With his face squashed against the counter, he mouths an apology and I release my hold and lift him up. In a final insult to his ego, I pinch his cheeks and smile.
“Just messing with you, sweetie. Why would I want to ruin such a cute face? Have a nice day, Steven Gately.”
As I turn to leave for the station, he is once again left scratching his heavily gelled head in confusion at my Boyzone reference.
The wound in my leg is still giving me a lot of pain, but I need to catch the 6.19 train from Staines to keep myself on track.
Unlike my last trip, I know exactly where the station is now, so my lack of speed is made up by not having to think about where I am going and, a few minutes before it is due to arrive, I make it to platform two and listen in as the two teenage lovers discuss Forrest Gump and Lambrusco.
A couple of minutes later the train arrives and I make my way through until I find my skinhead friends and their pit bull in the third carriage.
I also see Maria. She is sitting a couple of rows further back and she smiles when she sees me looking at her. For a second, I am unsure of what to do next, but then I am brought back to earth in no uncertain fashion.
“Don’t even think about sitting down, fuckhead. That seat is for my boots — keep fucking moving.”
Maria looks down as if she knows what is about to happen and it is noticeable that everyone else in the carriage has stopped talking in anticipation of the coming trouble. I just hope that I can give them the show that they are all waiting for. I guess that there is only one way to find out.
“So, what’s this then?” I ask. “Are you and your sisters going to a fancy-dress party, or is there a freak show in town?”
As before, my insult hits home and instantly the pair of them are on their feet squaring up to me and I start to roll up my newspaper.
“What the fuck did you say, you fucking prick?”
The banter and insults go back and forth in as much detail as I can remember from my previous time here until we reach the point where I offer them my newspaper.
“Hang on, what about this — why don’t you read my paper? You can read, can’t you, lads?”
My obvious lack of fear throws them off balance, but inside I am praying that my confidence can be backed up with a similar level of action. They are lost for words as I stare them down, but eventually one of them puffs himself up and plays the big man again.
“Fuck off with your paper! What the fuck are you talking about?”
It’s almost like I am an actor reading my lines. This pair of dipshits have no idea what is coming to them. I take a deep breath and then I deliver my final lines with my newspaper tightly rolled at my side.
“So, what’s it to be, lads? Can we be friends?”
This time they are barely able to move before the compacted end of the rolled-up newspaper smashes into their faces. They both drop to the floor with blood pumping from their shattered noses and I reach across and pick up the pit bull by the collar.
I catch sight of Maria out of the corner of my eye and for a moment I consider putting the dog down, but it needs to play out exactly as before, so I hurl it through the open window of the train and make my sarcastic comment to the ticket inspector.
I then sit down opposite the defiant-looking fuckwits and do my best to psyche them out. In reality, though, the speed of my punches and the effort in lifting the heavy dog have left me in a lot of pain and I’m thankful that my last fighting action tonight will be in finding my way home.
It’s as much a relief to me as it is to them when we pull into Feltham Station and it is all I can do to return their insults and wave to them as they drive away in the battered-looking Ford Sierra with their Neanderthal friend.
I am in so much discomfort that I could quite happily leave now, but I have come here for a reason and Maria’s hand on my shoulder instantly raises my spirits.
“Excuse me, I saw what you did on the train, but you really should be careful. Those guys are nutters and have a bad reputation.”
When I turn to face her, I am instantly stunned once again by her beauty, but this time it is different. I can’t explain it, but knowing she is the mother of my child makes me feel a connection that goes far beyond our one-night stand.
We make the same small talk as before and it makes me smile when she calls me Superman.
“It’s Sean, but Superman also works for me. How about a quick drink before you go home? No strings attached, just a thank you for the advice. There is a pub just around the corner, the King George, do you know it?”
After this, everything else plays out exactly as it did before, up until the point that Paul Donovan and the Fletcher brothers arrive in the pub.
We watch as Donovan orders the young guys off the pool table and I go through the motions of asking Maria if she knows who the three guys are.
When Donovan slaps Terry for the comment about the pool cue being okay, Maria holds me back again and I keep my cool when Donovan refers to Maria as a slag and Mark Fletcher mimics a chicken.
We get up to leave and I lead Maria to the door as Donovan heads towards the bathroom but continues to loudly abuse Terry.
It’s nearly 9 pm, and the streets are as quiet as I remember they were, other than some kids hanging around outside of the chip shop and a couple of private taxis loitering for business. Maria apologizes about what happened in the pub and, as before, I reassure her that it doesn’t matter. I call Donovan and the Fletcher brother assholes and then I offer to take Maria home.
She points to her bus stop and I pour on the charm to persuade her to let me get a taxi.
I know already that I am taking her home and it almost feels underhand, but I console myself in the knowledge that if I don’t take her home everything in the future will be changed again for the worse.
“I really would feel better if I could take you home, Maria. This town seems to have more than its fair share of nutters and I could never forgive myself if anything happened to you, particularly after I made you come for drinks with me.”
