Splinters In Time (The Time Bubble Book 4)

by Jason Ayres

  Once again, he had found young Josh working for his father in the family business. Rather than approach him, he took a trip to check up on the time bubble, a journey that proved fruitless.

  The tunnel which housed it, built for pedestrian access beneath the newly constructed HS2 railway line, was non-existent in this universe, as was the line. Further investigation revealed that the line had been diverted several miles north of the town instead after a successful campaign by the local residents.

  It wasn’t much of a change on the Gardner scale, not in comparison with Harold winning the Battle of Hastings or nuclear obliteration, but it was enough to screw up any hope he had of getting help from Josh here.

  It was time to start looking at some other options. He couldn’t keep wasting his jumps like this. He still had plenty of money left – perhaps it was time to stay put for a while and try and come up with a Plan B. He mulled over the various possibilities now, as he ordered another pint from none other than Kent, the policeman turned landlord.

  He wasn’t sure why, but he wished Lauren were here. He wasn’t sure what she was doing in this world, perhaps she was married to Josh as she had been in the last similar world. Perhaps Kent would know – she had worked here on and off during the 2020s, after all.

  “Excuse me,” he said to landlord. “Do you have a girl called Lauren working here?”

  “We did have, for a while, but she’s got a flat in Oxford now,” replied Kent, being unusually helpful for once. “She went off to become a beautician. A pity really, she was good for this place.”

  “You only say that because you wanted to shag her,” said a man sitting on a bar stool a couple of metres further along, turning towards them as he spoke. As he caught his eye, Josh recognised him as Andy, the rockstar that never was. By the look of him, fame had passed him by in this universe.

  “What was that?” said Kent’s wife, Debbie, emerging from the door behind the bar that linked to the restaurant on the other side.

  “Take no notice of him, my sweet,” said Kent, quickly looking to dispel any suggestion that he might have been lusting over Lauren. He had hopes of persuading the girl to come back and work there at some point, but not for romantic reasons. She worked hard and pulled in the punters. He certainly didn’t want Andy ruining that possibility for him.

  As Debs started to harangue both of them, Josh decided to find a quieter corner of the pub to think things over. He had spent many an evening in this pub in his younger years listening to this lot bantering on about nothing in particular. He simply wasn’t in the mood for it today.

  A quiet spot was hard to come by as the pub was very busy. It was the final Friday before Christmas, which was always a lively time. Eventually, grabbing a stool at a small, round table close to the fire, he sipped his lager and considered his options.

  He would stay here over Christmas and try to look up a few friends. He needed a break from all the time-travelling and a few days here would not cause him any harm. Then there were a few other things he could try. Firstly, he would go and find Thomas Scott to see if he was still living backwards in this universe. He would also try and track down Amy, the nurse, to see if anything unusual had happened to her.

  Once he was done with that, he would travel to Cornwall, to the cave near Zennor, to see if the second time bubble was there. If it was, he would try and use it to move forward in time.

  It was highly unlikely he would be successful as the chances were high that there would already be someone inside it. But if there was any chance at all, he had to give it a try. With all the disappointments so far, he had to explore every possible avenue available.

  He spent the night in the hotel on the square where Annie/Lauren had touted her wares to him not so long ago. While he was there, he contemplated seeing if he could find her in Oxford. She had lived in a flat in Walton Street around this time, but would there be any point. With no tunnel and no time bubble she wouldn’t have any knowledge of time travel rendering any conversations on the topic redundant. The same would apply to Charlie and the others.

  By the morning, he had decided against seeking them out. Much as he would have loved an invitation to Christmas dinner, it was unlikely his claims to be who he was would be believed under the circumstances.

  “Hi, I’m Josh,” he would say at the front door, “your friend, but from thirty years in the future – any chance of a mince pie?”

  No, that was definitely not going to work. He was done here and it was time to head back to Oxford to seek out Thomas and Amy.

  He decided to visit Thomas first as he ought to be easy to find. He knew that he had lived in a house in Botley. He had visited it before when he had taken Thomas time-travelling to his own future. Hopefully he would find him there, being a weekend. If Thomas was living his life backwards in time like he had been in Josh’s universe, then he was sure he would be only too delighted to welcome another time traveller.

  Josh was greeted at the front door by Thomas’s daughter, Stacey, whom he recognised from the hospital. She was the woman who had been crying outside Thomas’s room the night time had been splintered. Explaining he was a friend of her dad’s, she let him in and ushered him through the hall towards the kitchen.

  “Friend of yours to see you, Dad,” she said. Josh caught sight of Thomas sitting at the kitchen table, reading the paper, drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette. That accounted for why the whole house reeked of stale cigarette smoke. Josh had noticed it the second he walked in the front door.

  Thomas looked up at Josh, with no hint of recognition in his eyes.

  “Hi, Thomas,” began Josh. “How are you?”

  Before Thomas could speak, Stacey interjected. “Well, I’ve got presents to wrap, so I’ll leave you two to it.” Thomas waited for her to leave before he spoke.

  “Who are you?” he asked. “I’ve never clapped eyes on you before in my life.”

