Midlife Crisis (Second Chances Book 1)

by Jason Ayres

  The two Chelsea fans went off grumbling towards the lunchtime barbecue that was now being served on the other side of the pool. Kent could see the terrible twins in the distance getting their daily Quad Burgers and decided to wait a while. With the two big blue blobs joining the two smaller red blobs, there was unlikely to be much food available for a while.

  After lunch, Luke and Jack both wanted to go to the kids’ club which ran from 2.30 to 4.30. With them out of the way, Kent settled down on the sun lounger next to Debs but he wasn’t to be there long. She turned over on her sunbed and said:

  “Fancy a siesta?” and winked at him. It seemed he wasn’t going to have to wait until the night after all. They went up to their room to enjoy a very sweaty and enjoyable hour or so together, in which Kent was amazed to find he was able to perform twice. He had forgotten how much energy and stamina he used to have: that was definitely something that had declined with age. But there wasn’t any point stressing about it.

  The way he saw it, no matter how healthily or unhealthily people lived their lives, they could not fight the passage of time. A tennis player could win a Grand Slam at thirty, or a footballer could score the winner in an FA Cup Final. By forty, both would be finished. So he shouldn’t feel dispirited any longer about his lost youth and aging body. It was a purely natural process.

  Yes, there were things he could do to lessen the blow, and he was going to make a real effort to live more healthily in the future, but the bare facts were simple. His chronological age in 2018 was forty-two and the time had come to accept that.

  He had taken five trips back through time now, visiting four different decades. He had seen life through his eyes again at the age of seven, seventeen, thirty and thirty-five. Those snapshots had put everything into perspective. He knew now that he was happy with the person he was, and he was ready to move on with the rest of his life.

  He had just one more trip to make and an idea was forming in his mind as to how to best make use of it. Unless the angel was reading his mind right now, this was going to come as a surprise.

  For now, he was going to enjoy the rest of his day. Returning to the pool later in the afternoon, he eagerly joined in the water polo and excelled himself, making the most of his thirty-year-old vigour to score three goals. He didn’t have the Chelsea boys to worry about this time. Water polo was far too strenuous an activity for them. They just watched on from their seats at the bar, well onto their sixth pints of the day.

  After dinner, he delighted in seeing his boys taking part in the mini-disco that always began the evening entertainment. He had often found this sort of thing tedious in the past, but not this time. It was the last chance he was going to get to see his boys doing this sort of thing. In a few short years, a combination of increasing self-awareness and peer pressure would put an end to it. But right now, seeing the two of them doing all the actions to “I am the Music Man”, “Hokey Cokey” and “Cha Cha Slide” made his day.

  The whole time they were up there, they kept looking over to him for reassurance and to check that he was watching. He made sure he caught their eyes and clapped enthusiastically at every opportunity. When Luke came back over he jumped up onto Kent’s lap and said, “I love you, Dad.”

  “You can’t buy that,” said another father sitting at the next table.

  No, you certainly can’t, thought Kent. And to think, when he had started this whole travelling back into time thing, all he had thought about was money. What he had here was worth a million times more than any of that. Yes, he had to go back to his own time when they were teenagers but it was by no means over. Jack and Luke would grow up to have families of their own and when that happened he vowed that he would become the best grandfather in the world.

  There was one final highlight to the evening, the daily awarding of the certificates for the various activities. Kent felt very proud as Luke was called up onto the stage for being the best artist at the kids’ club, followed by Jack who won best dancer at the disco.

  Kent soon followed them, called onto the stage to collect two certificates, one for the pool and one for man of the match at the water polo. He stood proudly on the stage with the boys on either side of him. They held up their certificates, posing for Debs as she took a photo.

  This all happened to the sound of “We Are the Champions” to which everyone sang along, with the exception of the Chelsea boys. They were standing disgruntled at the bar knocking back their eleventh pints of the day. It was a rare day when they had not won anything and they were not happy about it.

  By contrast, up on the stage, Kent was very happy. He could not remember a time he had felt quite as good about life as he did at that moment. Even Tess and Tina coming onto the stage to sing a truly dreadful rendition of “I Will Survive” couldn’t dampen his mood.

  Coming back here for the day had been a good choice. He had come to terms with his past and his present. Now the time had come to think about his future.

  The Next Life

  November 2028

  Not wanting the angel to read his thoughts, Kent focused his mind on one thing and one thing only when he arrived back in the car park.

  Over and over again, he replayed scenes in his mind of the fantastic day when he and his father had gone to Wembley Stadium to watch England play Holland. It was Euro ’96 and England had put on that rarest of things at a major football tournament – a convincing display and a resounding win. It had all been downhill since then, culminating in an utterly humiliating defeat to Iceland in Euro 2016 that left him vowing never to watch England again.

  He had no idea how powerful the angel’s telepathic abilities were. Attempting to shield his thoughts in this way might be about as effective as a man of his dimensions hiding behind a lamp-post. The angel didn’t give any indication that it knew his true intentions as to his final destination, but he wasn’t taking any chances. With a quick farewell, he got away as quickly as possible before he let his guard slip.

