by Jason Ayres
Down at the front of the pub, where the older regulars gathered, she could see the usual suspects at the bar. Kent was there, deep in discussion with a couple of others. Further up the pub, on the right-hand side, she could see a bunch of teenagers who were often in the pub playing pool. To the left of them, the dance floor area was pretty quiet but it was only half past seven. The disco wouldn’t be starting for over an hour yet.
Sidling up to the bar, she picked up the gist of the conversation that was going on. Andy, one of the pub’s regular alcoholics was talking about the news story that had been on everyone’s lips the past few days – the double murders in Oxford and Kidlington.
“Where’s Inspector Morse when you need him, eh?” remarked Andy, before lifting his freshly poured pint to his mouth to take a swig of lager. He didn’t quite hit the target, which was surprising because it wasn’t as if he hadn’t had enough practice. As a consequence, a few drips dribbled down his chin and onto the ancient denim jacket that he always wore. Kay wondered how many he had had today. She knew he started at lunchtimes most days and had clearly been on a mission judging by the wet patches all the way down both the jacket and his matching jeans.
“I’m sure the police are on the case,” replied Kent.
Kay knew all about the murders. There was a radio in the back of the warehouse at work. It was tuned into the local radio station and she had heard updates on the hourly news bulletins, in between the bland, predictable playlist and amateurish adverts for local businesses.
The first murder had taken place six days ago in the Summertown area of Oxford, followed four days later by a second in Kidlington. It hadn’t taken a genius to work out the murders were connected. Both the victims were young, Eastern European women, and both had been raped and then knifed to death. The whole grisly affair had shocked the community, and the press had been all over it. It hadn’t taken them long to come up with a nickname for the suspect once the connection between the two murders had been revealed – the somewhat unimaginative “Christmas Killer”.
“You were the police until not long ago,” said Andy to Kent. “What would you have done?”
“Well, we would have made door-to-door enquiries, taken forensic evidence from the scene…” began Kent, before Andy interrupted, not really interested in the content of Kent’s answer, only in dismissing it.
“So bugger all, then,” said Andy. “Well, I just hope the Oxford police do a better job of it than you would have. Good job these murders weren’t in this town – the residents would be scared shitless if you were still in charge.”
Ever since Kent had lost his job, Andy had been sticking the boot in. Kay thought he could do with some moral support.
“That’s a bit harsh, Andy,” said Kay, seizing her chance to enter the conversation. “I thought he was the best head of local police we ever had.”
Andy looked up, registering her presence for the first time through his booze-laden eyes. “Oh, it’s you. Well, you would say that, wouldn’t you? Everyone knows you’re desperate to shag him. Though God knows why: I doubt whether he’s even up to it, look at the size of him. I doubt whether he can even find it these days.”
“Actually I’ve lost a bit of weight recently,” said Kent defensively. “I’m under eighteen stone now.”
“I thought so,” said Kay, looking at him closely. He was definitely looking slightly less flabby and a little more toned. “Have you joined a gym?”
“I just had a bit of a re-evaluation of my life recently,” he replied. “After I lost my job it would have been easy to let myself slide into middle-aged sloth and eaten and drunk myself into an early grave. I guess I just realised I’m only forty-two, and I’ve plenty to live for. So I’ve started exercising and cut down on the post-pub food.”
“You say that, but you’re still knocking back the booze,” commented Andy.
He really was an irritating pain in the arse, thought Kay, constantly interrupting other people’s conversations. She was not going to be able to have the discussion she wanted to have with Kent while Andy was there, interjecting his snide remarks at every opportunity.
She would have to get him away from the bar. Andy wouldn’t follow them: once he got on his bar stool he was practically superglued to it for the night. But first she needed a drink. In the few minutes since she had entered the pub, it had started to get very busy and, distracted by the conversation, she had taken her attention away from the bar. She seriously had to get that first drink of the day inside her.
There seemed to be only two barmaids on duty and they were buzzing around at a serious rate of knots trying to keep up with the sudden influx of customers. Some were waving notes across the bar in impatient attempts to catch the bar staff’s attention. That wouldn’t work, thought Kay. In her experience bar staff hated that.
She would have to face the bar and try and catch someone’s eye if she was ever to get a drink this evening. She turned away from Andy and Kent temporarily and concentrated on the business in hand, eavesdropping as they continued their conversation.
“You can hardly talk,” Kent was saying. “If I was going to put a bet on anyone in this pub drinking themselves to death, you’d be an odds-on favourite.”
“I’d die happy, though,” said Andy. “Anyway, stop changing the subject. I want the inside info on these murders. Are the police anywhere near catching him?”
“I don’t know why you think I’m privy to that knowledge, Andy,” replied Kent. “As you so gleefully point out at every opportunity, the police have decided to dispense with my services. Much as I’d appreciate the extra cash, sadly they have not been on the phone begging me to come back to help them crack this case.”
“Now there’s a surprise,” remarked Andy sarcastically. “But still, you must still be in touch with your old colleagues. What about that new D.I. Benson? You could ask her, couldn’t you?”
