by Nick Jones
‘Yes.’ I know what it’s like to live with such a curse, but I’m not sure I completely understand what she’s telling me. ‘Well, sort of,’ I admit. ‘Amy, what did you see?’
‘When I see the future, I see splintered versions. It’s hard to explain, but I saw you come back multiple times, watched numerous versions of us trying to cope… all the scenarios playing out. I took everything I could from those visions and I used them to prepare for your return, to avoid the pitfalls, help make your transition as seamless as possible.’
‘The book?’
‘Yes, partly.’
‘It’s brilliant,’ I tell her.
‘But it hasn’t worked, has it? It was never going to work.’ Her voice cracks, jagged pain obvious in her words. ‘I can’t do this,’ she says, ‘I can’t watch you kill yourself.’
‘Kill myself?’ I tell her. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Time travelling is dangerous. You need to stop… please.’
‘I wish I could,’ I tell her. ‘But it’s complicated.’
‘What does that mean?’ she snaps back. ‘You have a choice, Joe.’
How do I tell her that I don’t? Where do I begin?
Amy sighs. ‘I lost my brother once,’ she says, blinking back tears. ‘I can’t lose you again.’
I know that if I start to tell her, she will want to know everything, want to help, but I simply can’t lie anymore. ‘It’s the other way round.’ I tell her.
‘What do you mean?’
I swallow and steel myself. ‘I’m being blackmailed, Amy,’ I tell her, sighing heavily, ‘forced to time travel.’
‘Blackmailed, by who?’
‘A man called WP Brown. Bill.’
‘Why?’ she asks. ‘What does he want?’
‘I have to save a woman.’
‘Who?'
‘Her name is Lucy Romano. She's going to be murdered, but she’s innocent. Bill says she's important.'
‘And what happens if you don’t do what he says?'
I draw in a long breath. ‘He threatened to put things back to how they were, with you, I mean.’
She blinks rapidly, processing, then her gaze snaps back to mine. Her jaw sets, her eyes blaze, just as I knew they would. I see myself in those eyes. ‘I’m coming with you,' she says.
‘Amy, you can’t –’
‘I’m coming with you, Joseph,’ she says again, determined, 'I know you can drag me back. We do this together.’
I don’t say anything. I just stare at my hands.
‘How far back are you going?’
‘The 1960s.’
She frowns. ‘That’s further than you can go, isn’t it?’
‘It was.’ I nod. ‘But things have changed.’
A few seconds pass, both our minds working. Amy breaks the silence. ‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’
‘I was trying to cope, trying to protect you from all this.’ I sigh. ‘I didn’t want you to worry.’
‘That just made me worry more.’ She shakes her head. ‘At least now it makes sense.’
I sigh, feeling some of the pressure dissipating but also aware things are now even more complicated. What was it Vinny said? A problem shared is a problem doubled.
Oh, Vinny.
‘We do this together.’ Amy says. ‘Promise me… and mean it this time.’
I stare back at her, those words reminding me of Bill’s ultimatum. ‘Okay,’ I tell her.
‘So, how does this work?’ she asks. ‘When are you planning to go back again?’
Planning, if only it was that easy. ‘I’m going back soon,’ I tell her, ‘but there's something I need to do first.’ I hold her gaze. ‘Alone.’
Amy is no fool. ‘You aren’t alone,’ she says, ‘you have me now and you need to start getting used to that. We are a team, we’re family.’
She hugs me and I well up, emotion surging from somewhere long forgotten.
We sit for a while. She offers me a lift home, but I tell her I want to walk, that I need some air. It’s in keeping with her new brother’s weirdness, and reluctantly she agrees.
I assure her again that we will travel together, that I understand, but it’s Amy who doesn’t understand.
As I leave the hospital, a thin mist of rain covers Cheltenham like a sheen of silver. The wind picks up, the trees hiss Amy’s warning. I can’t watch you kill yourself, she said. Well, she needn’t worry about that.
I am her brother, it’s my job to protect her no matter what. And that’s why in telling her the truth, I’ve also lied. It isn’t just what happened to Vinny, but it helped make my mind up. There is no way I would risk dragging her back with me. If I succeed, then she can be as angry as she likes. I will smile as she berates me. She will be alive. If I fail, then nothing matters anymore.
