Ahead of his Time

by Adrian Cousins

  No, this time, it would be with her grandmother – even worse.

  43

  3rd February 1977

  Wacky-Backy

  After I arrived at Jenny’s parents’ on Monday evening, we didn’t stay long. Jenny could tell my mind was somewhere else and knew I desperately wanted to talk to her about my meeting with Jess.

  John was very supportive and told us not to worry. Shirley Colney was all-mouth, as he put it, and he’d have a word with a few of the boys at the station who could put the squeeze on the Colneys. Of course, he didn’t know what I now knew and, he had no idea of the added complication that I’d killed David Colney.

  Even if I could avoid the potential prison sentence if I came clean about David’s demise, it would surely be enough to suggest Jenny and I were not fit parents for Christopher and Beth. Keeping under wraps the events of that day last September was crucial, which meant I couldn’t get any official support to hold off the impending doom of what Shirley and Paul had planned.

  I concluded Shirley Colney was intelligent and calculating. That skill I don’t believe she passed to any of her four boys, as I knew David hadn’t shown those attributes and Paul certainly didn’t. Whatever hellish dick-dastardly plans they had in store for my family and me, Paul Colney would be itching to get on with it.

  Jenny and I agreed to stay with Don for a couple of days. We could get away without telling anyone, and it would give us a little bit of time to think about our next move. Don, as always, was so supportive. Apart from the time-travel situation, we were able to talk freely with him about our dilemma without the terrifying thought of Paul or Shirley knocking on the door. Christopher loved the adventure, and Beth didn’t know any different.

  The three of us concluded that Shirley intended to get Beth by legal means. This meant we didn’t see any danger to either Christopher, Beth or Jenny’s parents, so we relaxed about the days when John and Frances had the kids – they would all be safe.

  For Shirley to achieve her goal by the legal route, she’d have to ensure that Jenny and I were removed from the picture. We debated this for hours, going around and around in circles. Jenny’s view was very much in the camp that although the Colneys were evil, they wouldn’t risk killing us both to get Beth. This idea was too fanciful and stuff of crime thrillers, she’d said.

  Don was at the other end of the spectrum, stating he knew what the family was capable of and firmly believed they would be prepared to do us in, as he put it. I sat somewhere in the middle. I was sure Shirley was calculating and ultimately didn’t really give a toss what happened to Paul. If she was as switched on as I thought she was, she knew Paul would eventually come to a sticky end. Either dead by another’s hand or a stretch in prison. She probably expected he’d be caught for peddling drugs, dishing out beatings, or as she’d just discovered his other passion in life – rape.

  On Thursday evening, we sat around the kitchen table. This time, Martin had joined us as we repeatedly mulled over our plans to get out of this mess. The kids were tucked up in bed, although Christopher played up a bit as he’d pleaded for his grandpa to read at least two stories. Don, his honorary grandpa, of course relented. I knew Don was loving every minute of reading stories infinitely more than Christopher enjoyed listening to them.

  With a near-empty bottle of Whyte & Mackay and a new bottle of Johnnie Walker Black Label in the middle of the table, we all held our glasses and stared at the ceiling. It was as if we were trying to grasp divine inspiration or having a séance. Martin was becoming impatient, saying we had to deal with the bastard and quickly.

  “He raped my mother, for Christ’s sake! We can’t just sit around any longer doing feck all … let’s just go deal with the fucker!”

  “What you on about, son, who’s your mother?” Don questioned, as he peered over his glasses.

  “Ow! Bollocks that fricking hurt!” Martin scraped his chair back and grabbed his shin. “You’ve drawn blood, I expect.” He scowled at Jenny, who appeared to have rammed the heel of her stiletto down his shin as a warning to shut up after his outburst.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Martin, I didn’t realise your leg was there.” She glared at him, willing him to realise what he’d said.

  “Don’t worry about your leg, son. Jenny didn’t mean it. I’ve seen blokes have legs blown off in the trenches make less fuss. Now, what you on about Paul Colney raped your mother? Who is she?”

