a cup of tea with him, so he can recall one or two of his many stories about the past.

  As I look around the shop, the familiar rhythmical ticking of the clock behind the desk immediately begins to calm any panic I felt about being late. The shop never changes that much. It has always had the same décor for as long as I can remember. George always arranges his stock in exactly the same way, and he always keeps a vase of bright, cheery sunflowers on the counter next to his till. I glance up at the posters on the wall showing pop stars and rock bands through the ages. Classics icons such as the Rolling Stones, Michael Jackson and David Bowie take their place on the wall next to more modern artists like Take That, Madonna and Coldplay. George even has a One Direction poster up now, although I very much doubt he has much call for their music in here amongst the records, cassettes and the few CDs that he keeps in stock. Most kids these days download their music to their iPods and smartphones, don’t they?

  Some music starts to play in the shop. Ah, what is it George is playing for me today? I wonder. He always likes to try and educate me about some old band or other when I’m here. But today I happen to know this tune. How could I not? It’s a Beatles track, ‘Hello Goodbye’.

  George appears from the back carrying two mugs of tea; he passes me one with Choose Life emblazoned across it. ‘I’ll give you the modern one,’ he explains. ‘I’ll just take my good old Abbey Road mug.’

  ‘Modern?’ I ask, examining the motto. ‘What’s choose life?’

  George shakes his head. ‘Jo-Jo, you must know Wham – George Michael’s old band? Everyone was wearing T-shirts with this slogan on when they were around.’

  ‘George, Wham were about in the eighties, I’m hardly going to remember what people were wearing then, am I? I wasn’t born until 1983.’

  ‘Ah, yes, of course,’ George nods. ‘The eighties seem like only yesterday to me.’

  And just as he says that, the music changes to another Beatles classic, ‘Yesterday’.

  ‘Hey, how did you do that, George?’ I laugh. ‘You timed it perfectly.’

  George lifts his head and listens to the track. ‘Another great,’ he says. ‘You know who this is playing, of course?’

  ‘Yes, I can never mistake the Beatles – I had their songs played constantly to me from the time I was born until the time I left home.’

  ‘Of course. You’ve mentioned before that your parents were Beatles fans.’ George pulls another chair up beside mine. ‘Great band – I miss them.’

  ‘You knew the Beatles?’ I exclaim, astonished. ‘I’m no great fan of theirs, but that’s really cool.’

  ‘Not exactly knew. They were customers from time to time – in their early days, when they first moved to London.’

  ‘Wow!’

  ‘This shop has seen a lot of customers over the years.’ George looks fondly around the four walls of posters. ‘I’m not sure what will happen to it when I’m gone.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, George, you’ve got years in you yet,’ I say lightly. ‘Don’t you have anyone to leave this place to?’ I ask as an afterthought. ‘No family?’

  George shakes his head. ‘There’s family, but they’re not interested in music the way I am. I’m sure they’ll just sell it.’

  I know George must be well into his seventies. I can’t bear the thought of this shop closing down when he’s gone. It’s his life’s work.

  ‘We’ll need to find someone to run it for you then, won’t we? Someone who shares your love of music.’

  ‘I can’t tempt you, then?’ George asks, smiling.

  ‘Definitely not! I know nothing about music. Never have done, never want to.’

  ‘But why? That’s quite unusual for someone of your age, surely?’

  ‘Blame my parents – I guess I just got put off having it drummed into me when I was young, no pun intended,’ I grin. ‘You always hate what your parents like, don’t you? It’s one of life’s unwritten rules.’

  George thinks about this. ‘But music is one of the few things that can bring people together, Jo-Jo, whether it’s through their love of it, or their taste in a particular band. Music unites the world.’

  I hadn’t expected George to be quite so poetic. ‘I guess you could be right.’

  ‘I know I’m right,’ George says without hesitation. ‘Think about all the couples that have a special song, one tune that they regard as theirs. You always remember the music you walk down the aisle to, or you break up with a boyfriend or girlfriend to, and the first time you… well, you know,’ George says, raising his white eyebrows at me.

  ‘George!’ I tease, smiling now. ‘I’m shocked.’

  ‘Ah, don’t be,’ George says with a wave of his hand. ‘I was young once, you know? People say it’s love that makes the world go round, but it’s not, it’s music.’

  ‘Maybe it’s a bit of both,’ I say. ‘Not that I need to worry about that right now.’

  ‘Still no Mr Right?’ George asks sympathetically. ‘There wasn’t the last time you were in either, if I remember rightly?’

  ‘Definitely no Mr Right. Not that I’m looking, mind. I’m far too busy for all that sort of nonsense.’

  George looks at me disapprovingly. ‘A pretty girl like you with no beau on her arm, criminal that is.’

  ‘I hardly think so. And now you sound like my mother; she’s always telling me I need to find someone before it’s too late. How can it be too late, George? I turn thirty this year, not sixty, for goodness’ sake. I’ve still got plenty of time.’

  ‘But don’t you get lonely?’ George asks. ‘Every time I see you you’re rushing here and there for your work, but you don’t seem to do anything else as far as I can tell. Sometimes it’s nice to have someone to share things with at the end of a hard day.’