Nothing.
Chapter Sixty-Eight
I drift through Cheltenham like a ghost. This whole walking around in the small hours thing is familiar; I used to do it a lot. Like time travelling, insomnia is a bitch that keeps on giving. It becomes a habit you can’t break. I know I should go home, drink chamomile tea and get some sleep like Alexia taught me. That would be the smart thing to do. Prepare.
Yet here I am. Back to the old me.
One, two, three o’clock, four o’clock…
Shit.
“4am” by Cherry Ghost. That’s a great song. The lyrics are amazing and like a host of songs old and new, they resonate more with me now. Cherry Ghost describe how loneliness has no hiding place on earth, about being abandoned with a hole in your heart. The lead singer, Simon Aldred, asks the world to give him a guiding light, to place a hand on his shoulder.
Well world, where’s my guiding light?
I end up in one of my old haunts, Pittville Park. It’s cold but at least it’s stopped raining. Surprised animals cross my path: rabbits, mice, the odd fox. The dawn chorus begins, and even at this early hour the roads are surprisingly busy with traffic.
Where the hell are these people going? Why are they up so early? I have an excuse, a long list of worries. Recent additions to the list are Amy’s doom-filled visions and my best friend in a coma. My heart sinks. I feel awful about what happened to Vinny.
I recall Solanine telling me I’m bad news, that I ruined everything I touched. I exhale slowly. Maybe she’s right, maybe everyone would just be better off if I left. I genuinely don’t know anymore. I don’t even know who I’m trying to be, I’m totally lost.
I check my pocket watch: fourteen hours left.
The first rays of sun cut through the mist and dance over the lake. Soon, normal people will wake up and face the day.
In the distance I see a golden glow, like Vegas appearing out of the desert, a beacon of life in a sea of bleakness.
Heaven... Well, a bakery.
My body shudders and I am drawn helplessly towards the bakery and the thought of a hot drink and bread-based foodstuffs.
I push open the door and am hit with the magnificent aroma of fresh coffee, bread and sugar: the holy trinity for a time-weary insomniac like me. I know my cafés; this one is bakery first, coffee second, but that’s okay. I’m on death row… losers can’t be choosers.
I nod to the man behind the counter.
‘Another early bird,’ he says.
‘You been busy then?’ I ask.
The man points over my shoulder and I get that feeling again like I had outside. I thought I was shaking due to the cold, but it’s more like my intuition is kicking in. I had a similar feeling in London when Vinny and I lost Frankie’s car. It isn’t déjà vu, although it has a similar intensity. It’s more an undeniable sense that I was supposed to come here this morning. I see a man seated at a small table in the corner. He raises his hand in greeting.
It’s Bill.
And based on his calm expression, he’s been expecting me.
Chapter Sixty-Nine
My heart sinks. Bill is the last person I wanted to see. I turn and head for the door.
>
‘Joseph,’ he calls after me, ‘please, wait.’
I turn back. ‘I’ve got nothing to say to you, Bill.’ It’s a lie, I have a thousand things, but I’m too broken to fight.
He walks towards me and I’m taken aback. As always, he’s dressed smartly, today in a dark suit and long coat. But he’s much older than the last time I saw him; thinner, too, his face time-worn and wrinkled. He smiles, revealing deep crow’s feet around his temples. ‘Please, I’m here to help you.’
The bad guys always say that.
His hair is powder white and thin enough to reveal his scalp, which is flecked with dark liver spots. He’s aged at least twenty years. I would guess he’s in his seventies now. He looks frail. I choose not to show my surprise.
‘What do you want from me?’
‘Why don’t we take a seat?’ He gestures towards the table.
‘If it’s all the same, I’d rather not.’
The old time traveller nods patiently. ‘All I ask is five minutes of your time.’
All he asks. My stomach rumbles. I’m tired and hungry and the coffee smells good. Reluctantly, I agree.
I sit opposite him and fold my arms. ‘Well, I must say, your timing is impeccable as always. Come to check how I’m doing?
‘Actually, yes,’ he replies like a concerned friend. ‘How are you, Joseph?’