  Martin continued to rub his leg, but I could tell by his expression he’d realised the cock-up he’d made.

  “Oh, nothing. Nothing. I don’t know what I was talking about.”

  “It’s that funny tobacco you smoke, son. I can smell it over the garden fence. It’ll send your brain skew-whiffy.”

  I looked at Martin and arched my eyebrows.

  “Mandy gave it to me. Haven't had a spliff for years. It’s good stuff.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Randy Mandy?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What happened to Nursey Nicole then?”

  “Nothing. Alternate days, you know … variety is the spice of life, and all that.” He grinned, clearly proud of the little harem he’d forged for himself.

  “Well, I don’t think that’s very nice at all,” said Jenny, as she scrunched her nose up and looked at Martin with disdain. I suspected she was considering ramming her stiletto down the other shin.

  “I’m sure neither lady would be very pleased if they knew what was going on,” she added.

  Martin looked chastised, and we all fell into silence for a minute.

  “Anyway, mate, you need to be careful putting it about. AIDS is just around the corner, and you never know who’s been with who.”

  “What?” Jenny and Don said in unison.

  Martin burst out laughing and looked pleased it was my turn to throw out a time-travel cock-up. Although I’d told Jenny about HIV, I hadn’t referred to it as AIDS. Don was now looking confused … again.

  “What’s funny?” Jenny asked, still looking at Martin. Her nose turned up again as if he had a bad smell fuzzing around him.

  “Nothing!” He held his hands up, grinning at me.

  “Well, son?”

  I turned to look at Don, then back to Jenny. “Nothing, I think the smell of his wacky-backy is getting to my head as well.”

  “Son, you’re not smoking that stuff as well?”

  “No, Don. Absolutely not. I’ve done it in my youth, but not for many years. Look, let’s get back to what we were talking about. We can’t keep hiding out here. We’ll have to go home soon, but we haven’t got anywhere with all our yacking this week, so what we gonna do?”

  “Darling, I’ve just thought. D’you think we could pay him off? We can afford it, can’t we?”

  I clicked my fingers, rocked back on my chair and turned to Don, “What d’you think? It’s the best we’ve come up with all week.”

  Don grasped his glass and downed the amber liquid, wincing as it slipped down his throat. “Pour me another, son. Lass, you might have something there. You're not only beautiful but clever as well.”

  “How much will it take to get them off our back, d’you think?” Jenny asked, as she gently lifted a strand of her hair behind her ear, a reaction I knew she always performed when complimented.

  “That lot are all about power and money. The offer of cash will play to their thirst for money, but I fear they’ll have power over you. If you gave them a few grand it might work, but what’s to stop them just coming back for more?”

  “Shit, you’re right.” I downed my whisky. Now feeling deflated Don had popped a hole in that idea.

  “Son, it’s not all lost. A few grand might get them off your back and buy some time. It’s not ideal … but as you said, you have to get your life back on track. A little bit of extra time might be all we need to work out a better plan.”

  Jenny leant across and grabbed my hand. “Don’s right. How much can we afford?”

  “Yes, a few grand is easily acquired and won’t den
t our finances too much. I think that’s all we can do for the moment.”

  “What about the fact he’s a rapist? He may well go on to rape many women. Paying him off ain’t going to solve that, is it?” Martin added and nodded at me, conveying the concern for his mother.

  Clearly, he’d thought this time and not blurted it out, which would have sent the conversation spiralling back out of control and leaving Don wondering what the hell we’re talking about.

  “No, Martin, you’re right. But I don’t know what to do about that at this point.”

  “Son, can’t you persuade that girl of yours to come forward. If she did and they convicted him, that would solve everything. Wacky-backy-boy here has a good point.” Don pointed at Martin, as he gripped his whisky glass.

  “Thanks!” Martin clearly wasn’t overly enamoured with his new nickname.