  It was early on Friday evening, Kent’s favourite time of the week. Just as he had almost every Friday night since before he got married, he headed straight to The Red Lion for a few pints. It had been his way of relaxing at the end of the working week, but saw no reason why the tradition should not continue. Debs wouldn’t approve, but then she never did.

  It was the end of November and the air was bitingly cold, the sort that suggested snow was on the way, not that there had been much of that in recent years. Debs blamed global warming for the run of mild winters they had been having. Well, if it was global warming, it certainly wasn’t noticeable today, thought Kent. By the time he arrived at the pub his fingers and toes were almost numb with the cold. He was very pleased to take in the welcome sight of the log fire blazing away.

  He wasn’t so pleased to see that Kay was at the bar next to Andy. Could he look her in the face, knowing what the two of them had got up to in another place and another time? He willed himself to man up and just act normally. There was nothing to worry about. Whatever had happened elsewhere, this Kay would be completely unaware of it.

  When he reached the bar, Craig and Andy were embroiled in one of their usual arguments. For once, it wasn’t about the price of the beer or Andy upsetting the other customers, but an altogether more serious matter. The drinkers who treated The Red Lion as if it were their second home were facing the possibility of unwanted change.

  “You can’t leave, mate,” Andy was saying. “It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

  “I’m telling you, I’m through with this place. Just look around you! It’s the last Friday of the month and the place is dead. Everyone got paid today, so where are they? Not in here, that’s for sure.”

  “I’m here. Don’t I spend enough?” asked Andy.

  “Yes, that goes without saying. Why do you think I keep letting you back in here when you’re barred from most of the other pubs in town? If I had another dozen like you, then I might survive, even if they were all pains in the arse, but your sort a
re a dying breed. No offence.”

  “Well thanks very much,” said Andy, looking very much offended. “Now we know where we stand. And there I was thinking we were mates.”

  “The pub trade is finished, Andy. People just aren’t coming out like they used to. The world’s changed and it’s time to face facts. Once your generation dies off that will be the end of it. As soon as I can find someone to take over the lease, I’m out of here.”

  He turned to Kent, who had been listening to this whilst waiting patiently at the bar. “Usual, Richard?”

  Kay and Andy hadn’t seen him sidle up quietly to the bar, but they both made a beeline for him now.

  She looked at him, her drunken, bloodshot eyes devoid of any of the passion and fire of the eighteen-year-old girl she had once been. It was still a strange sensation, seeing her after all that had happened. But this was not the same Kay, a different person in a different time. She had no intimate knowledge of him and they had no shared past.

  This was probably for the best. If she had any memory of their past, it would only encourage her to keep trying it on with him and he didn’t want to think of this version of her in that way at all. Not only that, it might also get back to Debs who would no doubt come down to the pub and knock her remaining teeth out.

  He was finding this whole situation extremely painful to deal with. He no longer felt repulsed by her, as he had before, just saddened. To see this woman, once so vibrant and full of hopes and dreams, reduced to this sorry state was quite heartbreaking.

  “Hello, darling,” she said drunkenly. “I’ve missed you.”

  He was lost for words, really not sure how to reply, but he didn’t have to. Andy came to his rescue and intervened. Normally Andy’s interruptions were a nuisance, but on this occasion he was grateful.

  “Tell this idiot he can’t leave,” said Andy. “If he goes, what will happen then? This place will get taken over and ruined like all the others. Where will we drink then?”

  For once, Kent was in total agreement with Andy. This was the only decent pub in the town left. If it ended up turning into another Italian bistro, or even worse, a coffee shop, there would be nowhere left for them to go.

  “Surely things can’t be that bad, Craig?” asked Kent.

  “Look, how many times have we had this conversation recently? Do you want me to carry on until I’m totally bankrupt and get chucked out onto the streets?”

  “I’d take it over if I had the money,” said Andy.

  “You’d drink all the profits,” replied Craig. “Not that there are any these days.”

  “I’ll make it worth your while if you stay,” said Kay, suggestively.

  “Thanks, but I’ll pass if it’s all the same with you.”

  It was clear that Craig’s mind was made up. Despite the three of them presenting a rare united front to try and persuade him to stay, they had to face the likelihood that the days of having Craig at the helm were numbered.

  Would the pub still be there in the future? Was it doomed to disappear like all the others? Kent might be able to find out, if the angel agreed to his proposal for the following day.

  He had considered at great length what he was going to say when he returned to the car park for his final trip on Saturday afternoon. As before, he shielded those thoughts as he approached their meeting point, concentrating again on the England game from Euro ’96.

  “Here we are then,” said the angel, cheerfully. “Five down, one to go. How do you feel it has all gone?”

  “It’s been brilliant,” said Kent, which it honestly had been. He really was feeling much better about everything now. Thoughts of suicide were long behind him and if this final trip worked out, he might well feel even better.

  Elaborating, he added, “I’ve settled a few old scores, relived some great moments and I really feel ready to move on with my life now. I know I seemed a bit angry and resentful when things didn’t go exactly as planned at first, and I apologise for that. But now, it’s all good.”

