The Time Bubble Box Set 2

by Jason Ayres

Kent recalled that this was the holiday when Jack had really gained his confidence in the water. Sure enough, soon they were splashing around and Jack didn’t even insist that Kent hold onto him like he had when he was little.

  “Do the shark, do the shark!” urged Jack.

  Ah, yes, the shark, thought Kent. Another thing he had forgotten about with the passing of time. It was the little fun things like the shark that really brought home the joy of being a dad. All too soon the kids had grown up and found such things childish, but now he was able to do it all over again.

  He swam about ten yards away from Jack who was excitedly chanting, “Go, Daddy, go, Daddy, go, Daddy!” He turned around, dived underwater and swam back to his son.

  Just before he reached him, he leapt up out of the water, mouth wide open shouting, “RAAARRGHHH!” to Jack’s squeals of delight.

  “Do it again!” insisted Jack. And he did. About eleven times. His children never seemed to tire of these things. He could have done it a hundred times and they would still be asking for more.

  After about an hour they headed back to the sunbeds to dry off. As he was sitting on the bed he noticed Karl and Susie, two of the entertainment team coming around recruiting for the morning’s activities.

  Kent liked the entertainers at the hotel; they were fun, lively and brilliant with the kids. Admittedly it was all very predictable and formulaic: various pub games and quizzes during the day, then kids’ disco, bingo and karaoke at night, but he didn’t mind. He didn’t want anything too intellectually challenging at the best of times and certainly not while he was on holiday.

  “Are you up for a game of killer pool, Richard?” asked Karl, a fit young lad with short, fair hair and not a scrap of fat on him.

  “Yeah, why not?” he replied. He wasn’t great at pool, as his recent game in The Railway Arms had reminded him, but it would be a laugh. Debs could watch Jack for a bit.

  The pool table was over by the bar, underneath a loose bit of thatched roofing which did little to protect it from the elements. Despite the weathered appearance of the blue baize, it was more than serviceable once they had removed all the leaves and twigs from it.

  Kent looked around to see who else was playing. It was a mix of dads of various ages and a few young lads, about ten people in total.

  His main opposition was two fat blokes in their mid-forties wearing XXXL Chelsea football shirts, one with Terry on the back and one with Lampard. Never had two men looked so out of place in these shirts as these two. It was not even midday yet, but both were sporting full pints of lager and looked like the kind of men who had spent their entire lives in the pub. They would certainly know their way around a pool table.

  Still, maybe they had been fit when they were younger. Kent couldn’t really criticise. He might have been in his thirty-year-old, 32-inch waist body right now, but he would be giving these two a run for their money in the beer gut stakes within another decade.

  Kent was relieved to see he didn’t have to break, remembering his lame effort against Glen that had sent the white straight into the pocket. He had a good draw, just behind one of the younger lads who turned out to be not very good. All of the players had three lives and lost one each time they failed to pot a ball. The lad in front of Kent failed to pot and left him with an easy shot every time.

  By the time Kent lost his first life, only ‘Lampard’ and ‘Terry’ were left. They had been taking it ridiculously seriously, sparking memories in Kent of their behaviour throughout the holiday.

  Every night they had been up onstage collecting prizes and certificates for one activity or another. You would have thought they had won the World Cup the way they showed off and were not happy when they lost. That had happened on the night of the pop quiz when Kent put his extensive knowledge of pop music to good use, beating them into second place.

  And now he was about to do so again. He hadn’t played in this pool match or any of the other activities first time around, so doubtless they had won them before. This time, the prize was to be his, as ‘Terry’ cursed as he missed an easy pot to lose his final life.

  Kent couldn’t believe how easy it had been, he was never this lucky. When he had told the angel to pick the perfect day, perhaps it had known that things would fall his way. Maybe it had even lent a helping hand. Winning a meaningless pool competition on holiday wasn’t the biggest deal in the world, but he had enjoyed playing and it had made him feel happy.

  The two Chelsea fans went off grumbling towards the lunchtime barbecue that was now being served on the other side of the pool. Kent could see the terrible twins in the distance getting their daily Quad Burgers and decided to wait a while. With the two big blue blobs joining the two smaller red blobs, there was unlikely to be much food available for a while.

  After lunch, Luke and Jack both wanted to go to the kids’ club which ran from 2.30 to 4.30. With them out of the way, Kent settled down on the sun lounger next to Debs but he wasn’t to be there long. She turned over on her sunbed and said:

  “Fancy a siesta?” and winked at him. It seemed he wasn’t going to have to wait until the night after all. They went up to their room to enjoy a very sweaty and enjoyable hour or so together, in which Kent was amazed to find he was able to perform twice. He had forgotten how much energy and stamina he used to have: that was definitely something that had declined with age. But there wasn’t any point stressing about it.

  The way he saw it, no matter how healthily or unhealthily people lived their lives, they could not fight the passage of time. A tennis player could win a Grand Slam at thirty, or a footballer could score the winner in an FA Cup Final. By forty, both would be finished. So he shouldn’t feel dispirited any longer about his lost youth and aging body. It was a purely natural process.