  “Darling, let’s bring Jess here tomorrow. I can meet her, and perhaps I can talk to her woman to woman like. If we pay Shirley off handsomely, she might not care if Jess then reports him.” She turned to Don and grabbed his hand. “Would that be alright, Don?”

  Don put down his glass and took her hand in his. “Of course, my girl, anything for you.”

  I remembered his comment last year when advising me it would be a good idea to ‘step out’ with Jenny—

  ‘If I were a few years younger, I’d be chasing that girl myself.’

  Bless him, I thought.

  44

  4th February 1977

  Friends Reunited

  The plan was set. What I wanted to be able to do, was send a simple text to Jess to say I would pick her up, and we would spend the evening together. However, although I thought my life was infinitely better without a mobile phone, now I needed one. As Jess didn’t have a landline, the only option was to go to the Broxworth and ask her face to face. The other options to contact her in these dark ages were to write a letter – take too long. Send a carrier pigeon – didn’t have one. Send a telegram – didn’t know how to. This left the one option – go back to that bloody estate and knock on her door.

  With Shirley’s threats and her out of control son, this strategy was perilously risky, but hey, we had no bloody choice and time was seriously against us. If we could persuade Jess to report the rape and get that bastard arrested, I felt sure I could pay Shirley off. What the long-term solution to this dilemma was, at this point in time, we had no idea. What we’d come up with last night was the best we could conjure up, although we all agreed it was risky and potentially stupid.

  I decided to leave my car at Don’s, so Martin and I could car-share to school on Friday. This meant we could ride up to the estate together after school. It was a toss-up whether to take the Stag or the Cortina, but based on the fact we now believed the Colney clan were out to get me, the Cortina seemed to be the lesser of two evils.

  The not so cunning plan we’d decided upon would only work as long as I could nip through the Broxworth labyrinth, grab Jess and get to Coldhams Lane without being noticed. Martin would park up at the top of Coldhams Lane, near the Beehive pub, and keep the engine running like a well-trained get-away-driver. I felt sure Jess would come with me on the pretence to meet my family over a free meal. Martin was far too excited by the challenge, and I think he fancied himself as a bit of a Steve McQueen type character.

  After lunch, the first lesson was Chemistry and very aptly named considering my new pairings in place. Surprisingly, young Carlton seemed to have made significant progress. I assumed he’d revised his plan to thank Sarah for her help in Monday’s lesson, from his original idea of an offer of gratitude whilst gawping at her great tits, as he put it. I’m no expert, but I felt Sarah wouldn’t have been overly enamoured and seen Carlton as potential boyfriend material if he’d taken that route.

  I observed a shift in their relationship from working partners to a point where they could have been the only pupils in the room as far as they were concerned. There was definitely chemistry between them. Carlton seemed uncharacteristically to be totally focused on the school work, and I spotted him constantly saying to Sarah how clever she was. At no point was he distracted by his mates, Roberts and Cooper, who, as usual, were taking every opportunity to act the prat – a skill both boys had mastered over their final school year.

  When I asked Sarah and Carlton to talk through their results from the experiments, the whole class fell about laughing as they both hadn’t heard me due to being engrossed in gazing into each other’s eyes. Although they both were highly embarrassed, I was delighted my matchmaking skills had resulted in Sarah hopefully no longer being obsessed with the school caretaker.

  I caught up with Martin as we relaxed in a couple of shabby armchairs in the boiler room. We sipped coffee made in the kitchenette Clive had constructed, which involved a hot plate dubiously rigged into the boiler electrics. I was confident both the seating area and kitchenette Clive had set up near the main boiler wouldn’t have been allowed in my day. No, there would be some weekly checklist or task sheet required to be completed and emailed to the local authority to state all areas had had their full health and safety assessment. Presumably, the inspection would have to be carried out whilst wearing a Hi-Vis vest, goggles, steel toe-capped boots and hard hat. Combustible tatty sofas and dodgy electrics, I assumed, wouldn’t have passed said inspection in 2019.