“Why would I want to?” asked Kent. “It’s not something desperately eating away at my soul. Besides, it’s not on her patch. She’s responsible for this town, not what goes on in Oxford and Kidlington. She probably knows no more than I do.”
“Which is nothing, by the sound of it,” said Andy. “I don’t like her anyway. She tried to do me for dropping a fag end outside the pub a while back. Didn’t make it stick, though, did she? I was too clever for her.”
As was so frequently the case, Kent was becoming irritated by Andy’s endless piss-taking so he decided it was time to put the boot on the other foot.
“Why are you so interested anyway? Anyone would think you had something to hide. Have you?”
“I’m not the murderer, if that’s what you’re implying,” answered Andy defensively. “Anyway, I’ve got an alibi. I was in here when both of them took place.”
“Wow, really? I never would have guessed,” said Kent, turning Andy’s earlier sarcasm back at him. “Do you ever go anywhere else?”
Kay had finally managed to catch the eye of one of the barmaids, a young, punky-looking girl with dyed pink hair. Taking hold of her first drink of the night, she lifted it to her lips and took a large, glorious swig of vodka and Coke. She immediately felt better as the strong alcohol slipped down her throat. It was time to get on with what she had come here to do.
She had heard every word of the conversation between Kent and Andy. Despite having her eyes firmly fixed forward towards the bar, rather than on them, it hadn’t been difficult to pick up on Kent’s irritation with Andy. Turning back towards him, she could see from the annoyed look on his face that he had had enough, so now seemed a good time to intervene.
Catching his eye, she spoke. “Richard, can we talk in private for a minute?”
He looked a little startled by this. Perhaps it was because she had used his first name. Everyone else just called him Kent. And he wasn’t the only one to notice this.
“There you go, I knew it!” exclaimed Andy. “First-name terms! I knew there was something going on between you two!”
; He turned to the bar, seeking confirmation from the landlord, who had just appeared, called downstairs by one of the stressed barmaids to help man the pumps. “Didn’t I say so, Craig?”
“Did you?” said Craig. “I don’t remember that. But then, quite honestly, most of what you say goes in one ear and out the other these days. It kind of gets a bit repetitive after a while.”
“I bet you a tenner they were having an affair,” replied Andy. “Come on, pay up.”
“I don’t remember that,” said Craig.
“You must do,” protested Andy. “Nobby was here when we made the bet, he’ll back me up.”
“Well, he’s not here, now, is he?” replied Craig.
“He’s gone to Towcester Dogs, tonight,” said Andy. “He’s got a dead cert running there. Apparently he got it off that bloke who sells those dodgy TV boxes at Finmere market.”
“Who? Nobby or the dodgy TV box guy?” replied Craig.
As they continued their argument, Andy’s attention was drawn away from Kay and Kent, who hadn’t said anything for the past couple of minutes. He was just standing there with a resigned look on his face, shaking his head slightly at the usual pointless banter going on all around him.
Kay glanced towards the front window of the pub where there was a small table with two chairs free. Two teenage girls were getting up from the table, draining the last of their drinks and putting on their coats. The table wouldn’t last long, not on a Saturday. She needed to make a beeline for it before anyone else grabbed it.
“Just ignore them,” said Kay. “Come on, Richard, come over here for a minute. I want to ask your advice on something.”
She saw him looking at her and hoped that he would take her seriously. She wasn’t drunk yet, after all, and hadn’t acted like the desperate, middle-aged tart she had probably come across as in the recent past.
“Come on, then,” he agreed. “I could do with a break from this idiot.”
They managed to get away from Andy unnoticed, as he was still trying to wheedle money out of Craig. Their getaway was timely, as the punky barmaid had decided enough was enough and had intervened between Craig and Andy, desperate to try and get Craig to serve some customers. Kay had noticed that the landlord didn’t seem to be that bothered with doing much in the way of work recently. His heart really didn’t seem to be in the place anymore.
They made it to the table, just before a couple of fat blokes in Oxford United shirts bagged it and sat down.
“What’s all this about, Kay?” asked Kent, looking a little wary. “I don’t want those two up there gossiping about us. If it gets back to Debs it’ll be my chestnuts roasting on an open fire this Christmas.”
“Relax,” replied Kay. “I’m not after your body. Well, not in this universe anyway.”
Kent noticeably perked up at this. “What do you mean by that?” he asked. She had clearly caught his attention.
“Well, the thing is,” she began. “I’ve been thinking about that conversation we had a few weeks ago about the end-of-term ball. Do you remember? When I told you how Glen tricked me into letting him take me to the ball instead of you?”
“Yes,” replied Kent, leaning forward intently. “Go on.”
“Well, I know it was all a long time ago,” she said. “But you must remember that night.”
“As it happens, I remember it better than you can possibly imagine,” said Kent. “But perhaps not in the same way that you do,” he added cryptically.
Now it was Kay’s interest that was piqued. What did he mean by that? she wondered. It was an odd remark, but she decided to put it to one side for the moment and press on with what she wanted to say.
“Well, have you ever considered how different our lives might have been if things had taken another path?” she asked. “What would have happened if you had taken me to the ball instead of Glen?”
