Step Back in Time

by Ali McNamara

  The staffroom has all but emptied now as the other teachers head back to their classes.

  ‘Look, we’d better go or we’ll be late,’ Harry says, moving towards the door which he holds open for me. ‘And you can’t afford to be late twice in one day. I saw you earlier, racing across the playground with Ellie.’

  ‘Ah, that,’ I say as I walk down the corridor with him. ‘Yes, not the most elegant of entrances for a teacher, ripping off a sweatshirt while running across a netball court.’

  ‘A Take That sweatshirt too,’ he grins.

  ‘Don’t remind me.’

  ‘But I thought you and Ellie were super fans? I half imagine you camping outside the band’s hotel when they’re in town?’

  ‘I hardly think so!’ At least, I hope we don’t do that.

  ‘Good. I’m glad you’re not that bad!’ Harry stops walking outside a classroom door. ‘Would you still like a regular lift home now I’m back for another term?’

  ‘Yes, I guess so.’

  ‘I’ll pick you up in the car park after school then, usual place.’

  ‘Sure,’ I say, as he enters his classroom and greets his pupils. I’ll find it, I think as he smiles at me and closes the door. But all I can think, as I hurry back along to my own class of eager children, waiting for me to impart more knowledge to them is:

  He’s married.

  This time my Harry is married…

  Thirty-Six

  The rest of day passes without too many problems, and I manage to continue the role of teacher fairly successfully, without getting myself into detention for bad behaviour.

  In fact, I’m quite enjoying it.

  They’re a bright bunch, my lot, once you work out the best way of getting through to them, and by the end of the day we may not have quite covered everything the National Curriculum suggests, but I think they’ve learnt plenty.

  While I’m gathering my things from my locker, Ellie comes into the staffroom to do the same.

  ‘Fancy coming round to mine now to watch some videos?’ she asks in a hushed voice.

  I wonder what sort of videos she means.

  ‘I’ve got Live & Kicking from last Saturday recorded if you want to see it?’

  Wasn’t Live & Kicking a kids programme?

  ‘Apparently Robbie is looking really hot on it.’

  Take That again.

  ‘No, I can’t tonight. Besides, Harry is giving me a lift home.’

  Ellie looks surprised. ‘You’re not going to start that up again, are you?’

  ‘What do you mean – start it up again? He’s giving me a lift, that’s all.’

  ‘You know what happened last time when he was giving you lifts?’

  I stare at her blankly.

  ‘Are you still denying anything went on?’ Ellie asks, her eyes wide. ‘I can’t believe the two of you still do that.’

  ‘Perhaps because it’s true?’ I reply defensively. I have no idea what Ellie is talking about, but I bet whatever it is, her facts are wrong.

  ‘His wife doesn’t think so,’ Ellie says knowingly.

  ‘That’s her problem, isn’t it?’ I bang my locker door shut; it’s so frustrating not knowing anything all the time. ‘I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  ‘Aw, Jo-Jo,’ Ellie calls to my departing figure, ‘don’t be like that. I didn’t mean anything! Tell you what, I’ll bring you that recording of the boys on The Hit Man and Her I’ve been promising you for ages to make up for it.’

  ‘Great,’ I reply, putting on a fake smile. ‘You do that.’

  I feel uneasy as I hurry down the school corridor. Suddenly this car journey seems like it could be fraught with difficulties. What’s supposed to have happened between us? Maybe I shouldn’t be accepting a lift from Harry after all.

  But Harry is already waiting for me in a pale blue Fiat Uno when I arrive in the car park, so I climb into the passenger seat next to him and pull on my seat belt.

  ‘How was your day?’ Harry asks as we pull out of the school gates.

  ‘Good, thanks. Not as tough as I thought it was going to be when I first arrived this morning anyway.’

  Ain’t that the truth!

  ‘Yeah, Year 3 can be a tough age to teach.’ Harry reaches to turn the radio on. ‘Not this again,’ he says as the familiar opening bars of Wet Wet Wet singing ‘Love Is All Around’ float through the car. ‘I thought they’d banned this from being played on the radio?’

  ‘Didn’t they just stop making the record available to purchase?’ I say, remembering reading something about this iconic nineties tune somewhere.