  Martin appeared relieved that Sarah seemed to have shifted her thoughts from him to Carlton, although I guess watching your mother coo over a spotty dork was difficult to be too chuffed about.

  “It does feel bloody odd though. I mean, I can't believe Carlton turns out to be the bloke I remember as he looks such a pillock!”

  “Ha, yes. He can be a bit of a knob. Certainly got the brains, but just a bit childish and immature. Then thinking about it, he is a child … they’re both only sixteen, remember.”

  Martin traced his scar on the side of his face, a habit I’d noticed him form over the last couple of weeks.

  “I’ve accepted I’m never going back. And like you, I think I died after that crash. Well, I can only presume I was in a coma for a while before I died. It’s occurred to me Caroline may have had to make the decision to turn my life support off … that’s a hell of a thing for anyone to have to do.”

  I pointed at his scar as he continued to rub it. “Probably suffered a brain injury, and they opened you up to try and relieve the swelling.”

  Martin nodded as he placed his coffee cup on some part of the boiler machinery that whirred and clanged. “Yup, I reckon something like that. I actually think I like the scar. Nicole says it gives me a manly rugged appearance … would you believe?”

  “I’m sorry.” I dropped my eyes and looked at the coffee, which I tried to balance in my lap. “If I’d been concentrating and not doing my usual of analysing everything, moaning about everyone – which we both know I used to do all the time – I wouldn't have hit that van. You wouldn’t have died, and you could be happy living your life in good-old 2019.”

  “Don’t worry. Jason … Jason?”

  I looked up at him.

  “Look, mate, I don’t know if it’s Jenny or your job, but you’re a different person in this life. Don’t get too excited, but I might even stretch to say I quite like you.” Martin grinned, presumably waiting for a reaction, but I didn’t comply.

  He continued. “You’ve made a life which certainly agrees with you. I think my time was up in 2019 and, now being alive again in 1977, I have a second chance. Apart from you … who else gets this fantastic opportunity?”

  I chuckled and pointed my coffee cup at him. “Remember saying the very same thing a few months ago.”

  “The important thing is to get that bastard arrested, so he can’t rape Mum. That’s what's important now. Mum had some sad points in her life, and I’d like her to be happy. I know she loved my dad, but their time together was so short. If we can re-write history so she doesn’t get raped, she might meet someone else. Mum could then have children that she actu
ally plans to have and perhaps a marriage that lasts longer than ten years.”

  “Got to give it to you, mate, you’ve a brilliant attitude to this.”

  “She’s my mum, and I want her to be happy. I know I won’t now be born, and I’m struggling to get my head around the fact she isn’t now my mum … well, y’know what I mean.”

  I nodded. “Bloody confusing, this time-travel malarky ain’t it?”

  “You’re not wrong. Anyway, when we’ve dealt with Paul Colney, I thought I might go travelling … see the world. Caroline and I married quite young and, if I’m honest, I always regretted not going travelling. There’s a big world out there.”

  “Good idea … God knows how we get you a passport, though.”

  “We’ll work it out. No offence, but I don’t miss working for you at Waddington Steel, and this place ain’t my idea of paradise.”

  “No offence taken. To be honest, I don’t miss working with me at Waddington Steel either!”

  Martin stood up and took the empty coffee cup which I’d handed to him. “Yes, I’m sure you’re right,” he chuckled. “Well, I have a door hinge in classroom eighteen to fix, and I expect you have a class of juvenile delinquents to teach, so best we get on.”

  This had been a crazy two weeks since Martin landed. Today’s short conversation had surprised me as he seemed to have moved on and developed a maturity that I hadn’t witnessed before. Time travel appeared to have improved both of us.

  Nipping along to my next class, I thought of quite a few old acquaintances who could also benefit from the character development that time travel appeared to provide. Still, I very much doubted they would have the opportunity. Or would they? Hell, I had no idea. The world, for all I knew, could be full of people like us.