by Jason Ayres
Or she could make a bucket list of things to do, like seeing the midnight sun. The only restriction was she only had one day to make these things happen, but you could do a lot in one day, provided it didn’t involve anything on the other side of the world.
There may have been limitations on travel due to time, but there were no such restrictions where money was concerned. Anything expensive could go on a credit card that would never need to be paid off.
Those were all positive ideas, but she had darker thoughts, too, invariably involving Alan. What would it feel like to kill him? She found herself picturing the shocked expression on his face as she plunged a carving knife into his chest. Could she really bring herself to do something like that?
No, she couldn’t, but she could sure as hell humiliate him in some way. Her mind mused over the possibilities. Jilt him at the altar? Expose his infidelities? All these ideas were satisfying in one way or another, but would they really be worth it? Was petty revenge really what she wanted to do with her days? She was better than that, wasn’t she? Surely there must be better ways of utilising her time.
There were so many possibilities that she was finding it difficult to narrow them down into anything concrete. The angel had said six days were enough, but were they? Kay could easily have thought of sixty things to do if she had put her mind to it. Perhaps she needed to try and combine some of her ideas in some sort of time-travelling multitasking.
Maybe she could right a wrong, live out a missed experience and make some positive contribution to her own future all in the same day if she picked the right day. She had done a pretty good job with it already in the current day. If she could build on that, then she had a very interesting few days ahead of her.
She found it frustrating that she couldn’t do anything to change history, but she could see the angel’s point on that. She knew all about paradoxes from the time travel films she had seen. If she changed the past so she didn’t end up in the flat in the chip shop, then she would never have ended up in the depressing mess that had brought the angel to her door in the first place.
Not being able to take anything back into the past or forward into the future was also very restrictive, but that rule only applied to physical things. It didn’t apply to her knowledge. She already had the benefit of hindsight when travelling to the past, which allowed her to make the most of her trips back, but could it work the other way?
Was there anything she could find out in the past that she could utilise to make a difference to her present or the future? The angel hadn’t said anything about that. As far as Kay was concerned, the future was still a blank page yet to be written and she alone had the ability to change it. She couldn’t see that the angel could have any objection, having already stated that she had come to help her get out of the rut she was in.
So what could Kay do in the past to help herself? What secrets could she uncover that might enable her to alter her circumstances going forward?
She thought back to some of the great unsolved mysteries of the past. What if she could go back to Whitechapel in the 1880s and unmask Jack the Ripper? Even if she could, would anyone in the present believe her? Or would it just be dismissed as another crackpot theory to add to the dozens that had gone before it.
What about financial gain? Could she go back to 1945 and find out where Hitler’s legendary gold train really ended up at the end of the war? Or indeed if it even existed. It would be a pretty tall order to find all this out in one day in the middle of a war zone.
These were mere flights of fancy and she quickly realised that she could not do either of these things. She could only revisit days within her own lifetime, so anything before the mid-1970s was completely off-limits to her. In fact, anything before about 1990 would be pretty useless when she thought about it. She would not be able to achieve much as a child with little money or freedom.
There were other cases, more recent, that she could potentially investigate, but where would they get her? She thought back over some high-profile cases of the past few decades. There were children who had vanished in mysterious circumstances, never to be seen again. Then there were the high-profile deaths of people in the public eye, many of them murdered with the perpetrators never found. Who really had killed them?
All the details of where and when these incidents had taken place were well documented. It would certainly be possible for her to be at the scene of the crime, particularly those that had taken place in the UK.
But was it really worth it? She could go back to the exact date and time of a major crime and solve it, but what then? Go to the police fifteen years later claiming she knew who had done it, with no physical evidence to back up what she was doing? At best she would not be believed or labelled as a crank. At worst, the real killers could get wind of what she was doing and decide to make her the next target.
And other than the slim prospect of some reward money if anyone did take any notice of her, what was in it for her? No, she was going to have to abandon this line of thinking for the moment. It wasn’t going anywhere.
It seemed that she wasn’t making much progress with her plans, so she decided to put them on hold for the time being and concentrate on the day in hand. Already the plane was beginning its descent into Helsinki, so she needed to get her act together and sort out the next leg of the journey.
It was gone midday local time when the plane touched down. Clearing passport control was no problem, but when she got to the baggage carousel, there was no sign of any activity. This was going to hold her up further – or was it?
No, it wasn’t. As she stood waiting by the stationary carousel, she suddenly realised that she didn’t need the rucksack. She reminded herself that she was here for a day, not for the whole three months. So what need did she have to cart around three months of clothes and several heavy guidebooks all day?
All she needed was what was in her handbag and her duty-free bag containing the two bottles she had bought at Heathrow. By the time her rucksack made it onto the carousel, she would be long gone. It could travel round and round to its heart’s content. Every time she flew, there always seemed to be one sad little piece of luggage nobody wanted left behind. Today, it might as well be hers.
