Step Back in Time

by Ali McNamara

  ‘You OK?’ Harry asks. ‘You seem a bit distracted tonight.’ He looks longingly at the machine where fluffy pieces of popcorn are flying around waiting to be dropped into a cone. ‘Do you mind if I get some when we’ve got our tickets? Only I didn’t get any dinner and I’m starving.’

  ‘No of course not, go for it, and I’m fine, really. Few things on my mind, that’s all.’

  We finally reach the booth, and Harry insists on paying for my ticket. We then move across the foyer to another queue for food and drink, and when we reach the front of that one, in addition to his popcorn and my drink, Harry buys a Mars Bar, two Cadbury Flakes, and a Kit Kat.

  ‘You really are hungry!’ I remark, glancing at his stash as we walk towards the screen together. This is a small cinema in comparison to the multiplexes I’m used to back home; it only has two screens.

  ‘Yeah, haven’t eaten since that Wimpy at lunchtime; nothing in the house when I got in from work tonight.’

  ‘Where was your mum?’

  ‘Out, thank God.’

  ‘Have you two settled your differences yet?’ I pass my ticket to the usherette who rips it in half.

  ‘Nah, not really. But I won’t be there much longer anyway. Where do you want to sit?’ Harry asks, looking up at the rows of seats filling fast.

  ‘Up there will do.’ I point to a couple of seats in the middle rows. ‘Why won’t you be? Living there, I mean.’

  ‘Mum is moving out to new housing. The council have been after her house for ages and she was holding out like your mum, but they kept pestering her, offering her more and more incentives to move, and finally she’s decided to give in.’

  ‘Does she want to move?’ I ask, settling into my seat. I look for the cup holder to put my drink in, but quickly realise there isn’t one in the velvet armrest.

  ‘Nah, she’s lived there all her life, but she’s weak, my mum; the promise of a fitted carpet and a fridge freezer and she’s anyone’s. Your mum’s done well holding out, can’t see anyone moving her. It was your gran’s house originally, wasn’t it?’

  I nod. ‘Yes. Harry, has your mum signed anything yet?’ I ask, my brain beginning to race.

  ‘Don’t think so. Difficult to tell, we only communicate through shouting most of the time these days.’

  I feel a pang of sorrow. I’m not sure if it’s for Harry’s problematic relationship with his mum, or for mine with my own mother.

  ‘Stop her,’ I say urgently, turning towards Harry, my hand on his arm. ‘Just make sure you stop her.’

  Harry smiles at me. ‘What’s got into you?’

  ‘Nothing. I just think your mum would be better staying in her house than moving to some grotty estate, that’s all.’

  Harry stares at me now. ‘How do you know it’s a grotty estate? It looks OK in the brochures they’ve sent her. Yes, she’s gonna be a few floors up in the air, but at least she’ll have a view.’

  ‘It will look OK now; in fact, it will seem great. But in a few years it will be completely run down, with graffiti all over the walls, and gangs doing drugs and —’

  ‘Now it’s your turn to stop!’ Harry says, holding his hand up in front of my face. ‘You sound like someone that’s been on the drugs, Jo-Jo. How on earth could you know all this?’

  I know it because I caught the end of a documentary all about the seventies on TV the other night while I was waiting for a film to start on BBC2.

  ‘I read something about how all these new estates they’re building might not be such great things in the future,’ I improvise, ‘and how the tower blocks will become like prisons for many, especially the elderly and women living alone.’

  Harry still stares at me. But it’s a different kind of stare now; it’s more a fascinated gaze. ‘You might be right, I suppose,’ he says thoughtfully. ‘It’s a lot of people to be living in one place.’

  ‘Try and put her off if you can?’ I ask him again. ‘Just for a while, anyway.’

  ‘Why, what are you going to do?’

  ‘I’m not sure, but I might just have a plan,’ I whisper, as the lights in the cinema suddenly dim. ‘I’ll tell you about it later, after we’ve enjoyed the film.’

  ‘How do you know you’re gonna like it?’ Harry whispers back, sending a strange shiver of excitement down my spine as I feel his warm breath on my ear. ‘It might be rubbish.’

  ‘Trust me,’ I say, sounding like George now. ‘We’ll like it.’

