Ahead of his Time

by Adrian Cousins

  “Who, darling?”

  “Oh, yeah. Don’t worry, that’s another great movie we’ll have to plan to watch. Although we’ve about twenty years to wait for that one.”

  “Oh, okay, darling. We can add it to the list,” she chuckled.

  “How did you get on with Barry?”

  “Yes, he’s been very helpful. As I thought, she doesn’t have a leg to stand on, well, legally. As Beth is our adopted daughter, she has no rights.”

  “I thought so. That’s good news.”

  “Yes, it is. After talking to Barry, I feel so much better. But of course, that’s only legally, and I’m not sure that woman operates within the law.”

  “No, you’re right.”

  “Let’s talk to Daddy tonight and see what he thinks we should do.”

  “What time did we say to be at your mum and dads’?”

  “Have you lost your memory now?” she chuckled again. “I will go there straight after work, as Mum will be whacked out after having Beth all day and doing the school run to get Christopher. Will you be late?”

  “I might be as I’ve had a distress call from Jess this afternoon. She said she urgently needs to speak to me about Paul Colney. I think I need to go and find out what it’s all about.”

  “Oh no, not him again?”

  “Yes, exactly. That bloody family!”

  “You’re not going up the estate, are you?”

  “No, I said I’d meet her at six in the Bramingham Arms. I’ll quickly see what she’s got to say and be over about seven. Is that okay?”

  “Yes, darling. But please be careful, won’t you?”

  “I will, Mrs Apsley.”

  “Good to hear, Mr Apsley!”

  ~

  The Bramingham Arms Pub situated on Eaton Road often played host to the school teachers after a particularly difficult day and always after parents’ evenings, which were torrid affairs. It always seemed to be the ‘posh’ fathers who were not happy with their little ‘Jonny’s’ school report that caused the problems. Their views were it must be the teachers’ incompetence and not their own spoilt little brats who were the cause of the poor feedback received. So far, I’d only had the pleasure of one parents’ evening and according to my peers, it lived up to its typical hellish experience.

  I had to intervene to calm down a particularly obnoxious tosser who told Jayne Hart she was incompetent and should be at home doing a real woman’s job – which in his view was looking after her husband instead of ruining his child’s education. Then I had no choice but to get involved with another posh pillock. This particular prat said his son was destined to be Prime Minister and Colin Pool’s assessment of his son’s slow performance was totally inaccurate.

  Graham Holborn struggled with most lessons, and I knew it was due to his dyslexia. Although a recognised condition, I discovered that rarely did schools in this era accommodate and support pupils with this affliction. No, the way we dealt with it was to call them slow and drop them to the lower bands. Graham was exceptionally skilled at practical science experiments, verbally competent and had above-average intelligence. However, his written English and numerical skills were horrific.

  After trying to explain to a red-faced Mr Holborn that his son had dyslexia and we would like to support him with extra lessons, the conversation turned heated.

  Mr Holborn sprung up from his chair and warned me if I ever repeated the accusation his son had a ‘condition’, he’d see to it that I never taught again. He had connections, and members of his club would ensure I regretted what I’d said. Roy, a member of the same club, expertly smoothed things over in his office after I’d called Mr Holborn a dick-head. After this incident, Roy quite rightly reprimanded me about my choice of words but did agree with my assessment of Mr Holborn. During the whole unfortunate encounter, Mrs Holborn picked her fingernails and made no eye contact; I suspected she agreed with my assessment of her husband.

  After this eventful evening, we all hit the pub. Swigging our pints, G&T’s and glasses of wine, we collectively discussed the claim that Mr Holborn had made that his son was destined to be Prime Minister. We all agreed as most Prime Ministers managed to competently perform like dick-heads, and if Graham followed his father’s lead, it was highly likely.

  Over the five months of teaching, I’d gained the respect of my peers. That respect flew up several notches as they all recounted the evening’s events and specifically when I’d delivered my assessment of Mr Holborn for most of the assembly hall to hear.