Leaving the rucksack proved to be a wise choice. She sailed through Customs and back out into the main part of the airport. She headed straight for the check-in desks to investigate the availability of domestic flights.
She was in luck. There was a flight to Rovaniemi at 3.55pm and there were seats available. She had been pretty confident that there would be. After all, the angel had said the trip was achievable, suggesting she must have known about this flight. Kay had plenty of time. So she could have retrieved her rucksack after all, but it didn’t matter. She would travel much lighter without it.
Everything went smoothly with the second flight. Just after 6pm she emerged from Rovaniemi Airport into the bright evening sunshine. She had made it with nearly six hours to spare!
She had expected it to be cold this far north but it was surprisingly warm, like a pleasant early summer’s day in England. The sun was low in the sky, as if sunset was not far away, but she knew that not to be the case. She remembered from watching speeded-up film on the television that close to the Poles in summer the sun stayed close to the horizon, doing a complete circle of the skyline over the course of a day.
She took a taxi into the town, wondering how to make the most of the hours ahead. She was very hungry and made finding some food her first priority. She soon found a lovely, old-fashioned-looking café overlooking the river and decided to stop for a bite to eat.
The proprietors did not speak any English and her Finnish dictionary was back in Helsinki in her rucksack. So she took pot luck ordering from the menu and chose something called lihapullat which turned out to be a delicious dish of traditional Finnish meatballs in gravy.
Later she walked around the town, finding a lively bar packed with young people. Remembering that she was now one o
f them again, not the middle-aged drunk that the young people of her own town avoided, she ordered a drink and got chatting to a group of young Finnish people.
Unlike the old couple who ran the café, most of these people had a reasonable grasp of English. Perhaps that was a generational thing. She told them all about her trip and asked where the best place was to see the midnight sun. They directed her to a place called Ounasvaara Fell, just outside the town.
Bidding her new friends farewell, she followed their instructions and headed for the fell. It took her nearly an hour to climb to the peak, by which time it was after 11pm. The sun was very close to the horizon now, but it was still broad daylight outside and still warm. She sat herself down at the peak and took in the glorious view of the town below her basking in the late-night sun.
Cracking open her vodka, she took a swig and sat contentedly, just watching the sun as it travelled along the skyline. This had been an amazing day and it had left her feeling fulfilled for the first time in years. It didn’t matter that it was only a copy of her own universe and that soon she would have to go back to her older self. The point was she was here now and living in a moment that had been taken away from her once before. This time, she was really here, and this was really happening at last.
As her watch reached midnight, a feeling of euphoria and triumph flooded through her. She uncorked the champagne, and swigged from the bottle like a Grand Prix driver on the top of a podium, even if the bottle didn’t quite have the same dimensions as one of Lewis Hamilton’s.
She feared that she might be whisked away at that precise moment, back to the flat in 2018, but nothing happened. She continued to watch the sun, swig her champagne and muse about her life. There was no one else up on top of the fell. She was completely alone, enjoying her own special moment in this special place. Right then she felt as if the whole world belonged completely to her. In a way, it did, for this world would soon cease to exist, and only she would go on.
Later she felt tired, and lay down on the grass to rest. She could quite happily have drifted off to sleep right there and then and never woken up again. It wouldn’t have been a bad time to go. The day had given her a sense of completion and at least she would have died happy.
But it wasn’t time to go yet. Her trip to the midnight sun had given her plenty to think about. Most importantly, during that last hour while she was enjoying her champagne, she had worked out exactly where and when she wanted to go next.
Chapter Six
December 2018
Kay wasn’t sure how long she had been asleep but suddenly she found herself back in the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror. It was an odd sensation. She didn’t feel like she had just woken up and nor did she feel tired. Her return was instantaneous, almost as if she had been placed back into her body exactly when and where she had left it.
“Feels weird, doesn’t it?” said the angel. “Most people feel a bit disorientated at first. I call it time travel jetlag. You may have been in the past for a whole day, but here, no time has passed at all.”
“That’s handy,” replied Kay. “As I’m actually due in work this morning, and I can’t afford to lose this job. I don’t think they would need much excuse for sacking me, and failing to turn up on the last Saturday before Christmas would see me out on my ear for sure.”
“Well, best you get yourself off to work, then,” replied the angel.
“What about my next voyage to the past?” asked Kay. “I’m getting a taste for this now.”
“I find it works best if I let people have a twenty-four-hour break between trips,” replied the angel. “It gives them a chance to reflect on where they’ve been and plan properly for the next one.”
“That seems sensible enough,” said Kay. “I’ve got something in mind, but there’s someone I’m hoping to talk to first before I go. What I am planning to do in the past directly involves him.”
“There you are, then,” said the angel. “Get yourself all prepared then you can make the most of your time when you go back. Before I say goodbye for today, how did you feel your first trip went?”
“It went brilliantly!” exclaimed Kay. “Exactly as I hoped, and I even got to see that ex-worm of my husband snivelling and grovelling like the big baby he is and always was.”
