by Jason Ayres
Chapter Six
December 2018
Kay wasn’t sure how long she had been asleep but suddenly she found herself back in the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror. It was an odd sensation. She didn’t feel like she had just woken up and nor did she feel tired. Her return was instantaneous, almost as if she had been placed back into her body exactly when and where she had left it.
“Feels weird, doesn’t it?” said the angel. “Most people feel a bit disorientated at first. I call it time travel jetlag. You may have been in the past for a whole day, but here, no time has passed at all.”
“That’s handy,” replied Kay. “As I’m actually due in work this morning, and I can’t afford to lose this job. I don’t think they would need much excuse for sacking me, and failing to turn up on the last Saturday before Christmas would see me out on my ear for sure.”
“Well, best you get yourself off to work, then,” replied the angel.
“What about my next voyage to the past?” asked Kay. “I’m getting a taste for this now.”
“I find it works best if I let people have a twenty-four-hour break between trips,” replied the angel. “It gives them a chance to reflect on where they’ve been and plan properly for the next one.”
“That seems sensible enough,” said Kay. “I’ve got something in mind, but there’s someone I’m hoping to talk to first before I go. What I am planning to do in the past directly involves him.”
“There you are, then,” said the angel. “Get yourself all prepared then you can make the most of your time when you go back. Before I say goodbye for today, how did you feel your first trip went?”
“It went brilliantly!” exclaimed Kay. “Exactly as I hoped, and I even got to see that ex-worm of my husband snivelling and grovelling like the big baby he is and always was.”
“Fantastic,” said the angel. “Well, I must pop off and let you get ready for work now. I will see you back here again the same time tomorrow morning.”
As soon as she had spoken, the angel’s image was replaced by that of Kay’s own current self. It wasn’t a pretty picture and a solemn reminder that she wasn’t the beautiful, young version of herself that she had so enjoyed being again over the previous twenty-four hours.
Not wanting to gaze at her undesirable current appearance any longer than absolutely necessary, she hurriedly brushed her remaining teeth and headed back into the bedroom to get dressed. It was still freezing cold. She was going to have to speak to the landlord about it.
That was not a conversation she was looking forward to, but she had no choice. She would freeze to death up here if the weather stayed like it was. There would not be time to track him down this morning. It was five to nine and she needed to rush or she would be late for work.
There was no one in the chip shop downstairs anyway, but there never was at that time in the morning. She let herself out and walked the couple of hundred yards or so to the store as quickly as she dared on the icy ground. She arrived with seconds to spare and headed out the back to put on her overalls. It was going to be a busy day. The shop would be full of mums and dads buying last-minute Christmas presents and she would be rushed off her feet delivering the orders.
Half past five couldn’t come soon enough. As soon as the store closed, she was out of the door and heading home. On her way back she psyched herself up ready to confront her landlord about her heating and hot water. She knew from past experience it was unlikely to be a cordial conversation.
As soon as she approached the shop doorway, she spotted him. She could hardly miss him, sweaty mound of middle-aged blubber that he was. Entering the chippy, she could see that he was berating one of the younger members of staff, a friendly, young Eastern European girl called Anna who had served Kay several times in recent weeks.
“Do I make myself clear?” she heard McVie saying in his familiar Scottish twang. “Do I have to get a fucking Polish dictionary and write it down for you? It’s two scoops of chips per portion, not three. Are you trying to put me out of business? You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Then you can get all your family to come over here and take over my shop, just like your lot are taking over the rest of this country.”
The poor girl nodded her understanding, seemingly on the verge of tears. Turning away, McVie caught sight of Kay, who was standing horrified at the racist abuse she had just witnessed. Trying to keep her composure, she spoke quietly.
“Mr McVie, could I have a quick word, please?”
“Well, well, look what the cat’s dragged in,” replied McVie. “I’ve been waiting for you. I think it’s the other way round, don’t you? It’s about time I was having some serious words with you. I suggest we go up to the flat.”
The thought of having this revolting excuse for a human being up in her flat wasn’t a pleasant one, but since she was going to have to show him the malfunctioning heating she didn’t have a lot of choice. She unlocked the door and made her way up, hearing his heavy footsteps on the stairs behind her, and his wheezing as he grew short of breath after three or four steps.
“Nice arse,” he commented. “Shame about the face. Still you don’t look at the mantelpiece when you’re stoking the fire, do you?” He started guffawing loudly, as if he had just made the best joke in the world.
She had heard both these phrases before, on some ancient sitcom she had watched one night on ITV4. His pathetic attempts at sexist humour belonged in the past, along with his racist remarks to Anna. Ignoring the temptation to say something in retaliation, she tried to take the initiative as he dragged his flabby frame up the stairs and into her room.
“I’ll come straight to the point,” she said. “My heating and hot water have stopped working.”
“I already know,” he said, with a grin on his face that she didn’t like the look of one bit. “It was me who turned them off.”
“Why?” she said. “You can’t do that.”