I let out a small, bitter laugh. Sometimes he seems almost genuine. I need to be careful. I must not forget that this is the man responsible for putting my sister’s life on the line.
‘Well, let’s see. Since I saw you last I’ve been involved in a motorcycle accident and been beaten up by gangsters. Oh, and now my friend’s in hospital.’ I hit him with a sarcastic smile. ‘How do you think I am, Bill?’
For the record, I’m aware I sound like Solanine. I will be rolling my eyes next.
Bill nods sagely. ‘The life of a time traveller isn’t easy.’
The waiter delivers coffee and slices of heavily buttered toast. The coffee and toast might be warm but Bill and I sit in cold silence. He drops two lumps of sugar into his cup and stirs. His hands are gnarled and bony now. It’s so strange to see him age like this, decades compressed into days.
‘I’ve been in your position,’ he says, ‘feeling like all is lost.’ He leans forward in his chair, expression serious. ‘But, Joseph, you must not lose hope.’
I laugh bitterly. ‘That’s rich coming from you.’
He takes a sip of coffee and studies me for a while. ‘Picasso said the meaning of life is to find your gift… the purpose is to give it away.’
I narrow my gaze. ‘And that helps me how?’
‘You have a gift, Joseph, and if you don’t use it, you will regret it for the rest of your life.’ He sighs, tips his head forward and draws in a long breath. ‘Lucy and her son are critically important… I can’t tell you everything, but Gus goes on to do incredible things, linked to all our fates. Yours, mine, everyone’s.’
I just can’t figure him out. ‘Look, Bill,’ I sigh, ‘I’m invested now, okay? I couldn’t turn my back on Lucy even if I wanted to. You know I’ll do my best.’ I lean in and hold his gaze. ‘Please though, even if I fail, just promise you will leave Amy alone.’
He clears his throat and stares at me, his rheumy eyes void of emotion. ‘I’m afraid I can’t promise that.’
I consider him silently for a moment, anger simmering just below the surface. ‘You mean you won’t.’ I decide to get something useful out of my “mentor”. ‘Well, since you seem to know everything… My final jump is coming up. What’s going to happen?’
‘Each journey back impacts the last across multiple dimensions, each possible outcome has to be calculated, and the cumulative effect is –’
‘Basically, you don’t know,’ I interrupt him.
He finishes his coffee and dabs his mouth with a napkin. ‘No. I’m sorry.’ He seems genuinely regretful.
I glance around the café, aware that time is ticking away and I have work to do before my final jump. ‘Well,’ I say sarcastically, ‘thanks for the totally brilliant pep talk, Bill. I appreciate it.’
The frown on the old man’s face turns suddenly into a look of genuine surprise. ‘What are you doing here?’ he asks, looking over my shoulder.
I turn and see another version of Bill, the same age but wearing different clothes. This one is wearing a red-silk waistcoat with what look like DJ trousers and a trilby, tilted at an angle. He pops his pocket watch back into his waistcoat and narrows his steely blue eyes. ‘Hello, Bill; Hello, Joseph.’
Like one Bill wasn’t enough.
I glance between them. ‘What the hell is going on?’
Trilby stares at Bill intently. ‘This doesn’t work.’
Bill sighs. ‘What do you mean?’
Trilby sits down. ‘Your intervention here wasn’t enough.’ He turns back to me, offers a brief, concerned smile and says, ‘Listen to me, Joseph, listen carefully. We don’t have long.’
He slides a piece of folded linen across the table.
‘What is it?’ I ask.
‘Open it.’
I unwrap the linen and find a small key of simple design, slightly rusted but solid.
I frown at it. ‘What’s it for?’
Trilby glances at Bill and then back at me. ‘I can’t tell you for fear of altering things even more.’
I shake my head. ‘Don’t tell me, the Future Change Index.’
Both Bills nod enthusiastically.
Sheesh.
Trilby says, ‘I need to tell you about your final jump.’
Bill looks shocked.
I lean in. ‘Go on.’
‘You will travel to the night of the robbery,’ Trilby explains. ‘You have the skills required already; trust your instincts more than anything else.’ He frowns and his watery blue eyes seem to drift away for a moment. Colours dance around the edges of his face. He glances at Bill and says, ‘I’m about to travel back.’