Now he was looking extremely interested. He looked her intently in the eye and paused to consider his words before he spoke again.
“I have thought about it a great deal, as it happens,” he replied. “More than you can possibly know. But what I’m more interested in right now is your sudden interest in the subject – in particular, why?”
She hadn’t expected him to show this much interest. Encouraged by it, she continued on, eager to see what his response would be to his next question.
“Well, let’s just say, for argument’s sake, that I could go back in time to that day, ditch Glen and go to the ball with you instead. Do you think we would have got it together? I don’t just mean on that night, but afterwards, too. Like boyfriend and girlfriend? I know if you had wanted to, I wouldn’t have said no.”
“I can’t believe you’re asking me this,” said Kent, the look on his face now bordering on the incredulous. “It’s just too big a coincidence.”
“What is?” asked Kay.
“What you are talking about doing – going back in time. What put that thought in your head? Or should I perhaps say who? Someone who may have offered you a chance to go back? Someone like a friendly angel, perhaps?”
Kay couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“How could you possibly know that?” she asked.
“Because I’ve met him, too,” replied Kent.
Chapter Eight
December 2018
“Him?” asked Kay. “Don’t you mean her?”
“Of course,” said Kent. “He would be a she in your case. If it’s anything like what happened to me, he, or rather she, will appear as a younger version of you.”
“Yes,” said Kay, overjoyed to hear that she wasn’t the only one. “That’s exactly what happened. I have met her and she looks like I was when I was about nineteen. She’s offered me the chance to go back in time and relive some past days. I’ve been back once already.”
Over the next few minutes, Kay excitedly poured out everything that had happened so far. When she had finished, Kent confirmed that he, too, had met the angel, been given the same offer, and already completed his six trips back through time. He was just as excited as she was to find another time traveller and was now eager to share some of his experiences with her.
“I’m so glad to find out I’m not alone with all of this anymore,” he said. “I didn’t feel able to speak to anyone else about this, either when it was happening, or since. How could I have done? People would have thought I was going mad.”
“That’s what I thought, too. But it’s alright now,” said Kay. “We can talk to each other. You must tell me all about it. How long ago did it happen?”
“It was only about a month ago,” said Kent. “It started the day I lost my job. I was feeling pretty suicidal at the time and couldn’t see the point of carrying on. I was up on the roof of Sainsbury’s car park and thinking about jumping off. Then the angel just appeared out of nowhere. I didn’t even recognise myself at first. Funny, isn’t it? You don’t notice your body changing from day to day, but when you look at yourself twenty-five years ago it’s quite a shock to see how much age has taken its toll.”
“Tell me about it,” said Kay, understanding exactly what he meant after comparing the vision of loveliness that was her earlier self with her ragged current appearance. “So let’s hear some more about your trips. How did you decide what days to go back to? I’m still trying to figure out what to do with mine.”
Kent related a few tales from his trips back through time, making Kay chuckle with the story of how he had stuck the head of a large, plastic dinosaur up his evil boss’s arse.
“I would have loved to have seen that,” she said, thoughts of Alan and McVie suddenly springing to mind. “I can think of one or two people I wouldn’t mind doing something similar to myself.”
Her mind was opening up to all manner of possibilities. Discovering that she had a kindred spirit in Kent had been a welcome and unexpected development. The yearning she felt towards him was stronger than ever, but it was more than that now. There was a new and unique bond between them. H
e was her co-conspirator, and her partner in time. She intended to make the most of it.
Kay decided it was time she brought the subject back around to the day of the ball, since that was what she had originally come to talk to him about.
“So, in terms of which days to choose, I’m seriously considering going back to live the day of the ball over again. The reason I want to ask you about this is that it directly concerns you. I want to see if I can change things on the day so that it is you who takes me to the ball rather than Glen. How would you feel about that?”
Kent paused, clearly deep in thought about how he should respond.
“OK, I’ll be honest with you,” he said. “I’ve already been there. Just like you, I wondered how that day might have turned out differently, so it was one of the days I chose.”
“What happened?” asked Kay, eager to hear more.
“I’m not sure I should say,” he said. “I don’t think I ought to influence what you do when you go back there. You should follow your own path.”
“But you already know how it all turned out,” she said. “At least you can tell me if it’s worth my while going back there. If you don’t want to take me to the ball, or you didn’t want to back then, then I’d be wasting my time.”
“I did want to take you to the ball,” replied Kent. “That’s not exactly what I meant, though. You see, I know how it turned out for me when I went back. But remember, you’ll be going back to a completely new version of that day, not the one that I went back to.”
Kay nodded, remembering what the angel had said. “I see what you mean,” she said. “The angel creates a copy each time she sends us back. In effect, this will be a third version of the day, different both from the original and from the one you experienced on your trip.”
“That’s exactly right,” said Kent. “As soon as you get there, things will start to deviate from what happened on my visit because it will be you changing things this time, rather than me.”
“It’s very complicated, all of this,” replied Kay. “So, just to clarify, I will be starting the day with a clean sheet of paper. That means it doesn’t matter if you tell me what you did on your trip because it won’t be that version of you that I encounter.”