  I do genuinely enjoy watching Star Wars again, especially on the big screen. All the stuff about letting ‘the force be with you’ resonates tonight in a way it’s never done before when I’ve watched it on TV. The audience in the little cinema in Lambeth love it. Although two people behind us do complain at one point that they can’t see because of Harry’s hair, and an usherette has to come along and move them by torchlight during the film, which is a little embarrassing. But apart from that, all goes well.

  Harry’s been the perfect date so far; he bought my ticket, provided interesting and thoughtful conversation, and didn’t try to grope me once during the movie. In a way I’m a little disappointed – oh, not by the lack of groping, but I’d half expected a yawn halfway through the film, followed by an arm casually draped around my shoulders. In fact, his behaviour wasn’t really in keeping with a sixteen-year-old boy at all – really, it would have been much more suited to a man twice his age.

  As we stroll back home towards our street, again I wonder about him. To look at he’s quite obviously a teenage punk, there’s no doubting that. But I can’t help feeling there’s more to him, that he’s hiding something…

  ‘Jo-Jo,’ Harry says, suddenly pausing under a street lamp for a moment and turning towards me. ‘We’ve known each other a fair while now, haven’t we?’

  ‘Yes…’ I reply hesitantly.

  Harry takes hold of my hand. ‘Since primary school, when I used to steal your Jelly Tots from your lunch box, and later when you used to come round to my house and listen to my Beatles albums on my old box record player.’

  The Beatles again! I feel like they’re following me.

  ‘And we’ve always been friends, haven’t we? Right through secondary school, and even when you started going through your weird peace-loving phase.’

  I’m going through a phase! I think, looking up at Harry’s Mohican. But I just nod.

  ‘But lately, Jo-Jo, circumstances have conspired to allow me to appreciate what an attractive person you really are.’

  I stare at up him. The words coming from his mouth just aren’t matching up with the image that’s standing in front of me. Do sixteen-year-old boys really say this sort of thing? Not any I’ve ever met before.

  ‘You might not have noticed, but I’m usually not that good when it comes to expressing how I truly feel…’

  I don’t know, you’re doing a pretty good job of it right now!

  ‘But if I don’t tell you this now I’m not sure when I’ll get the chance again.’ Harry looks down at me, and there’s something very familiar about the blue eyes that gaze back into mine.

  ‘Harry?’ I murmur, not seeing his outer shell of teenage angst for a few seconds, but something much deeper. ‘What’s going on here?’

  Harry leans in towards me, and for a split second I think we might actually kiss this time, but then I hear Stu’s raucous voice reverberating down the street.

  ‘Oi, oi! You two again! What you up to this time?’

  Harry’s head drops forward and his blue spikes brush my face.

  ‘Not now!’ he moans under his breath. He drops my hand and turns towards the oncoming gang.

  As we’re surrounded by denim, leather, chains and spikes of all varieties from coloured ones formed from hair, to silver ones sewn on to clothes, I’m surprised to see tartan in amongst them.

  ‘Ellie, what on earth are you doing with them?’ I ask, shocked at seeing her little frame tottering along in red patent platforms in the middle of the gang.

  ‘She’s
with me,’ Stu says, grabbing hold of Ellie’s hand. ‘Aint ya?’

  Ellie juts out her chest in defiance. ‘Steady, Spike, I only agreed to come out with ya because she was going out with Harry tonight, and it was better than spending the evening at home on me own. Don’t think you own me or nothing.’

  I expect Stu to go mental, but instead he just grins. ‘She’s got spirit, this one – I like that in a girl.’ He puts his arm around Ellie and turns his attention to Harry. ‘Harry,’ he says steadily, watching him.

  ‘All right, Stu,’ Harry replies equally calmly. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Shouldn’t I be asking you that?’ Stu smirks, looking down at Harry’s crotch. ‘Been having fun?’

  I screw up my face in disdain.

  ‘What’s wrong with you, little Miss Perfect?’ Stu sneers. ‘Never seen a hard-on before? You should be flattered, it’s for your benefit.’

  Harry suddenly lunges at Stu, and before I know what’s happening they’re rolling around on the pavement, lashing out at each other with punches, kicks and whatever else they can hurt each other with.

  ‘Stop it!’ I cry. ‘Stop it, both of you!’