“I’m not sure, Sean. I’m still trying to work you out, and I haven’t decided yet whether you are actually as charming as you make out, or whether it’s all a front to get in my knickers.”
For a second, we both go quiet and then we laugh.
Now, this is the point where we should be getting in a taxi to her place but this is my last opportunity to do something that I should have done a long time ago. I kiss Maria on the cheek and then I ask her to wait for me.
“Just give me a minute, beautiful. I think I might have left my car keys on the table. I won’t be long.”
Despite my earlier comment, I know that I am disturbing the timeline and previous chain of events, but before she can respond I go back into the pub and pick up an empty beer bottle off one the tables.
Mark and Terry are still at the pool table, so Donovan must still be in the bathroom. Hopefully, it is just a piss. His kicking is long overdue, but I don’t want him to see me and that would be a problem if he is one of the cubicles taking a dump.
I push open the washroom door and peer into the bathroom. Donovan is completely preoccupied with his piss and he doesn’t see it coming as I smash the beer bottle over his head.
He isn’t knocked out completely, but I soon remedy that with a swift kick in his teeth and a completely unnecessary kick in his bollocks for good measure.
“You had that coming asshole, take my word for it.”
With a huge feeling of satisfaction, I re-join Maria outside and she asks me if I found my keys.
“Yeh, funny story actually, Maria, as soon as I started looking, I remembered that I don’t have a car. That’s why I was on the train. Call it a blond moment.”
She looks at me like I am crazy and then laughs. “You are absolutely mad, Sean, and I must be mad for letting you take me home. Come on, let’s get a taxi before I change my mind.”
As we climb the stairs towards the upper level of her house, she re
minds me to be quiet and I smile inside knowing that we have finally got justice for her mother.
Inside her bedroom, she tells me to sit down on her bed and I pick up the picture of her father as she heads to the bathroom to freshen up.
When she gets back, she tells me about the death of her father and I tell her to keep the faith.
“The police won’t give up on him, Maria, just don’t give up hope.”
“Thanks, Sean, I wish I had your confidence, but it’s hard to keep believing when there has been no progress in the last eighteen months. I do appreciate it, though, even if it is a precursor to getting me in bed.”
I laugh at her joke. “So, have you made your mind up about me yet?”
“I made my mind up about you after the second Bacardi and Coke. You’re most definitely a charmer and you’re also most definitely trying to get into my knickers. The only difference between you and the other guys is that you’re happy to buy me a drink first and I have a feeling that it’s not going to be a race to see who comes first.”
Even though I have heard this before, I am still lost for words and, sensing my hesitation, Maria takes the lead and pulls me down onto the bed.
“You can take that last part as a compliment, Mr. Charmer. I don’t do this very often, so let’s do it now before I come to my senses and change my mind.”
As I undress, Maria takes care not to touch the bandages on my shoulder and my leg and, despite my injuries, the sex is mind blowing again.
We climax together and then both collapse backwards onto the bed out of breath and sweating heavily. When she gets her breath back, Maria sits up and looks at me with a look of confusion on her face.
“Is everything okay, Maria? You look upset.”
“Not upset, Sean, that was amazing. I’ve never had sex like that before. It’s like you knew instinctively what to do to push my buttons.”
Her comments make me blush. To deflect the conversation, I rub the bandage on my leg.
“Oh, I hope I didn’t hurt you, Sean. How did you get those injuries?”
We are straying too far off track for my liking and, conscious of the time, I make up a story about a rock-climbing accident and then ask her if she can get me a glass of cold water.
By the time she gets back I am already nearly dressed and I apologize and tell her that I need to get going.
“That’s okay, Sean. It’s already past two in the morning and my mum is an early riser. Believe me, those skinheads have nothing on my mother. If you want to keep your balls intact, you had better get moving.”
The last thing I need to do before I leave to keep the time line unaltered is to make sure that she meets me again on Saturday.
“Can I see you again, Maria? This Saturday, let’s meet in the King George around 7.30 pm and then we can go on somewhere for dinner.”
“Wow, the King George, you are such a romantic. But okay — if it means I can get some sleep, then yes. Make sure you book somewhere nice for dinner. Now go on, get your shoes on.”
When she closes the front door behind me, I check my watch and smile when I see that it is nearly 2.45 am.
Everything is exactly as it was before and I have just enjoyed a much-needed evening with a stunningly beautiful woman.
I am also happy to know that I will be catching up with my skinhead buddies soon. In my current physical state, I won’t be able to put up much of a fight, but my beating at their hands will mark the end to my time in 1994 and send me back to 2018 to start the next chapter in my life.
Life is good right now and with one final look back to Maria’s bedroom window, I mouth the words, Don’t think too badly of me, Maria. Then I turn and walk confidently down the street to find my way home.
Thirty meters from Maria’s house, I pass someone with a grey hoodie pulled down low over their face waiting in a bus shelter.
I keep walking for another few meters but then I stop. This scene is all wrong. I don’t remember seeing anyone the last time I was here. I could be wrong, though — maybe I was in such a hurry to get home last time that I just didn’t notice them.