  “Ah, of course, you won’t have met me yet, will you, not with you living your life backwards. You won’t meet me until December 2021 at Cheltenham Races.”

  “What are you talking about, 2021? That was two years ago. Are you mad? And what do you mean, living my life backwards?”

  Josh began to get an all too familiar feeling that things were going wrong yet again. Why couldn’t anyone or anything be what they should be in these bloody alternate universes?

  “You mean you’re living a normal life?” asked Josh. “What day will tomorrow be? Sunday or Friday?”

  “Sunday, obviously,” replied Thomas belligerently. “Now you are clearly some sort of nutter, and I want you out of here, right now, or I’m calling the police.”

  As he finished speaking, he descended into a protracted, hacking coughing fit, but still drew on his cigarette once it had stopped.

  “You know, you really ought to give that up,” said Josh. “It’ll kill you, you know.”

  “Who the hell do you think you are coming into my house telling me what I can and can’t do? For your information, I enjoy a good smoke. It’s one of the few pleasures I’ve had in life since my wife died.”

  “Yeah, but seriously – it really will kill you – in about a year from now,” replied Josh. “I know – I’m from the future and I’ve seen you on your deathbed. If you want my advice, you’ll stop right away and get yourself checked out immediately. You might just about catch it in time.”

  “You’re insane,” replied Thomas, calling out, “Stacey! David!” The urgency in his voice brought Stacey and her boyfriend rushing into the room.

  “You need to be more careful who you let in, Stacey. This bloke is no friend of mine, he’s clearly escaped from the local loony bin and he’s ready to leave, right now. David, do you want to give me a hand escorting him to the door?” asked Thomas, stubbing out his cigarette and getting to his feet.

  “It’s alright, I’m going,” said Josh. “It’s obvious I’m getting nowhere here. Remember what I said, though. Quit the fags or you’ll be dead in a year.” />
  He just about made it out before they threw him out, Thomas hurling a torrent of abuse at him all the way. His house call had been a complete waste of time. This Thomas wasn’t travelling back in time, so that was another unexplained mystery he was never going to solve. Perhaps each day had two Thomases – one going forwards and one going backwards.

  Whichever it was, it was no help to Josh. It wasn’t worth wasting any more time on, that was for sure. He had tried to do a good deed and warn Thomas of his impending death in this universe. Judging by the response, he highly doubted he would follow his advice and instead continue to smoke himself to death.

  That still left Amy, but after this experience he wasn’t holding out much hope. He did manage to track her down at the hospital and start a conversation with her on a pretext of visiting a patient, but it was quickly clear there was nothing unusual about her either.

  Was there another Amy, out there somewhere, living her life backwards, the way Thomas had? If there was, it seemed unlikely he would never find out.

  So, he had drawn two more blanks. This was becoming ever more frustrating. No matter what he did, who he saw, or where he went, he seemed destined not to find a way home.

  The only thing left to try was the time bubble in Cornwall. Heading back to the hotel, he pulled out his tablet and started looking for somewhere to stay in St Ives for the following night.

  Normally getting a room during the winter shouldn’t have caused too much difficulty, but he had arrived at a bad time. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve and nearly everywhere he tried was either booked up or closed. The few that did have places demanded payment by card, something he didn’t have.

  At last he found a cheap bed and breakfast who said he could stay in a single room if he paid cash on arrival, but there would be no breakfast on Christmas Day. That didn’t bother him; he just wanted a bed for the night and could take his own food. The B&B would suit his needs very well and at £40 a night wouldn’t eat too heavily into his funds. He committed to two nights and then got on with preparations for the journey.

  Checking his funds, he counted that he still had nearly £1,500 of his original £2,000. He had been exceptionally frugal up until now, but perhaps he could afford to spend a little more now on this trip. The currency he was carrying was not going to be of use to him much longer. Notes changed on a regular basis and soon he would arrive in a time when these wouldn’t yet be legal tender. What was he going to do for money then?

  He had at best two more trips with useable currency so it was time to start making use of it. To begin with, all of the clothes he had originally brought with him were now dirty and he didn’t have the time or the inclination to search out laundry facilities, so he went out to Primark and kitted himself out with three fresh sets of clothes. Once he was finished there, he went to stock up with provisions for the journey and for the following day. He didn’t want to get caught out with no food on Christmas Day, the one day of the year when no shops would be open.

  After a good night’s sleep he was all set for a bright and early start the following morning.

  By mid-morning, after another hearty breakfast at his usual café, he was on a train pulling out of Oxford station heading towards Reading, where he would change for Cornwall.

  The journey brought back memories of the time he had first gone down to the South-West on this same line in search of this same time bubble. That trip had taken place in heavy snow during the start of the Black Winter and the train hadn’t made it to the end, but he and Alice had got out and continued on foot. Eventually they had confirmed the existence of the second time bubble in the cave near Zennor.

  Thankfully today, like most Christmas Eves, was snow-free and he was able to enjoy the scenery on a pleasant, sunny winter’s day. At just after 3pm, his train pulled into the beautiful town of St Ives.

  He had been back here a few times over the years, and the views of the ocean never failed to take his breath away. It was stunningly bright, even in December, as the sun shimmered across the bay. He had heard it said that artists flocked here because the light was better than anywhere else in the UK. It certainly seemed that way today.