‘Me too,’ Bill replies.
Both of them shimmer as though projected into the scene through a red filter.
Bill addresses his other self. ‘I’m sorry you had to come back,’ he says, ‘that I didn’t get it right.’
Trilby shakes his head. ‘It will all be okay in the end.’ I see a momentary flash of what looks like genuine sadness in his eyes. ‘Something has changed in my time, an anomaly not seen before…you must be vigilant. It’s good to see you again, Joseph.’ He clears his throat, adjusts his hat and winks at me. ‘Good luck and remember what I told you, trust your instincts, believe in yourself.’
I nod because it’s just easier.
‘Oh,’ he says, ‘and go and see your friend.’
I feel like grabbing him. ‘You mean Vinny? Is he okay?’
Trilby nods. ‘Go and see him and remember: trust, Joseph. Trust.’
He glances over my shoulder. I follow his gaze to the waiter, who is lifting trays from an oven. Luckily, he has his back to us. There is a loud pop and when I turn back both Bills have gone.
I stare at the space left by the travellers and then down at the key in my hand, more confused now than when I walked in.
The waiter arrives. ‘Your friends left you, have they?’
‘Sorry?’ I reply. It’s a British thing, we say sorry all the time.
The waiter places a receipt on the table. I stare at it and sigh.
The Bills have left me with the bill.
Chapter Seventy
I’m back at Cheltenham General Hospital. The man at reception told me Vinny has been moved out of intensive care and into a “normal” ward. His words, not mine. It’s a massive relief. I walk quickly, following the signs. The place still smells of bleach and bland food but it feels like a different world now, a better place.
It’s visiting time, and the ward is busy. I spot Vinny, propped up by a load of pillows. His face still looks like a smashed-up bag of apples, his right cheek really swollen, but he’s up and aware, qu
ite the transformation compared to the last time I saw him. I sit next to him.
He opens his eyes; they roll a little. ‘I’m sorry, Cash,’ he says. ‘I really messed up.’
I shake my head. ‘Vinny, you were amazing. It’s me who cocked everything up.’
‘You talk rubbish.’ He winces, fumbling for a red button that looks a bit like a detonator. He presses it and sighs. ‘I did so much of this last night,’ he tells me, chuckling, ‘I saw elephants dancing along the walls.’
‘Yeah,’ I grin, ‘morphine will do that to you.’
I’m in awe of how incredible the human body is. It’s almost impossible to believe that yesterday Vinny was in a medically induced coma in intensive care.
He nods and smiles and we sit quietly for a while. I stare down at his knee, which is packed with ice and heavily bandaged. ‘I’m really sorry, mate.’
Vinny looks horrified. ‘Are you kidding? It was mega!’ He lowers his voice. ‘A most excellent time travel adventure.’ Then his excitement fades. ‘I’m just gutted that I can’t…’ He looks around the ward again. ‘You know, come with you.’
‘Yeah, ‘I tell him. ‘Me too.’
More than I can tell you.
‘Plus, the food here is terrible,’ he sighs. ‘Well, apart from the puddings.’ He smacks his tummy which is covered by a crisp white sheet and looks like a rounded iceberg. ‘The puddings are okay, actually.’ Vinny sucks Lucozade from a small plastic cup and then pops it back on the caddy. I spot numerous packets of high-calorie biscuits, several half-eaten bars of chocolate and some grapes. The grapes appear to be untouched.
Vinny nibbles his bottom lip.
‘Are you worried about the shop?’ I ask him. ‘Can I do anything?’
He blinks, considering this. ‘No, I think it’s okay.’
I shrug. ‘To be honest, it’s probably best I give it a wide berth. I’m not exactly Solanine’s favourite person at the moment.’
Vinny looks confused. ‘Who?’
‘Solanine,’ I say again, wondering if she goes by any other weird names, ‘the narky goth with the purple hair.’ Vinny shakes his head. ‘Your employee,’ I tell him carefully, worried that Vinny has had a few too many knocks to the skull. ‘You know, the girl who looks after the shop.’