  Yes, there were things he could do to lessen the blow, and he was going to make a real effort to live more healthily in the future, but the bare facts were simple. His chronological age in 2018 was forty-two and the time had come to accept that.

  He had taken five trips back through time now, visiting four different decades. He had seen life through his eyes again at the age of seven, seventeen, thirty and thirty-five. Those snapshots had put everything into perspective. He knew now that he was happy with the person he was, and he was ready to move on with the rest of his life.

  He had just one more trip to make and an idea was forming in his mind as to how to best make use of it. Unless the angel was reading his mind right now, this was going to come as a surprise.

  For now, he was going to enjoy the rest of his day. Returning to the pool later in the afternoon, he eagerly joined in the water polo and excelled himself, making the most of his thirty-year-old vigour to score three goals. He didn’t have the Chelsea boys to worry about this time. Water polo was far too strenuous an activity for them. They just watched on from their seats at the bar, well onto their sixth pints of the day.

  After dinner, he delighted in seeing his boys taking part in the mini-disco that always began the evening entertainment. He had often found this sort of thing tedious in the past, but not this time. It was the last chance he was going to get to see his boys doing this sort of thing. In a few short years, a combination of increasing self-awareness and peer pressure would put an end to it. But right now, seeing the two of them doing all the actions to “I am the Music Man”, “Hokey Cokey” and “Cha Cha Slide” made his day.

  The whole time they were up there, they kept looking over to him for reassurance and to check that he was watching. He made sure he caught their eyes and clapped enthusiastically at every opportunity. When Luke came back over he jumped up onto Kent’s lap and said, “I love you, Dad.”

  “You can’t buy that,” said another father sitting at the next table.

  No, you certainly can’t, thought Kent. And to think, when he had started this whole travelling back into time thing, all he had thought about was money. What he had here was worth a million times more than any of that. Yes, he had to go back to his own ti
me when they were teenagers but it was by no means over. Jack and Luke would grow up to have families of their own and when that happened he vowed that he would become the best grandfather in the world.

  There was one final highlight to the evening, the daily awarding of the certificates for the various activities. Kent felt very proud as Luke was called up onto the stage for being the best artist at the kids’ club, followed by Jack who won best dancer at the disco.

  Kent soon followed them, called onto the stage to collect two certificates, one for the pool and one for man of the match at the water polo. He stood proudly on the stage with the boys on either side of him. They held up their certificates, posing for Debs as she took a photo.

  This all happened to the sound of “We Are the Champions” to which everyone sang along, with the exception of the Chelsea boys. They were standing disgruntled at the bar knocking back their eleventh pints of the day. It was a rare day when they had not won anything and they were not happy about it.

  By contrast, up on the stage, Kent was very happy. He could not remember a time he had felt quite as good about life as he did at that moment. Even Tess and Tina coming onto the stage to sing a truly dreadful rendition of “I Will Survive” couldn’t dampen his mood.

  Coming back here for the day had been a good choice. He had come to terms with his past and his present. Now the time had come to think about his future.

  The Next Life

  November 2028

  Not wanting the angel to read his thoughts, Kent focused his mind on one thing and one thing only when he arrived back in the car park.

  Over and over again, he replayed scenes in his mind of the fantastic day when he and his father had gone to Wembley Stadium to watch England play Holland. It was Euro ’96 and England had put on that rarest of things at a major football tournament – a convincing display and a resounding win. It had all been downhill since then, culminating in an utterly humiliating defeat to Iceland in Euro 2016 that left him vowing never to watch England again.

  He had no idea how powerful the angel’s telepathic abilities were. Attempting to shield his thoughts in this way might be about as effective as a man of his dimensions hiding behind a lamp-post. The angel didn’t give any indication that it knew his true intentions as to his final destination, but he wasn’t taking any chances. With a quick farewell, he got away as quickly as possible before he let his guard slip.

  It was early on Friday evening, Kent’s favourite time of the week. Just as he had almost every Friday night since before he got married, he headed straight to The Red Lion for a few pints. It had been his way of relaxing at the end of the working week, but saw no reason why the tradition should not continue. Debs wouldn’t approve, but then she never did.

  It was the end of November and the air was bitingly cold, the sort that suggested snow was on the way, not that there had been much of that in recent years. Debs blamed global warming for the run of mild winters they had been having. Well, if it was global warming, it certainly wasn’t noticeable today, thought Kent. By the time he arrived at the pub his fingers and toes were almost numb with the cold. He was very pleased to take in the welcome sight of the log fire blazing away.

  He wasn’t so pleased to see that Kay was at the bar next to Andy. Could he look her in the face, knowing what the two of them had got up to in another place and another time? He willed himself to man up and just act normally. There was nothing to worry about. Whatever had happened elsewhere, this Kay would be completely unaware of it.

  When he reached the bar, Craig and Andy were embroiled in one of their usual arguments. For once, it wasn’t about the price of the beer or Andy upsetting the other customers, but an altogether more serious matter. The drinkers who treated The Red Lion as if it were their second home were facing the possibility of unwanted change.

  “You can’t leave, mate,” Andy was saying. “It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

  “I’m telling you, I’m through with this place. Just look around you! It’s the last Friday of the month and the place is dead. Everyone got paid today, so where are they? Not in here, that’s for sure.”