  “That was all part of the learning curve,” said the angel. “Most people take a few trips to get the hang of it, that’s why I offered you six. It seems to be about the right number for most people.”

  “I agree,” said Kent. “One more and I’ll be happy.” With that remark, he focused his thoughts once again on the memory of Alan Shearer slotting in England’s second goal.

  “Let me guess, Euro ’96?” asked the angel.

  So you aren’t all-powerful after all, thought Kent. His efforts to shield his thoughts had been successful. Who would have thought a mere mortal like him could have outwitted it?

  “Actually, no,” said Kent, relaxing the hold on his mind to allow his true intentions to come to the fore. The angel instantly picked up on them.

  “Oh, no, that’s highly irregular,” said the angel. “I couldn’t allow that.”

  “Why not?” replied Kent.

  “Well, no one’s ever asked for that before. And anyway, that wasn’t part of the deal.”

  “Are you sure about that?” asked Kent. “You clearly stated that I could visit any day of my life that I wanted to. You never actually specified that it had to be in the past.”

  “No, I didn’t, but it must have been pretty clear what I meant. Why do you think I set Universe 2.0 up for you?”

  “So I couldn’t make changes to history,” replied Kent. “But that won’t matter in the future, will it? Nothing I do there is going to change anything in the here and now, is it?”

  “What if you don’t like what you see in the future?” replied the angel. “What’s to stop you taking a different path once you get back here to 2018? You could alter future history.”

  “Can’t you just trust me? What if I promise that I won’t? Cross my heart and hope to die and all that,” said Kent. “And anyway, even if I did, I’m sure you’ve got enough powers to do something about it. Just create another copy and revert to that if things go wrong. Or send me back here and wipe my memory if things look bad in the future. Then I wouldn’t be able to do anything differently, would I?”

  “I suppose it could be done,” admitted the angel. “It’s not something I would agree to, generally. But since you have provided me with a lot of entertainment, I guess I could allow it, just this once.”

  “You won’t regret it,” replied Kent, hoping that he wouldn’t, either. This was a bit of a gamble. He may well not like what he saw in the future, but he felt that he had to find out. His trips to the past had given him a fresh perspective on life that had stripped away the disillusionment he had felt at the onset of middle age. But that was only half the picture. To see what lay in the other direction, the great undiscovered country that was the future, that was truly the ultimate adventure.

  These thoughts brought to mind a very old story, one that had been retold many times.

  “Think of yourself as the ghost of Christmas past, present and future,” he said to the angel. “Scrooge got to see himself in the future, and that turned out alright, didn’t it?”

  “That was just a story,” the angel said. “And if you recall, Scrooge didn’t have much of a future until he decided to change it, which is exactly what you just promised not to do!”

  “Was it just a story?” asked Kent. “I wonder. You’ve been around a long time, judging on what you said the other day about Jack the Ripper. Dickens only lived a few decades before him. Could it be that you paid him a visit and that’s where he got the idea from?”

  “I couldn’t possibly tell you that. It’s a question of client confidentiality,” said the angel. “Even if I had, I certainly wouldn’t have taken Dickens into the future. If he decided to write that into the story afterwards, then it was all down to his own imagination.”

  “Because it was a good idea, that’s why,” said Kent, wondering if the angel really had given Dickens the idea for A Christmas Carol. So many strange things had happened in recent days, he could believe just about anything by now.

  “It w
as a good story, admittedly,” replied the angel.

  “Look, this is how I see it,” said Kent. “You’ve let me relive my past to come to terms with my present. Now I’m ready to look to the future, but all I need is a little nudge in the right direction. Show me where I will be in ten years’ time, and then I can work towards it.”

  “What if you’re dead in ten years?” asked the angel. “Do you want to spend the day rotting in a grave?”

  “I’m not, am I?”

  “No, you’re not.”

  That was a relief. He had at least a decade left, then. He could achieve a lot in ten years.

  “That’s what I want, then. I want you to send me forward exactly ten years in time from today. Show me the future.”

  “Very well,” said the angel. “But you’ve got to promise me that whatever you see, you will not try and use it to your advantage or alter anything when you return. And definitely no looking up horse racing results! Because I will be watching, and I will come back and sort it out if you do. Are we agreed?”

  “It’s a deal,” replied Kent, and he meant it. The angel’s omnipotence had been wholly benevolent up until now but he had absolutely no desire to get on the wrong side of it.

  “Right then, let’s get started,” said the angel. “Just to let you know, we won’t meet again after this. I won’t be here when you get back, so I guess it’s time to say goodbye.”

  “Aren’t you going to tell me who you are first?” asked Kent. “After all of this, surely it won’t do any harm.”

  “Do you really need to know all the answers?” replied the angel. “Does it really matter who or what I am? Look, you’ve had a fantastic adventure with my help so why not leave it at that? Why not keep an element of mystery about it? Draw your own conclusions and think of me, well, as whatever you would like me to be.”