  I think about this. ‘No, I don’t think I’m lonely; I quite like my own company. When you’ve grown up with two older sisters to bicker and fight with, it’s wonderful to have a peaceful house to yourself to chill out in.’

  George’s bright blue eyes regard me knowingly from behind his silver-rimmed spectacles. ‘Sometimes we think we know what we want, but we don’t actually know what we need until we find it.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You just never know what fate will throw at you, Jo-Jo,’ he says mysteriously. ‘It has a funny way of showing us what we sometimes didn’t know for ourselves. For instance you never know when or where you might meet someone…’ George looks towards the shop door. And, as if by magic, it opens.

  ‘Hey, George!’ A young man wearing a sharp charcoal grey suit and a crisp white shirt str
ides confidently through the door. ‘Long time no see, buddy! Oh, I’m so sorry,’ he says apologetically when he sees me. ‘I didn’t know you had company.’

  ‘This is Jo-Jo McKenzie,’ George says, introducing me. ‘Jo-Jo, this is Harry – he’s one of my best customers.’

  ‘I sometimes think I’m your only customer,’ Harry says, a wide, relaxed smile spreading across his face. ‘I was quite concerned when I had to go away and work overseas for a few months. But I see I needn’t have worried, because you have two of us to keep you afloat!’

  ‘Oh, I’m not a customer,’ I explain. ‘I’m George’s accountant.’

  ‘Accountant?’ Harry puzzles. ‘Not possible. Accountants are boring middle-aged men. Not…’ he struggles.

  ‘Not what, Harry?’ George asks, a smile spreading across his own lips now. His eyes dart between us.

  ‘Well…’ Harry struggles. ‘Not people that… look like you, that’s all.’ He waves his hand in my general direction and pretends to look with great interest at a poster on the wall. Unfortunately it’s the One Direction poster, so he hastily turns his head back towards us. He smiles nervously.

  ‘It’s OK,’ I reply. ‘Sadly it happens a lot, even in this day and age – stereotyping.’

  ‘Oh, I wasn’t stereotyping you,’ he says hastily. ‘I’m a fairly modern chap when it comes to women and jobs, and you’re hardly masquerading as a brickie or a bare-knuckle wrestler, are you? Not that there would be anything wrong in that if you were,’ he adds hurriedly when he sees the look on my face. ‘I was just wondering if I knew you, that’s all? Have we met before?’

  I wasn’t expecting this. ‘Erm, I don’t think so?’

  ‘It’s just… you look awfully familiar to me.’ Harry inspects me more closely. ‘Are you absolutely sure?’

  I consider Harry with more care now too. Not that I need to, really. He’s quite a good-looking chap with his chestnut brown hair and deep blue eyes, which are still looking down at me intently. ‘I don’t think so, I’m sure I’d have remembered if we had.’ To my horror, I suddenly realise that I’ve said this out loud, when I very definitely meant to keep it to myself.

  Harry grins. ‘That sounds like a chat-up line.’

  ‘I can assure you it isn’t,’ I reply, furious with myself for blushing.

  But Harry appears to be deep in thought. ‘You said you were an accountant… that rings a bell somewhere… let me think.’ The shop goes silent for a moment and we watch while Harry prowls around. I glance over at George, but he just shrugs.

  ‘I’ve got it!’ Harry suddenly exclaims, swivelling around to face us again. ‘Of course, that’s it. I know your father!’

  ‘How would you know Dad?’ I ask, intrigued by this revelation.

  ‘I went to his sixtieth birthday party,’ Harry explains. ‘The company I used to work for before I went out on my own did a lot of business with your father and I was one of the token industry guests that night. I seem to remember you were very late getting there that evening, weren’t you?’ He raises an accusing eyebrow at me.

  ‘Yes, well. It’s one of the very few times I’ve been late in my life, I can assure you,’ I reply haughtily. ‘Usually I’m a very good timekeeper. My time is very precious to me so I use what little I have wisely.’

  ‘I’m sure you do,’ Harry says, appearing to nod in agreement, but I get the feeling he’s mocking me. ‘But that’s definitely the place I remember you from, that party.’ He smiles.

  I think back to the party. No, I don’t remember Harry being there that night, but he obviously remembers me – how strange. I guess I wasn’t there that long, but even so…

  ‘Anyway,’ Harry announces, ‘don’t let me take up any more of your time. Which, as you kindly pointed out, is very precious to you. I’ve just popped in at George’s request to browse his stock again and have a little chat.’ He turns to George. ‘We’ll catch up in a bit, I’m in no hurry, I’ve got all day…’ He says this easily, but I’m pretty sure he’s aiming his comments at me. ‘Do continue with whatever you were doing before I rudely interrupted you.’ He smiles again, turns his back on us, and begins to thumb through a pile of seventies punk albums.

  I look at George, who just grins at me.

  ‘So, George,’ I say, opening up his accounts book. ‘As I was telling you before we were interrupted a few moments ago, you’ve managed to turn over a healthy profit this year.’