  Making his way down from the station into the picture postcard town, he wandered through a narrow, cobbled street. It was full of whitewashed fisherman’s cottages, now converted into holiday homes, cosmopolitan restaurants and art galleries.

  The streets were bustling with people as if it were midsummer; clearly this was a popular destination for Christmas, too. No wonder he had struggled so much to find a room.

  Locating his tiny B&B in a narrow street just behind the town centre, he got himself unpacked, cleaned up and ready to enjoy the evening. He knew that there was no point attempting to get to the cave today, it would be dark soon. He may as well relax and enjoy the evening.

  He dined at a gorgeous little restaurant at the top of some stone steps in front of the harbour, enjoying some locally caught fish. He then headed to his old favourite, The Sloop, for a few pints and some chat with the locals and the tourists, all of whom were full of Christmas spirit.

  The following morning, the serious work began. As he had anticipated, breakfast was hard to come by on Christmas Day, so he improvised with a cereal bar and a banana that he had brought with him, some free biscuits from the tray in the room, and a couple of cups of mediocre instant coffee. Just after 9am, he was out of the door and ready for action.

  A few well-wishers greeted him with “Merry Christmas” as he made his way towards Porthmeor Beach. He returned their wishes, although it felt rather hollow. He wasn’t feeling particularly Christmassy after all he had been through. Besides, it wasn’t even Christmas in his personal timeline. If he added all the time he had spent on this journey to the date he had left, it would be sometime in August.

  It was about a three-mile walk along the coastline to the cave, which was quite difficult to get down to, located as it was in a small cove near Zennor. He needed to get there as early in the day as possible as high tide was due just after 2pm. By this time the entrance to the cave would be inaccessible, cut off by the sea, and then he would have to wait until after dark for the waters to recede.

  What was he hoping to find when he got there? His best-case scenario was that the time bubble was there, and he could use it to jump forward to his own time. Hopefully then he could access the technology and materials he needed in order to repair the tachyometer, or even build a new one. Quite where he was going to do this without the resources of the university at his disposal, he hadn’t figured out yet.

  It was a plan fraught with pitfalls, like pretty much everything he had done lately. Even if the bubble was operational, it could end up sending him thousands of years into the future. He didn’t know the history of the bubble in this world, if it even existed, so he would be effectively jumping blindfold into the unknown. But then again, most of his jumps recently had been a bit like that.

  It was far more likely nothing would happen at all, because there was either someone in it already or it just didn’t exist in this world.

  The journey to the cave was a lot easier than the first time he and Alice had negotiated the snowbound coastal path on their first visit. In just over an hour he was rounding the small headland, opening up the view of the cove below.

  Remembering how Alice had fallen and hurt herself here, he was mindful of watching his footing at this point as he picked his way carefully down to the beach. The tide was still out, leaving him no difficulty accessing the cave. As he reached the beach, he could see it clearly, about a hundred yards in front of him on the far side of the beach.

  He hadn’t seen anyone since he had left St Ives, and hadn’t expected to. Most people at this time would be busy unwrapping presents and boiling sprouts. So what happened next was a complete surprise. He was no more than ten yards from the edge of the cave when a strange figure emerged from within.

  He was a teenage boy, no older than fifteen or sixteen. What instantly caught Josh’s ey
e was the unusual state of the boy’s attire.

  Unless he was taking part in some sort of pageant or being filmed for a historical TV drama, the lad could have stepped straight out of some past century. He was dressed in what would probably have been called Sunday best at the time – a white, frilly shirt with a notable ruff, a doublet over the top and a pair of brown, woollen breeches. His dress was even more historic than that of the people Josh had encountered in the Victorian-style world a few days ago.

  The boy looked fearful and was shivering in the cold breeze coming off the ocean, as the sea crashed into the rocks a few yards away, sending a fine spray of cold moisture over both of them. Josh noted that he wasn’t wearing any sort of coat.

  “Who are you?” asked the boy nervously. “Why do you wear such strange clothes?”

  Perhaps this lad really had come from hundreds of years in the past. If he had, Josh’s clothing must look just as strange to him as his did to Josh.

  “Don’t be alarmed,” said Josh. “I’m a friend. My name’s Josh. What’s yours?”

  “My name’s Matthew. Matthew Trewella.”

  Matthew Trewella – the name rang a bell. Josh had heard it before somewhere.

  “What have you done with Morveren?” asked Matthew? “Are you a demon? Did you spirit her away?”

  His superstitious and fearful words left Josh in no doubt that this boy had come from long ago.

  “Relax, Matthew. I’m not a demon. Who’s Morveren?”

  “She is my love,” replied Matthew. “I came here with her after church. We wanted to be alone together so we went in the cave. Then she vanished. Why is it so cold?”

  It was obvious what they had come here for, thought Josh. It seemed teenagers were the same whichever century they came from. Josh decided to try and establish when exactly he had come from.

  “What time of year is it, Matthew?” asked Josh.

  “You don’t even know that?” asked Matthew. “It’s harvest time: we had our festival at the church this morning.”