  ‘I think they’ve tried everything,’ Harry grumbles. ‘And yet I still keep hearing it.’

  ‘Have you seen the film it came from, Four Weddings and a Funeral?’ I ask to make conversation.

  Harry allows his eyes to flicker away from the windscreen for a moment. ‘You know I have. I bumped into you and Ellie at the cinema when I was there watching it with my wife.’

  ‘So you did! Silly me, it slipped my mind.’ I quickly turn away and pretend to look out of the passenger window.

  ‘She moaned the whole way through that movie,’ Harry continues after a pause. ‘I think she wanted to go and see Arnie in True Lies that night, but I wanted to see that one – probably why I hate the song now. Love definitely wasn’t all around for us that night, that’s for sure.’

  I look back at him and try to nod in a sympathetic fashion.

  ‘Things aren’t too good then, between you and your wife?’ I ask hesitantly. This is so difficult – I don’t know how much I’m supposed to know.

  ‘Jo-Jo, you know they’re not.’ Harry doesn’t look at me this time. ‘Patricia and I just seem to be growing further and further apart these days.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ I don’t really know what else to say. What Ellie said before is still niggling at me, and not knowing exactly what I’m dealing with here is damned hard.

  ‘And if she sees you in my car,’ Harry says as he pulls to a halt at the end of a cul-de-sac of houses, ‘life will be even more painful when I get in tonight, so is it OK if I drop you here?’ he asks, nodding his head in the direction of the pavement outside.

  ‘Yes, that’s fine, thanks.’ How on earth I’m supposed to find where I live is a different matter – but that’s my issue.

  ‘I’ll see you Monday, then,’ Harry says as I climb from the car. ‘Pick you up just round the corner, in front of the phone box like we used to? I quite like these two-day weeks that end on a Friday. Joy of a new term, eh?’

  I nod hesitantly.

  ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ he asks. ‘About the lift? I mean if you’re uncomfortable after… well, you know? We don’t have to.’

  ‘No, I’m fine. This is fine. Lifts are fine.’ I grin a bit manically, in an effort to hide my discomfort.

  ‘Good.’ Harry looks at me a bit oddly. ‘Well, I’ll see you Monday, then.’

  ‘Bye,’ I call as I close the door, and he drives further down into a neat and tidy close of modern brick-built semi-detached houses.

  What is this thing between us? I wonder as I look around me now, and wonder which one of these houses is mine. Did we have an affair?

  ‘Jo-Jo, it is you?’ An elderly lady appears from her house carrying a cardboard box. ‘They tried to deliver this for you earlier,’ she says, hurrying down her drive, patting her white hair as she comes towards me. ‘But when I told them you were out, they said it was OK to leave it with a neighbour.’

  Ah, so I live in one of these houses, do I? I think, looking either side of my neighbour’s house. Not bad, but how do I afford this on a teacher’s salary? These houses look quite big. Do I live with someone else?

  ‘Thank you,’ I say, taking the parcel from her and wondering what it might be. ‘Very kind of you.’

  ‘No trouble, my dear. I used to do the same for your mother – God rest her soul,’ she says, crossing herself. ‘I still miss her, you know.’

 
‘Yes… we all do.’ My mother has passed away this time? How very sad for this Jo-Jo. I think again about my own real mother, and feel that same pull in the centre of my stomach I felt in 1977 when Penny hugged me.

  ‘But having you here now does make up for it a little bit. It’s like a small piece of her is still here with us in Apple Close.’

  ‘That’s good.’

  ‘I’m so glad you decided to stay on in her house and not sell it. We’ve had some, how can I put it?’ She leans in towards me. ‘Less than desirable people moving into the close lately, and you being here is an added bonus.’

  ‘Why thank you, that’s kind of you to say.’

  ‘It’s no trouble, my dear. As you know, me and Mr Sullivan are here for you any time you need us.’ She pats me softly on the arm. ‘Talking of which, I’d best be getting back indoors, I’m cooking a nice steak and kidney pie for our tea, and then me and Mr Sullivan are going to watch a bit of Animal Hospital with little Rolf Harris, then Pets Win Prizes with that Dale Winton. Prefer him on Supermarket Sweep myself, but Mr Sullivan’s big on animal shows.’

  ‘Very nice,’ I agree, smiling at her.