  “I’m here. Don’t I spend enough?” asked Andy.

  “Yes, that goes without saying. Why do you think I keep letting you back in here when you’re barred from most of the other pubs in town? If I had another dozen like you, then I might survive, even if they were all pains in the arse, but your sort are a dying breed. No offence.”

  “Well thanks very much,” said Andy, looking very much offended. “Now we know where we stand. And there I was thinking we were mates.”

  “The pub trade is finished, Andy. People just aren’t coming out like they used to. The world’s changed and it’s time to face facts. Once your generation dies off that will be the end of it. As soon as I can find someone to take over the lease, I’m out of here.”

  He turned to Kent, who had been listening to this whilst waiting patiently at the bar. “Usual, Richard?”

  Kay and Andy hadn’t seen him sidle up quietly to the bar, but they both made a beeline for him now.

  She looked at him, her drunken, bloodshot eyes devoid of any of the passion and fire of the eighteen-year-old girl she had once been. It was still a strange sensation, seeing her after all that had happened. But this was not the same Kay, a different person in a different time. She had no intimate knowledge of him and they had no shared past.

  This was probably for the best. If she had any memory of their past, it would only encourage her to keep trying it on with him and he didn’t want to think of this version of her in that way at all. Not only that, it might also get back to Debs who would no doubt come down to the pub and knock her remaining teeth out.

  He was finding this whole situation extremely painful to deal with. He no longer felt repulsed by her, as he had before, just saddened. To see this woman, once so vibrant and full of hopes and dreams, reduced to this sorry state was quite heartbreaking.

  “Hello, darling,” she said drunkenly. “I’ve missed you.”

  He was lost for words, really not sure how to reply, but he didn’t have to. Andy came to his rescue and intervened. Normally Andy’s interruptions were a nuisance, but on this occasion he was grateful.

  “Tell this idiot he can’t leave,” said Andy. “If he goes, what will happen then? This place will get taken over and ruined like all the others. Where will we drink then?”

  For once, Kent was in total agreement with Andy. This was the only decent pub in the town left. If it ended up turning into another Italian bistro, or even worse, a coffee shop, there would be nowhere left for them to go.

  “Surely things can’t be that bad, Craig?” asked Kent.

  “Look, how many times have we had this conversation recently? Do you want me to carry on until I’m totally bankrupt and get chucked out onto the streets?”

  “I’d take it over if I had the money,” said Andy.

  “You’d drink all the profits,” replied Craig. “Not that there are any these days.”

  “I’ll make it worth your while if you stay,” said Kay, suggestively.

  “Thanks, but I’ll pass if it’s all the same with you.”

  It was clear that Craig’s mind was made up. Despite the three of them presenting a rare united front to try and persuade him to stay, they had to face the likelihood that the days of having Craig at the helm were numbered.

  Would the pub still be there in the future? Was it doomed to disappear like all the others? Kent might be able to find out, if the angel agreed to his proposal for the following day.

  He had considered at great length what he was going to say when he returned to the car park for his final trip on Saturday afternoon. As before, he shielded those thoughts as he approached their meeting point, concentrating again on the England game from Euro ’96.

  “Here we are then,” said the angel, cheerfully. “Five down, one to go. How do you feel it has all gone?”

  “It’s been brilliant,” said Kent,
which it honestly had been. He really was feeling much better about everything now. Thoughts of suicide were long behind him and if this final trip worked out, he might well feel even better.

  Elaborating, he added, “I’ve settled a few old scores, relived some great moments and I really feel ready to move on with my life now. I know I seemed a bit angry and resentful when things didn’t go exactly as planned at first, and I apologise for that. But now, it’s all good.”

  “That was all part of the learning curve,” said the angel. “Most people take a few trips to get the hang of it, that’s why I offered you six. It seems to be about the right number for most people.”

  “I agree,” said Kent. “One more and I’ll be happy.” With that remark, he focused his thoughts once again on the memory of Alan Shearer slotting in England’s second goal.

  “Let me guess, Euro ’96?” asked the angel.

  So you aren’t all-powerful after all, thought Kent. His efforts to shield his thoughts had been successful. Who would have thought a mere mortal like him could have outwitted it?

  “Actually, no,” said Kent, relaxing the hold on his mind to allow his true intentions to come to the fore. The angel instantly picked up on them.

  “Oh, no, that’s highly irregular,” said the angel. “I couldn’t allow that.”

  “Why not?” replied Kent.

  “Well, no one’s ever asked for that before. And anyway, that wasn’t part of the deal.”

  “Are you sure about that?” asked Kent. “You clearly stated that I could visit any day of my life that I wanted to. You never actually specified that it had to be in the past.”

  “No, I didn’t, but it must have been pretty clear what I meant. Why do you think I set Universe 2.0 up for you?”

  “So I couldn’t make changes to history,” replied Kent. “But that won’t matter in the future, will it? Nothing I do there is going to change anything in the here and now, is it?”

  “What if you don’t like what you see in the future?” replied the angel. “What’s to stop you taking a different path once you get back here to 2018? You could alter future history.”