  But either they don’t hear me, or they choose not respond. I look desperately at the other gang members who stand observing this brawl with much amusement.

  ‘Do something!’ I implore them. ‘You have to stop them or someone will get hurt.’

  ‘Are you kidding? Most entertainment we’ve had all week,’ one of them says, grinning at me.

  ‘Ellie,’ I ask, ‘what shall we do?’

  ‘Let them fight it out, Jo-Jo,’ she says matter-of-factly. ‘Seems like the pair of them have been spoiling for this for a while.’

  I look down at the two boys, still trying to beat each other to a pulp on the ground. If it wasn’t so serious it would actually look quite funny, because with Harry’s blue hair and Stu’s green, they resemble two birds of paradise scuffling over seed on the pavement. Stu suddenly does some sort of flipping motion and leaps to his feet where he strikes an attacking pose. ‘Jean-Claude Van Damme taught me everything I know,’ he jeers at Harry, who’s still floored.

  ‘Claude Van who?’ Harry asks, slightly winded, as he lifts himself up off the pavement. ‘More like Van Gogh!’

  Stu releases an almighty roar and tries to launch himself full on into Harry with a series of flying kicks and punches. But Harry manages to dodge most of them, leaving Stu red-faced and breathless.

  ‘Enough now, the pair of you!’ I shout. ‘This is getting you nowhere.’

  ‘Why should I listen to you, little Miss Gandhi,’ Stu snarls, preparing himself for another onslaught. ‘What do you know? This is how we sort things here.’

  ‘But it’s not how you sort things where you come from, is it, Stu?’ I ask him before he has time to throw any more punches. ‘I know about Jean-Claude Van Damme. I know where he’s from, which means I know where you’re from too.’

  Stu swivels around, and for one awful moment I think he’s going to start on me, but he doesn’t. His hands drop down from their attacking pose to hang limply by his side, and all his bravado and venom vanishes. He stands like an empty shell on the side of the pavement, his hollow eyes staring at me.

  Harry sees his opportunity to strike back. But I position myself between him and Stu.

  ‘No, Harry, you mustn’t.’

  Harry looks at me in exasperation. ‘Jo-Jo?’

  ‘Please?’

  Harry sighs and nods his agreement.

  ‘What’s up, Stu, lost ya bottle?’ one of the other punks jeers.

  ‘Shut up, Knitting Nancy,’ Ellie says, putting him and his silver spikes in his place. ‘Let Jo-Jo deal with this.’

  ‘I think you should all just let him be,’ I suggest quietly. ‘I’ve seen this before,’ I improvise. ‘He could have concussion if he banged his head in the fight. Stu?’ I go over to him. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘How do you know?’ Stu whispers. He looks at me with guarded eyes. ‘How could you possibly know the truth?’

  ‘Because I’m one of them too,’ I whisper. ‘Look, come back to my house and we can talk about it.’

  Harry comes over.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he asks. ‘Why are you two whispering together? Is there something I should know?’ He looks at me questioningly.

  ‘No, Harry, it’s nothing. I’m just checking Stu is OK, that’s all.’

  ‘Shouldn’t you be checking I’m OK?’ he asks. He puts his hand to his nose, and for the first time I notice it’s bleeding.

  ‘Here,’ I reach into my bag and pull out a tissue, ‘let’s all go back to mine and I’ll try and sort both of you out.’

  Thank goodness I decided to take part in that first aid course we ran last year at the office, I think, as Ellie and I walk the two injured boys back to my house. Although I’m pretty sure it didn’t cover how to treat two seventies punk rockers; one for a nosebleed and the other for extreme shock.

  Eighteen

  When we get back to the house it’s quiet. The children would have gone to bed ages ago, and Penny, exhausted as always, wouldn’t have been much after.

  While Ellie, Harry and Stu make themselves at home in the kitchen, I dash upstairs to find some sort of first aid kit. But all I can find in the bathroom cabinet are some plasters, cotton wool and a bottle of Dettol. That will have to do, I think, shoving the plasters in my pocket and hurrying back downstairs in case Harry and Stu are trying to kill each other again.

  But as I arrive back in the kitchen I find all is well, and they’re sitting with Ellie, calmly drinking cans of Pepsi together.