  George nods. ‘I never doubted I would,’ he says, standing up and stretching. ‘This shop’s been in business fifty years this year, and we’ve never turned in a loss in all that time.’

  ‘That’s pretty amazing,’ Harry says, turning around again. ‘Fifty years without a loss. How’d you manage that?’

  I sigh, but George just taps the side of his nose. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know, Mr Hot-Shot Businessman?’

  ‘Ha, I’m hardly that,’ Harry says, sliding the record he’s holding back into the rack. ‘I struggle to make my accounts look as healthy as yours from week to week, let alone year to year.’

  ‘Maybe you should get Jo-Jo to take a look at them?’ George suggests. ‘She’s very good with numbers.’ He turns and winks at me so Harry can’t see.

  Good grief, is that what this is about? Is he trying to set me up with this guy? Has George orchestrated this whole meeting today to get us to go on a date together?

  ‘That’s not a bad idea,’ Harry says, to my horror. ‘What about it, Jo-Jo? Shall we meet up some time and discuss my figures? And just for now, here’s a few to be going on with.’ And to my absolute disbelief he cheesily passes me a business card with his contact details on.

  I stare down at it.

  ‘Er… I’m actually quite busy right now,’ I reply hastily. ‘But I can get one of my associates to give you a call if you like?’

  I’m quite surprised when Harry looks disappointed.

  ‘Sure, yeah, that would be great. If you could.’ He turns and immediately goes back to his examination of a Sex Pistols album.

  For a split second I quite feel sorry for him.

  ‘So, anyway,’ I say to George, ‘I think we’re probably finished now.’ I quickly finish off the last of my tea, suddenly desperate to make a swift exit. I don’t get chatted up very often – if that’s what just happened – and now I feel seriously awkward. ‘It’s been lovely to see you again, George, as always.’ I stand up.

  ‘Jo-Jo, do you have to go already?’ George asks, looking over at Harry who’s still thumbing through records.

  ‘I’m afraid so. I’ll try and call again soon, though.’ I put my mug down on the counter and turn to leave.

  ‘Nice meeting you, Jo-Jo,’ Harry says, turning his head to look at me.

  ‘Yes, likewise,’ I reply politely. ‘You never know, maybe we’ll meet in George’s shop again.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure of it,’ Harry says, and I see him exchange a quick glance with George.

  ‘Right…’ I quickly make a move for the door before either of them has time to say anything else. ‘Goodbye, George,’ I call before I exit. ‘Look after yourself.’

  ‘Don’t you be worrying about me, Jo-Jo. I’m not the one that needs looking after any more,’ George says peculiarly. ‘Watch how you go, young lady. I’ve a feeling I’ll be seeing you sooner than you think.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ I smile. ‘Like I said, I’ll try.’

  George simply nods, and finally I’m able to escape back outside on to the King’s Road.

  I breathe a sigh of relief as I walk back along the pavement towards the crossing. I know George is getting on a bit, but he was behaving very strangely today. And as for trying to set me up with that guy Harry? What was he thinking?

  I allow my thoughts to linger on Harry for a moment. Harry was very good-looking and his thick brown hair and sapphire blue eyes are certainly my type – if I actually have a type. I’ve always been a sucker for a pair of very blue eyes for as long as I can remember. But I certainly don’t want a relation
ship in my life right now. Relationships are always so complicated, and they take up so much time.

  No. I shake my head, it isn’t going to happen. And anyway, what are the chances of me bumping into Harry again? About as likely as all this traffic coming to an immediate halt the minute I step on to the zebra crossing I’m about to arrive at.

  As I stand at the edge of the same crossing I walked over earlier, waiting for the orange beacons to do their stuff, I suddenly feel a hand on my arm and I jump.

  ‘Sorry,’ Harry says as I turn towards the hand, ‘it’s just you left this back in George’s shop.’ He holds up my iPhone.

  ‘How on earth did I manage to do that?’

  ‘Perhaps you put it down with George’s accounts earlier?’ Harry suggests.

  ‘Yes… maybe.’ But I don’t remember taking it from my bag.

  ‘Anyway, you have it back now.’ He turns to leave.

  ‘Thank you,’ I say, ‘it was good of you to chase after me.’

  Harry turns back and I get a flash of just how blue his eyes are now in the bright afternoon sunshine. ‘Any time.’

  I turn and look at the traffic. Is it ever going to stop for me?

  ‘How I asked you out before…’ Harry says, suddenly aware that any moment I’m going to step out on to the crossing and it’ll be too late. ‘That wasn’t really me. I’m just not very good at asking women out, especially attractive ones.’ His cheeks flush a little and his gaze drops down to the ground. ‘And it was the first thing that came into my head.’

  I smile at him; he’s actually quite sweet.

  ‘And I’m guessing it wasn’t the best chat-up line you’ve ever heard?’ he continues, grimacing, as he looks up at me again.

  ‘No,’ I say, omitting to mention it’s been a long time since I’ve heard any sort of a chat-up line, let alone a bad one, so he really shouldn’t be asking my opinion. ‘Perhaps you’d do better just being yourself.’