“I can do whatever I like if you don’t pay the rent,” he said. “It was due three days ago, and your direct debit was declined by your bank. Pay up, and I’ll turn the heating back on.”
“I don’t have the money,” said Kay, softly. “I haven’t been paid yet. You expect a thousand a month for this flat and it’s daylight robbery.”
“That’s the going rate, my love,” replied McVie. He was standing uncomfortably close to her and the smell of his body odour mixed in with the all-pervading fishy smell that had permeated his clothes was overpowering. On top of that there was his breath which was seriously rank.
“Let me tell you,” he continued. “There are two types of people in this town these days. Those who own property, like me. And those who don’t, like you. It’s all a case of supply and demand. If you don’t want to pay the market rate, there are plenty of desperate mugs out there that will.”
“A thousand pounds might be the going rate for a decent flat, but look at the state of this place. Nothing works properly, you never do any maintenance, and as for health and safety, you must be joking. I’d like to know what the authorities would have to say about it. Where’s the smoke alarm? Where’s the gas safety certificate?”
She stopped as McVie advanced towards her, a look of pure menace in his eyes. For a moment she feared he was going to attack her.
“Don’t try getting clever with me, missy,” he said, “or your feet won’t touch the floor. You owe me money, and if it’s not paid by Christmas Eve then it’ll be the electricity I’ll be cutting off next. You’ll be cooking your turkey by candlelight. If you can even afford one, that is.”
“I haven’t got it, and you know it,” replied Kay. “I don’t get paid until next week. I’ve put a huge amount of overtime in this month, so I’ll be more than able to cover it then.”
“That’s no good to me, love,” said McVie. “I’ve got expenses to pay. I’m planning a big trip up to Scotland next week for Hogmanay and I need some spends.”
“Please, Mr McVie,” pleaded Kay, despising herself for having to
grovel to this disgusting man. “Cut me some slack. I’ll be able to give you 800 quid next week. Maybe I could do a few shifts in the shop downstairs for you to make up the rest.”
“Why should I need you to do that?” said McVie. “I’ve got plenty of migrant workers that are willing to work for under the minimum wage. No questions asked, no tax, no National Insurance.” He paused, eyeing up Kay’s body. “You know you may be an ugly cow but you haven’t got too bad a body for you, considering your age. How old are you? Fifty?”
“I’m forty-three, and what’s that got to do with anything?” Kay was incensed at his comments.
He moved closer, invading her personal space once more, forcing her to shrink back towards the bed.
“You know you wouldn’t be too bad if it weren’t for those teeth. Turn around and show me your arse again,” he demanded.
“You can fuck off,” replied Kay, finally snapping and raising her voice. “What the fuck do you think I am?”
“Come off it, love, don’t be shy. I’ve seen you bringing all sorts of dodgy fellas up here over the past few months. If you can’t pay me the money you owe me, then you can pay me in kind. You might be putting on a bit of weight, but I’m not fussy. You’ll do.”
“You must be bloody joking!” shouted Kay. He was still moving towards her, a disgusting look of lust in his little piggy eyes that bulged out of his pudgy face. As she backed slowly away, she reached the edge of the bed and now tripped, falling backwards, spreadeagling herself on the mattress.
“Yes, that’s the idea, sweetheart. Come on, come to Daddy, you know it makes sense. Two hundred short, you say? Well, let’s call that four shags and a blowie between now and when I leave for Scotland next week, plus the 800 quid you’ve got coming next week and we’ll call it quits until next month.”
With that, he bellyflopped down onto the bed, trying to pin her down underneath him. Fitter and slimmer than him, she just about managed to wriggle out of his way and jump up. Running across to the window, she wrenched it open, part of the rotting wooden frame coming away in her hand.
“Let’s get something clear,” she said firmly, trying to disguise the fear in her voice. “No matter how desperate I get, I have no intention of selling myself for money, and especially not to a disgusting pig like you. Now you’ve got ten seconds to get off that bed and get out that door, or I swear I’ll scream rape out of this window.”
Kay meant every word, and felt strangely euphoric as she said it. Perhaps she had brought some of her youthful fire back from her recent trip to the past. She had not felt this strong and energised for a very long time. Whatever the reason for her newfound bravado, her forceful stance had the desired effect.
Wheezing as he winched his gargantuan frame off the bed, McVie looked furious, but with relief she saw that he was cooperating. For one horrible moment there she had thought that he really was going to force himself upon her.
He walked towards the door, but when he got there he turned back, unable to resist having a final dig.
“You think you’re a big, brave lassie, but I can have you anytime I want. Right now, I’ve got other fish to fry.”
Under other circumstances, this might have seemed like a reasonable pun, assuming he was referring to the chip shop, but Kay was in no mood for jokes.
“Just get out,” she ordered.
“Don’t fret. I’m out of here – for now, but this isn’t over. Oh, and I suggest you get yourself a nice, warm jumper, because you’re going to need it. That heating’s staying off and it’ll be the electricity next.”
With that, he turned on his heels and clumped back down the stairs.