  ~

  I arrived before Jess, so I grabbed a barstool and had a chat with Derek, the landlord. He knew most of the teachers by name and many of the sixth form students as well. But hey, it was his licence to worry about, not mine.

  After putting the world to rights with Derek, which involved slaughtering Jim Callaghan and Dennis Healy’s economic policies, Jess arrived before the conversation moved to religion. Thank God – no pun intended – as Derek was very opinionated and would’ve got on well with me in my previous life. Although an okay guy to chat to, Derek was a miserable bugger that reminded me of someone I wished to forget. Jess’s arrival saved me from regressing and becoming one of those wretched souls at the end of the bar, nursing a pint and feeling how unfair the world was.

  I ordered an orange juice for her, and a Coke to replace my half-drunk pint. Jess appeared quiet, and the radiance I’d seen from the last time we’d spoken had evaporated. As she had asked to meet, and the subject matter was all to do with Paul Colney, then no surprise. To get her away from that evil man, I thought Jenny’s suggestion about getting her into number eight when Martin moved on seemed like the best idea.

  Jess ran through the news that Paul Colney had admitted raping her – a shocking account. I held her hand as she re-lived the hideous events of that night after our first meeting. Although she was not my daughter, it hurt me to see her pain as if she was my own. This undoubtedly gave great sway to suggest Paul Colney was the rapist of the two women last year, which were in the news reports George had unearthed from the Chronicle archives. Presumably, it also confirmed he must be Martin’s father, suggesting his reign of terror continued for many years.

  I tried to think of any news stories when I was a teenager or young adult of a serial rapist caught in Fairfield, but I couldn’t. Therefore, I could only conclude, either he went on raping indiscriminately for decades or ran out of steam at some point. On his current run-rate, he could progress to rape over a hundred women. Paul Colney was turning out to be potentially as bad as his younger brother, David, would have been if I hadn’t dropped him off that roof last year.

  “Jess, you didn’t say why Patrick’s mum and Paul came around to your flat. Was it just to check up on you? You know, the baby situation.”

  Jess shook her head. She continued to hold my hand but used her Afghan coat’s other sleeve to wipe her eyes. “The day Paul hid his stash of drugs, I was angry with him … I wanted him to get out of the flat. Little did I know then the evil bastard had raped me the night before. He got physical with me, and there was a lot of shouting between us.” Jess blew out her cheeks and looked up to the ceiling; it appeared, willing herself not to cry again. “I yelled out that I wished the blokes who killed David had killed him as well.”

  I was concerned about where this conversation was going. “What blokes?” I asked too harshly, but Jess didn't notice my change of tone and carried on.

  “That’s what he said. I was across the fields at the back of Belfast house, the day David died … I saw it all happen. I wasn’t going to ever say anything as I was pleased that little pervert was dead. But I blurted it out after he tried to choke me to death. I thought of my baby … Patrick’s baby. So I just told him what I saw so he’d stop strangling me.”

  “Paul told Shirley, and Shirley came around to get more information. Is that correct?”

  Jess nodded. “I thought whoever killed him were low-life, same as Paul, so what did it matter?” She released our handh
old to fish around in her pockets for her cigarettes. Jess sat as she had in the Beehive with her elbow balanced on her knee as it jiggled up and down, causing her cigarette in her hand to bounce. Nerves, I presumed. “I don’t know what you must think of me.” She looked up as she dragged on her cigarette. “Are you disappointed?”

  Leaning across the table, I rested my hand on her arm. “Oh, Jess, no. Don’t you ever say that. You hear?”

  She nodded and continued to jiggle her knee whilst looking down to inspect her white boots.

  “You didn’t get a good look at these blokes on the roof when David died then?”

  “No.” She shrugged her shoulders. “The guy who sort of threw him off had a denim jacket on. I could see that much, and then I saw him, I dunno … ’bout an hour or so later leave the estate in a yellow Cortina.”