  ‘Everything OK?’ I ask, looking between the two of them.

  ‘Good as gold,’ Ellie says, winking at me.

  ‘Yeah, we’re OK,’ Harry says. ‘Me and Stu never stay angry at each other for long. Do we, Stu?’

  Stu, still looking a little pale, nods. ‘Nah, life’s too short for holding grudges.’

  ‘The boys have just been talking about starting up their band again,’ Ellie says. ‘I think it’s a great idea.’

  ‘That’s good,’ I say, looking at the pair of them while I dilute some Dettol in a bowl. ‘I didn’t know the two of you had a band.’ Now this was more like the behaviour of teens; one minute they hate each other with a passion, and the next they’re best buddies again.

  ‘Yes, you did,’ Harry says. ‘You and Ellie used to moan about the noise we were making when we were practising in my mum’s front room last summer with the windows open.’

  ‘Oh, that band. Yes of course, how could I forget?’ I exchange a look with Stu. ‘Ellie, do you think your mum will have any plasters?’ I ask. ‘We seem to be out of them.’

  ‘Yeah, probably. Do you want me to go get some?’

  ‘If you could. Harry, would you go with Ellie, please, while I clean Stu up?’ I sit down in front of Stu with the cotton wool and the bowl of Dettol.

  ‘But it’s just over the road,’ Harry moans. ‘And she’s hardly going to get attacked wearing that, is she,’ he gestures at Ellie’s scarlet tartan dungarees. ‘One look and it would scare them away.’

  ‘As would your hair,’ I say. ‘So please, go with her, just to keep me happy?’ I smile imploringly at him.

  ‘Oh, all right,’ Harry says with a shrug of his shoulders. ‘Me nose has stopped bleeding now, and I guess Stu’s in a worse state than me.’

  ‘Oi!’ Stu protests.

  ‘Come on you,’ Harry says to Ellie, ‘let’s go.’

  So Ellie and Harry leave us alone in the kitchen.

  ‘Right, what do you know?’ Stu demands as soon as they go.

  ‘Hardly anything,’ I reply. ‘I just knew, as soon as you mentioned Jean-Claude Van Damme, that you couldn’t be from this era. No one knows about him yet, and they’re certainly not trying to emulate his kick-boxing moves.’

  ‘But who are you?’ Stu asks.

  ‘I’m Jo-Jo from 2013. I got hit by a car on a zebra crossing and
found myself in 1963, then it happened again on the same zebra crossing and I found myself here in 1977.’

  ‘Whoah!’ Stu exclaims, looking impressed. ‘I’ve only ever been here in this decade, nowhere else. I’m really Stuart from 1985 and I used to be roadie for a band. I was backstage, helping out at this huge outdoor gig at Wembley, massive it was at the time, and someone asked me to plug this cable into an amp. Usually I’d always check everything myself, but I didn’t on this occasion because it wasn’t us setting up the equipment. There was a fault – and boom! Next thing I know I find myself here, acting out life as this damn boy who thinks he’s cool and hard cos he’s got a daft haircut.’

  ‘God, how awful! How long ago was that?’

  Stu thinks. ‘About six months ago, I guess. Do you think that’s what I need to do, Jo-Jo, get electrified again, then I’ll go back? You used the same method to time travel twice, so maybe I need to.’

  ‘I don’t know about that.’ I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t advise someone to try electrocuting themselves. ‘I think mine was just a coincidence. Besides, you might just move on to another time zone, like me.’

  ‘True, but it’d be worth a shot – I bloody hate this life I’m in now.’

  ‘Then change it. Who says you have to continue being the anarchic punk, Stu? Be whatever it makes you happy to be.’

  ‘Ya think?’

  ‘Yes. You only get one life. Although in our case that’s not strictly true…’

  Stu grins. ‘You know what, I might just do that. You’ve given me some hope, Jo-Jo. If I do change, maybe I’ll get to go back one day.’

  ‘Perhaps…’

  ‘You know that dude Harry works for in the record shop? He told me something similar once – about being who I needed to be. I remember thinking at the time he was babbling about nothing. But it’s got to be worth a shot.’ His grin fades now. ‘I’m so lonely living here, Jo-Jo. I miss my friends and family back in 1985 so much.’