  She turns to go. ‘Before I forget,’ she says, turning back immediately, ‘Mr Sullivan says he’ll come and take a look at your guttering over the weekend.’ She points up at the roof of the house to her right. ‘He says some of it looks a little loose and you don’t want that coming adrift once the winter sets in.’

  ‘Sure, Mrs Sullivan, that would be great. Thank you.’

  ‘No trouble, my dear,’ she says with a wave of her hand as she begins to shuffle back down her drive. ‘Like I say, we’re here for you any time, day or night!’

  So this is my new home, I think, looking up at a red brick semi, with a large bay window and a navy blue front door. As I walk down the gravel drive carrying my parcel, I feel inside my bag, hoping I’ll find a set of keys, and luckily I do. After a bit of trial and error when I reach the door, I manage to work out which key of the many on my Friends key ring will allow me to go inside.

  My new home, in which I can’t find any reason to suggest that I live other than alone, has a kitchen diner, a lounge, and a small cloakroom downstairs, and three bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs. It’s pleasantly decorated, bright and sunny in places, and seems perfectly acceptable for my usual short stay – which I’m hoping this is going to be.

  I need to take a trip to see George and find out what he knows this time. I glance at my watch. His shop won’t be open now, so it will have to wait until tomorrow. I look over at the parcel Mrs Sullivan has given me, still sitting unwrapped on the lounge coffee table, and I wonder what’s inside? Only one way to find out, I suppose, so I go over and begin ripping off the brown packaging.

  Inside, in amongst the foam packaging chips I find five more boxes, and inside them, five dolls. ‘Take That dolls?’ I exclaim, looking down at the boxes which proudly announce Official Take That Merchandise. ‘Are you kidding me? Why would I order these?’

  The dolls, of course, look nothing like any of the members of Take That, not unless I have a very bad memory, or I’m in a parallel universe where Take That all look like a very tanned and stoned Justin Bieber.

  ‘Blimey, I really must be a huge fan,’ I say to myself as I stare down at the dolls, all grinning back up at me from their boxes. When I was wandering around the house I saw the odd Take That poster, a few postcards pinned on the kitchen noticeboard, and obviously all their CDs stacked up near a CD player in the lounge, but I thought that was fairly mild, nothing too major I couldn’t deal with. But this! I look down at the dolls again, then hurriedly put them back in the cardboard box and shut the lid. They just freak me out.

  What should I do now? Just like in 2013 it doesn’t seem by the look of my fridge that I’m a very adventurous cook, so I guess I’ll have to go out for some supplies or get a takeaway dinner. I look out of the window; it’s a bright sunny September evening, so I decide I’ll take a walk.

  After I wash away the schooly feeling that, even as a teacher, I still seem to have picked up, I change my clothes – and even that’s quite stressful, when it appears that 80 per cent of my wardrobe consists of official Take That tour T-shirts and hoodies. But I finally leave the blue front door again wearing baggy jeans, a plain white T-shirt and a black waistcoat, teamed with plain black lace-up Doc Marten boots, which I feel looks quite cool for the time – at least, I hope it does.

  As I get to the bottom of Apple Close I realise that I have no idea where I am in London. I’m just about to step out and cross the road in the direction of the tube station I remember passing with Harry earlier when I hear a shout from across the road.

  ‘Hey, Jo-Jo, wait-up! I was just coming over to see you.’

  I look over towards the voice and see a young man in his mid-twenties with short blond hair, spiked at the front. He dashes across the road and, as he gets close to me, I realise he’s got piercing blue eyes too.

  ‘Hi,’ I say cheerfully, hoping this is a suitable response. He seems very pleased to see me.

  ‘Hey, I was just coming over to your house, babe.’

  ‘Were you?’ I look at his clothing suspiciously. He’s wearing huge black baggy jeans, a pink Burberry check waistcoat, and a lime green T-shirt.

  ‘Don’t mind this,’ he says, gesturing at his outfit. ‘I’m just off to the World’s End to do my act. I’m calling myself Billy Vanilli this time around – what do you think?’

  ‘That’s very good. Catchy.’

  He narrows his eyes doubtfully. ‘Anyway, I thought since you were near I’d call in on you first and discuss our plans.’

  ‘Plans?’