  It was my turn to fumble for my cigarettes. Sitting back, I afforded myself a moment to think. This was crazy how our lives were intertwined. Here she sat, my daughter, but not my daughter, but she thought I was her father. She witnessed me kill the brother of her unborn child’s father – the father of my best friend. Who is now my daughter. Well, alright, adopted daughter. And then this daughter, but really his daughter, sitting in front of me didn’t know it was me, her father, but not her father, but yes, her father, as far as she is concerned, kill her future brother-in-law. The very person, who in another life becomes a serial killer, and his older brother, who raped my daughter, is the father of Martin, my fellow time-traveller. Beth and Martin were cousins. To top it off, I now had the scary mad mother of these evil boys claiming to be the grandmother of my best friend, who is now my adopted daughter! “Jeeeesus!”

  Jess smiled. Well, more of a smirk. “You okay, Dad?”

  “Yup.” I leant forward. “I’m worried about you living up at the Broxworth. I have some ideas of how to get you into a house in a better part of town. In the meantime, I could rent a flat somewhere else so you’re not near that monster.”

  “Shirley will protect me. She said she’ll deal with Paul, whatever that means.”

  “Yep, I’ve no doubt she will. But will you consider my offer?”

  Jess nodded and blew smoke to the ceiling as a smile started to brighten up her face.

  “And you’re adamant you won’t report him?”

  This time she shook her head as she dragged hard and then stubbed out her cigarette. “Not worth it. Shirley would have me killed.”

  “Yep. I have no doubt she would.”

  42

  Honey Monster

  I grabbed some more drinks, temporarily halting Derek from depressing another punter who was slumped at the bar. When I returned to our seats, Jess had started to pull apart a beer mat and now formed a small heap of the damp card in the centre of the table.

  “I need Shirley to protect me now. Not only from Paul, but from whoever killed David.”

  “Why d’you say that?” I certainly knew she had nothing to fear from me; quite the opposite.

  “Shirley told me today Paul was certain he’d identified who killed David. He and Shirley are just now biding their time to deal with whoever it was. It could lead to warfare as they’ll deal with whoever in the Colney way, if you know what I mean?”

  “Yeah, I think I do.”

  “If David’s killers find out I saw them, which led to Paul finding them, it could put me in further danger.”

  I leant across and took hold of her hand. “Jess, ’cos of the baby you said Shirley will protect you? Why do you think you’d be in danger from these other men?”

  “Because they’ve murdered before … they might come after me now. Patrick and his father can’t help me. Paul is a psychopathic rapist with a short fuse. And Shirley, although terrifying, is only one woman! I don’t know who these men are, but sure as hell they’ll be dangerous.”

  I could feel her trembling as I held onto her hand. It might be a mistake, but I had to stop this girl from worrying herself to death.

  “Jess, I want you to listen to me.” I took a deep breath as one side of my brain screamed at the other not to do this. The internal cranial war carried on as Jess stared at me, waiting for me to continue.

  “What?”

  “Oh, God. Look, these other men aren’t going to harm you. I guarantee it.”

  Jess shook her head, frowning at me and clearly confused at what I was saying. “You don’t know that. The Colney family operate in a different world from the rest of us. I begged Patrick so many times to leave that life behind. But they’re just, well … just … hmmm.” She dropped her head, staring down at the table. “Dad, they deal with people their way. That’s what got Patrick into trouble by protecting his pervert brother. And these other men will be just like them. I know you must wonder why the hell I’m with Patrick.” She looked up at me, her eyes watering again. “Patrick is different. He has a gentle and loving side to him that others don’t see. You can’t help who you fall in love with, can you?”

  “No, Jess, you can’t. But I can promise you that you’re in no danger because the bloke who dropped David to his death was me.”

  Jess shook her head and released her hand from mine.

  “What?”

  “Jess, keep your voice down. It was me. But hell, I need to be able to trust you. You can never tell anyone! Only one other person knows, and if this gets out, I could go to jail or worse,” I replied in a hushed voice as I leant over the table.

  ‘Brilliant Apsley, you and your big mouth!’

  “It can’t be you. And why?” Jess blurted.

  “Shush!” I scanned around the pub. It was early, and fortunately there were very few punters. Of the few that were at the bar, none of them looked around following Jess’s outburst.