“Fantastic,” said the angel. “Well, I must pop off and let you get ready for work now. I will see you back here again the same time tomorrow morning.”
As soon as she had spoken, the angel’s image was replaced by that of Kay’s own current self. It wasn’t a pretty picture and a solemn reminder that she wasn’t the beautiful, young version of herself that she had so enjoyed being again over the previous twenty-four hours.
Not wanting to gaze at her undesirable current appearance any longer than absolutely necessary, she hurriedly brushed her remaining teeth and headed back into the bedroom to get dressed. It was still freezing cold. She was going to have to speak to the landlord about it.
That was not a conversation she was looking forward to, but she had no choice. She would freeze to death up here if the weather stayed like it was. There would not be time to track him down this morning. It was five to nine and she needed to rush or she would be late for work.
There was no one in the chip shop downstairs anyway, but there never was at that time in the morning. She let herself out and walked the couple of hundred yards or so to the store as quickly as she dared on the icy ground. She arrived with seconds to spare and headed out the back to put on her overalls. It was going to be a busy day. The shop would be full of mums and dads buying last-minute Christmas presents and she would be rushed off her feet delivering the orders.
Half past five couldn’t come soon enough. As soon as the store closed, she was out of the door and heading home. On her way back she psyched herself up ready to confront her landlord about her heating and hot water. She knew from past experience it was unlikely to be a cordial conversation.
As soon as she approached the shop doorway, she spotted him. She could hardly miss him, sweaty mound of middle-aged blubber that he was. Entering the chippy, she could see that he was berating one of the younger members of staff, a friendly, young Eastern European girl called Anna who had served Kay several times in recent weeks.
“Do I make myself clear?” she heard McVie saying in his familiar Scottish twang. “Do I have to get a fucking Polish dictionary and write it down for you? It’s two scoops of chips per portion, not three. Are you trying to put me out of business? You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Then you can get all your family to come over here and take over my shop, just like your lot are taking over the rest of this country.”
The poor girl nodded her understanding, seemingly on the verge of tears. Turning away, McVie caught sight of Kay, who was standing horrified at the racist abuse she had just witnessed. Trying to keep her composure, she spoke quietly.
“Mr McVie, could I have a quick word, please?”
“Well, well, look what the cat’s dragged in,” replied McVie. “I’ve been waiting for you. I think it’s the other way round, don’t you? It’s about time I was having some serious words with you. I suggest we go up to the flat.”
The thought of having this revolting excuse for a human being up in her flat wasn’t a pleasant one, but since she was going to have to show him the malfunctioning heating she didn’t have a lot of choice. She unlocked the door and made her way up, hearing his heavy footsteps on the stairs behind her, and his wheezing as he grew short of breath after three or four steps.
“Nice arse,” he commented. “Shame about the face. Still you don’t look at the mantelpiece when you’re stoking the fire, do you?” He started guffawing loudly, as if he had just made the best joke in the world.
She had heard both these phrases before, on some ancient sitcom she had watched one night on ITV4. His pathetic attempts at sexist humour belonged in the past, along with his racist remarks to Anna. Ignoring the temptation to say something in retaliation, she tried to tak
e the initiative as he dragged his flabby frame up the stairs and into her room.
“I’ll come straight to the point,” she said. “My heating and hot water have stopped working.”
“I already know,” he said, with a grin on his face that she didn’t like the look of one bit. “It was me who turned them off.”
“Why?” she said. “You can’t do that.”
“I can do whatever I like if you don’t pay the rent,” he said. “It was due three days ago, and your direct debit was declined by your bank. Pay up, and I’ll turn the heating back on.”
“I don’t have the money,” said Kay, softly. “I haven’t been paid yet. You expect a thousand a month for this flat and it’s daylight robbery.”
“That’s the going rate, my love,” replied McVie. He was standing uncomfortably close to her and the smell of his body odour mixed in with the all-pervading fishy smell that had permeated his clothes was overpowering. On top of that there was his breath which was seriously rank.
“Let me tell you,” he continued. “There are two types of people in this town these days. Those who own property, like me. And those who don’t, like you. It’s all a case of supply and demand. If you don’t want to pay the market rate, there are plenty of desperate mugs out there that will.”
“A thousand pounds might be the going rate for a decent flat, but look at the state of this place. Nothing works properly, you never do any maintenance, and as for health and safety, you must be joking. I’d like to know what the authorities would have to say about it. Where’s the smoke alarm? Where’s the gas safety certificate?”
She stopped as McVie advanced towards her, a look of pure menace in his eyes. For a moment she feared he was going to attack her.
“Don’t try getting clever with me, missy,” he said, “or your feet won’t touch the floor. You owe me money, and if it’s not paid by Christmas Eve then it’ll be the electricity I’ll be cutting off next. You’ll be cooking your turkey by candlelight. If you can even afford one, that is.”