  ‘For the gigs, babe?’ he says, looking shocked now. ‘I’ve already been in touch with Ellie and she reckons we can find out where they’re staying and infiltrate the hotel if we work as a team.’

  I stare blankly at him.

  ‘What is wrong with you tonight, Jo-Jo? I’d have thought you’d have been well up for this. You’re usually bored once you go back to school.’

  A car pulls out of the top of Apple Close now; it’s Harry’s, and he waves casually at me before he turns and drives off in the opposite direction from where Billy and I are standing.

  ‘So now I see what’s distracting you,’ Billy says approvingly. ‘Nice choice, babe, I’d quite go for him myself, but he’s obviously not that way inclined if he’s on your radar!’

  ‘Billy! I don’t know what you mean? Harry is just a teacher at my school, and he’s also my neighbour.’ I pray that Billy is actually his name and not simply a stage name.

  ‘Now I know something is wrong with you.’ Billy plonks his hands on his hips. ‘You never ever call me Billy.’

  ‘I don’t?’

  ‘No, you always shorten it to Bill – you say Billy sounds like one of your pupils’ names.’

  ‘Did Ellie tell you about the accident when you spoke to her?’ I ask, hoping to change the subject.

  ‘Yeah, she did say something about an incident with you and a car. Oh my, are you all right, babe?’ He thrusts his hand to my forehead.

  ‘Yes, I’m fine, but maybe that’s why I seem a bit off tonight.’

  ‘Of course, babe.’ He grabs me, and suddenly I find myself surrounded by pink Burberry check as Billy wraps his surprisingly strong arms around me. ‘Billy is sorry. I think I’m probably a tad on edge too, what with my new set tonight.’

  I ease myself gently from his grip.

  ‘Why don’t I come and listen to you then?’ I ask, thinking I haven’t been to the World’s End in a while and it’s near to where I always get hit by the white car before I jump through time; maybe it has some relevance to this whole process?

  ‘Would you, babe? Ooh, that would be fab!’ He claps his hands in glee and gives me a quick once-over. ‘You’re not really dressed for a night out, are you, though?’ he says, looking with disdain at my waistcoat. ‘But I guess you’ll do!’

  Thirty-Seven
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br />   The World’s End pub, surprisingly, hasn’t changed that much since the first time I was in it in 1963. The décor has improved somewhat, but the general layout is still the same.

  While Billy heads off to get ready for his set later, I find a seat at the bar next to a tall vase of sunflowers, and wait to be served. Good, they now serve food here, I think, picking up a menu on the bar. I haven’t eaten since lunchtime and I’m starving. I opt for a burger and chips, and order a Diet Coke to go with it. As I sit and look around the pub, I realise for the first time since I’ve been time travelling that this doesn’t feel so odd; the setting, the food, the drink, it’s not that different from what I’m used to at all.

  I’m getting closer to home…

  ‘Jo-Jo,’ a familiar voice says next to me. ‘I wondered when you’d be back again.’

  ‘George!’ I nearly fall off the bar stool in my rush to hug him. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I’ve told you before, I often come in here after work to listen to music.’

  ‘My friend Billy is singing,’ I say. ‘Well, at least I think that’s what he’s doing.’

  I look at George while he heaves himself up on to the stool next to me. It’s only nine years since I last saw him, but he’s aged significantly. His hair is completely grey now and the clothes he’s wearing are no longer up-to-the minute fashion, but much more practical items, in neutral colours and hardwearing fabrics, like corduroy and heavy-duty cotton. He has nearly become the George I know and love from 2013.

  ‘Ah yes, your friend Billy, I’ve seen him here before. He’s quite something.’

  ‘Is he? In what way?’

  ‘You wait and see,’ George grins.

  ‘Usual, George?’ the barman asks, coming over.

  ‘Yes please, Jude.’

  The barman’s name is Jude? The Beatles again!

  ‘Coming right up,’ Jude says, grabbing a pint glass and pulling on the Guinness pump. ‘Your food shouldn’t be too long, miss,’ he says, smiling at me.

  ‘That’s fine, thank you. So,’ I ask eagerly, looking at George, ‘what am I doing here this time? All I know is I appear to be the world’s biggest Take That fan.’ I lean in further towards him and whisper, ‘I only bought the dolls, all five of them!’