The rush of adrenalin she had felt during the confrontation was now fading, supplanted by relief of the sort that made her burst into tears. Composing herself, she went into the bathroom and did her best to make herself presentable. As she had explained to the angel, there was someone that she was hoping to see tonight and she wanted to make a good impression on him.
She felt hungry, and on any other night would have gone downstairs to get some chips. Despite the scene she had witnessed downstairs earlier, she knew that Anna would give her an extra-large portion of chips. She had formed quite a rapport with the young Polish girl who was one of the few people around who seemed to have any time for Kay these days. But tonight she decided to give it a miss.
Going downstairs could mean running into McVie again, and she didn’t want to do anything that would get Anna into trouble. She wouldn’t put it past McVie to sexually harass her as well after the conversation earlier. He really was an absolute bastard. Not the same type of bastard as Alan, but a bastard all the same.
She seemed to attract them in all shapes and sizes. Did she have some sort of tracking device buried somewhere inside that enabled them to home in on her? It certainly seemed that way and it had been going on ever since that fateful night of the summer ball when she had taken up with Glen a quarter of a century ago.
But tonight was going to be different, because there was one man who she knew was different. His name was Richard Kent, a retired policeman whom she had known since her schooldays. She had had a crush on him then, and she still had it now, though she had reluctantly accepted that nothing was ever going to come of it. He was married and had firmly rebuffed all her advances towards him.
She hadn’t pushed it. She wasn’t a homewrecker, despite her recent behaviour and after the experience of having her teeth punched out it would be very foolish of her to make the same mistake again. She had only seen his wife, Debs, a couple of times but those were enough to show Kay that she wasn’t someone to get on the wrong side of.
On one of those occasions, just a couple of weeks ago, Debs had made a scene by turning up at the pub one Saturday lunchtime and dragging him out over some unfulfilled promise to take her Christmas shopping. Another time, he had stayed in the pub so long one afternoon that she had brought his Sunday dinner down to the pub and slapped it down on the bar in front of him.
No, Mrs Kent was not a woman to be trifled with. But that was OK because nothing was going to happen between Kay and her husband – at least not in this place and at this time. But what Kay had in mind would be taking place in the past before Kent had even met his wife. Not only that, it would not even be in the same universe.
A few weeks ago, Kay and Kent had got talking in the pub. He was in there a lot these days since he had lost his job, and they had rekindled their friendship that dated back to schooldays.
That night they had a heart-to-heart conversation about the end-of-term ball and the turn of events that had led to her ending up in the disastrous relationship with Glen. Emboldened by alcohol, she had worn her heart on her sleeve and told him everything.
When she revealed how Glen had manipulated her into being his ball date and explained how deep down she had wanted to go with Kent instead, she could see that she had caught his attention.
Since that conversation she had noticed a distinct change in the way he was around her. Before he had clearly found her attentions irritating towards her, but his attitude had now softened considerably. She knew this wasn’t in an amorous or lustful way: he had made that quite clear. What he had done was go out of his way to be friendly towards her, asking her how she was getting on and offering her advice on her troubles.
Perhaps he felt sorry for her and was trying to make up for her disappointment in the past. Whatever the reason, something had definitely changed between them, and it was a welcome change. Apart from him and Anna, she couldn’t think of a single other person she could even begin to class as a friend. She had plenty of other acquaintances in the pub, but they weren’t real friends, just fellow drinkers down on their luck normalising each other’s behaviour as they drowned their sorrows together.
During her boring day lugging packages out of the stockroom at work, she had been given plenty of time to work out a plan for her next trip back into time. Ever since that conversation with Kent in the pub, her thoughts had fr
equently drifted back to that ball and how things might have turned out differently.
That night with Glen had been the point when the seeds of her problem had been sown. She had lost her virginity to him that very night, underneath the slide in one of the kids’ playgrounds on the new estate. It had all been very undignified and unsatisfactory. She had accepted it at the time as most girls said the first time wasn’t anything to write home about, but with Glen, things didn’t improve with practice.
She didn’t know much better at the time, having no one else to compare him to, but she suspected things were not quite right. Sex with him certainly wasn’t the mind-blowing experience that the articles in her More! magazines suggested it should be.
How different might that first time have been if it had been Kent who had taken her home that night? Well, she was going to do her utmost to find out. But before she did, she wanted the chance to talk to his present self again about the events of that day. In particular, she wanted to ensure that he would have gone with her given the opportunity. From what he had said before, she was pretty sure he would have.
She cleaned herself up as best she could with no hot water available, put on some lipstick and tried to make her hair semi-presentable. It wasn’t perfect but it would have to do. Ignoring the rumblings in her stomach, she rushed through the chip shop, managing to avoid being spotted by McVie who was busy counting the money in the till. Then she was out through the door, heading for The Red Lion on another chilly December night.
Chapter Seven
December 2018
It was busy when she got to The Red Lion, but not so much as the previous night when the dance floor area at the top had been so rammed that she had struggled to fight her way through to the toilets.