I start to walk again, conscious that I need to keep on track with the skinheads, but the doubts nag at me and I turn back and walk towards the shelter.
As I get close to the shelter, the person sitting inside drops their head lower. Something is definitely not right, and I call out to them, “Hey, are you okay?”
They completely ignore my question and I step inside the shelter and touch the top of the person’s head.
“I asked you a question, buddy. Who are you?”
This time there is a response. The voice is male and is vaguely familiar. “You know who I am, Sean.”
Now I am on the defensive. I step back out of striking range and demand, “Who the fuck are you? Stand up and show yourself.”
The mysterious male figure stands up, but for a couple of seconds the hoodie is still covering his face and then he drops it and smiles.
When I see who it is, my legs feel like they are going to buckle under me and he steps forward and takes hold of one of my arms to stop me falling.
“You look surprised to see me, Dad! Did you think you were the only one in the family that had the ability to dream travel?”
I am completely lost for words and Ben helps me to sit down on the bench in the shelter. When I do speak there are so many questions spinning around in my head that I don’t know where to start.
“Ben, it’s not what you think. How did you know? How did you get here?”
“Sean, stop the bullshit, please. It’s exactly what I think. I’ve been following you since you left the King George and you’ve just left my mums bedroom. Don’t even think about trying to deny it.”
“But how did you know?” I ask him.
“It wasn’t so hard to work out, Sean,” he replies. “I always knew the story Mum told me about my conception and about my dad,” and then with a smirk. “And how he likes a pint of Stella.”
“It was only when you came on the scene, though, that I started to think more about it. I started dream traveling just over a year ago, but I really didn’t understand too much about it until you showed up at our house, and then Mum told me about some polaroid pictures connected to my grandfather’s death that had turned up after twenty-five years. She also made a few comments about how you reminded her of my dad and this got me thinking.
“So when we visited you in prison, I took the bottle of water that you drank from and I did a home DNA test.”
The look on my face betrays me and he raises his eyebrows. “Don’t you dare give me that offended look, Sean. Not after everything you have put mum through. I needed to know if it was you and the test confirmed it to a 99.8 per cent probability.
“After that I questioned mum again about the exact date of my conception and when she mentioned it was two days before the murder in the King George all I had to do then was come along and check for myself.”
There is nothing I can say to deny any of this and there is no point anyway. DNA tests don’t lie and we are both here now on the night of Ben’s conception.
“And have you told your mother about this?” I ask.
“Of course not,” he laughs. “She would think I was on something.”
“Okay, fair enough, and what about the travel, Ben, are you managing the accuracy okay?”
“No, not exactly, this is my third time trying to get here. This time, I actually woke up on the outskirts of Glasgow at five o’clock this morning. I caught the train down and I’ve been hanging around since then waiting for you.”
“And where are you now in the real world?” I ask him.
“I’m at home. Mum is away at friends, so it’s no problem if I sleep through the day.
“Okay, so what now, Ben?”
Ben smiles and helps me to my feet.
“The what now, Dad, is that we walk up the road together and we get stuck into the gang of skinheads that are waiting for you.”
�
��No, I mean, what now for us, Ben? I am your dad, I don’t deny that, but look at me, back in 2018, I’m only a few years older than you. I don’t see me taking you to the park and pushing you on the swings.”
“Oh, yeh, the what now for us is that as soon as you’re well enough to leave hospital, you and I need to have a long talk about how we are going to work together going forward.”
I’m confused and I ask him what he means. “Work together, Ben?”
“Partners, Sean. Think about what you have achieved on your own, and then think about what you could achieve with a partner.”
“Not a chance, Ben. It’s too dangerous. I already have a partner and you have your studies to finish.”
“It’s not really open for discussion, Sean,” he snaps.
This is the most confident I have seen Ben so far and, before we are interrupted, he throws in some emotional and sarcastic blackmail. “Call it payback for all the missed birthdays and Christmases, Daddy!”
Before we can continue our conversation, we are disturbed by the sound of approaching footsteps.
The skinheads have grown bored of waiting on the main road for me and are now outside the bus shelter.
“Aww isn’t this nice, the hardman has found himself a boyfriend to call him Daddy,” one of them shouts.
They all burst out laughing and one of the skins from the train directs his own taunt to me, “Hey, fuckhead, I bet you didn’t expect to see us again so soon.”
I smile at Ben and nod, “So then, are you ready for this, Ben?”
He smiles back and takes a pair of brass knuckles from his pocket and slips them on, much to my amusement.
“Really, Ben?”
He shrugs his shoulders and smiles again and I turn back to the skins to deliver my line to light the fuse.
“Hey, ladies, love the matching plasters. What’s this all about? Did you not get the message earlier, or did you bring this gang of fuckwits for me to spank as well?
The skins pile in on us and, Ben goes down quickly under a flurry of punches and kicks. I fight as hard as I can, but the baseball bats and the Doc Marten boots slamming into my ribs and head take me down for the last time shortly after.
The Network Page 22