  “Look, Jess. I was up at the flats seeing a friend that day. David was defacing Carol Hall’s front door.”

  “Now my front door?”

  “Yes. I had dealings with David at school, and it was the final straw. You’re right when you said he was a pervert and he just needed stopping.”

  Jess narrowed her eyes. I could see in her face she was now wondering what type of man her father was. “So, you just decided to kill him!”

  “Oh, Jess, no. It was an accident. I chased him off, and he ran up to the roof. I was going to make him clean off the graffiti from Carol’s front door when he stumbled and fell. I tried to save him, but I just couldn’t hang on. It was an accident.”

  ‘No, it wasn’t! Don told you to let go, so you did. Stop kidding yourself, Apsley. You purposefully dropped him to his death!’

  “Oh shit. Dad, we have a big problem, and it's all my fault.”

  “What d’you mean, your fault?”

  “I said I saw the man and, if that’s you, I have unwittingly told that monster who you are.”

  “No you haven’t. Paul doesn’t know it’s me. Okay, he tracked down my old Cortina, but I sold it on to a second-hand car place. There’s no way he can find out it was me. Stop worrying.”

  “Dad, I think he does know. Shirley said that Paul had squeezed the information out of a car dealer on the other side of town. He tracked the car down last week, but the bloke who owns it had only just bought it. Paul apparently applied pressure on the car dealer this bloke got it from, and you can imagine what that was like?”

  ‘Told you, Apsley. You’re fucked, mate!’

  My mouth instantly dried. I gulped the last of my Coke as I tried to gather my thoughts. “Jess, he’s bluffing. The car dealer wouldn’t say who sold it to him. He can’t know, and I’m sure Paul wouldn’t risk getting caught by the police for assault.”

  “Dad! Understand who Paul Colney is. He doesn’t give a shit about the police, and he’s out of control. He’ll do anything to find out who killed David. I don’t think he really gives a shit about who killed him. But if he can find out, it will put him back in the good books with Shirley and his dad.”

  “His father is in jail … he can’t do anything.”

  Jess shook h
er head. “Paul Colney Senior can do what he likes, even from a prison cell.”

  Sitting back in my chair, I closed my eyes and scrubbed my hands over my face.

  ‘What you going to do now, you knob? You’re in the shit again!’

  Jess attacked her second beer mat, tearing small pieces off and making a pile in a ring-stain on the wooden table, carefully nudging the card pieces to stay inside the ring.

  “What else did Shirley say?”

  “Something about it was all coming together. When she and Paul had decided what to do, she’d get her granddaughter back.”

  “What?”

  Jess shook her head. “I dunno … it didn’t make any sense. I didn’t ask as Shirley Colney is not someone you challenge or ask questions of.”

  I thought of that last line Shirley had calmly thrown at me last night. I didn’t understand it at the time, but now it was clear. “We have unfinished business – you and me – you’ll see. Your time is nearly up, and when that happens, that little girl will be mine.”

  She knew last night that I’d killed her son. Mr Thacker must have spilt the beans when under pressure from Paul. I didn’t feel angry that he’d blabbed. No, anyone would have when faced with that monster who was about to kill you.

  “Dad, what we gonna do?”

  “Oh, bollocks, I don’t know. I guess I’m going to have to scare him off.”

  ‘What, you ’aving a laugh boy. Scare Paul Colney, a powder puff like you!’

  Jess shot me a confused look as she moved to rip apart her third beer mat. I imagined that was what Paul Colney was going to do to me – I shivered at the thought.

  “Dad, you’re not going to scare Paul Colney – he’s a monster and not the cuddly Honey Monster type.”

  A picture formed of little Christopher jumping around in front of the TV as the Honey Monster adverts played. Christ, I had to think of a way out of this mess. Otherwise, that little boy’s life was going to turn upside down again. Paul Colney will finish Jenny and me off in some accident. Shirley would have her revenge for David and then convince the authorities Beth was her grandchild. My best friend would return to the Broxworth, just as it was the first time, but not with her mother.