by Jason Ayres
“Nobby The Professor?” asked Lauren. “I wouldn’t take any notice of anything he’s got to say. He gave me a tip for the Grand National this year and it fell at the first fence.”
Nobby The Professor was well known among the pub and betting shop regulars. He was a smart, grey-haired man in his late-fifties with an immaculately trimmed beard. He was forever walking around with a copy of the Racing Post and a small tablet computer into which he was continually inputting data.
He claimed he’d created some software that was guaranteed to pick winners, and that he was a highly successful professional gambler. The regulars had their doubts about this. Other than the smart appearance, there was no obvious sign of wealth. The twenty-year-old Ford Mondeo he drove also hinted that he might be slightly exaggerating the truth.
“No, I’m telling you, this one’s a cert,” said Andy. “Last night, while you were doing the karaoke, Nobby showed me his spreadsheet with the magic formula on it. In fact, he told me to get round there and back it this morning before the odds change.”
Lauren looked up and saw that Kaylee had entered the pub. “Well, why don’t you go and do that now, and then maybe you can buy me a drink when it wins. Which it won’t,” she added.
Andy headed out of the door, and Kaylee came over to the bar.
“Hello stranger,” said Lauren. “Seems like ages since I’ve seen you.”
“Sorry about that,” replied Kaylee. “I think I’ve come over all maternal and started nesting.”
Kaylee took off her overcoat, revealing her growing bump.
“Wow, look at you!” exclaimed Lauren. “You weren’t showing the last time I saw you. You know, I always thought I’d be the first to get pregnant. Let’s face it, I’ve taken enough chances.”
Lauren felt Kaylee’s bump. “Is it making you feel broody?” asked the mother-to-be.
“I don’t think so. Perhaps I’m just not the maternal type. What brings you here today, anyway? I’m guessing you’re not after a pint.”
“A coffee would be nice,” replied Kaylee. “I came because I wanted to talk to talk to you about something serious.”
“What is it?” asked Lauren. “Is everything alright with the baby?”
“Yes, that’s all fine. It’s about the weather. Presumably you’ve been following the forecasts over the last week.”
“Yes,” replied Lauren. “All doom and gloom again. Heavy snow, so it seems. That’s what everyone who comes in here has been saying.”
“It’s going to be a lot worse than they are letting on,” said Kaylee. “I’ve run all sorts of simulations through the Met Office computer and they are all pointing to the same scenario – a severe winter the likes of which we haven’t seen in living memory, possibly the worst in a thousand years.”
“Yes – but, we’ll be OK, won’t we?” asked Lauren. “After all, they have winters like that in Siberia every year, don’t they? And they manage OK.”
“Yes, but they are geared up for it,” replied Kaylee. “They expect it. We don’t.”
“Well, I’m in the right place here,” said Lauren. “I don’t have to worry about driving to work. There’s a huge stack of firewood in the car park, freezers full of food and enough booze to last a lifetime. Bring it on, I say. It will be quite cosy. I just hope I get snowed in with a seriously sexy man.”
“Just be careful, that’s all,” replied Kaylee. “Charlie and I are heading off to the Canaries on holiday tomorrow. If things get really bad, I am going to suggest we don’t come back until after the baby’s born.”
Lauren thought about this and then asked: “But what about your jobs?”
“We’ll worry about that if and when it happens. If necessary, I’ll take my maternity leave early. And I’m sure Charlie can work something out.”
The door opened and Andy came back in. He was not in a good mood. “Bloody typical,” he said, interrupting the girls’ conversation.
“What’s happened? You haven’t lost on that horse already, have you?” asked Lauren. “Because don’t even think about trying to scrounge any drinks if you have.”
“Chance would have been a fine thing,” replied Andy. “I got into the betting shop and tried to look up the horse on the interactive terminal and couldn’t find it. So I asked the manager where the prices were for Ayr, and he pointed me to another screen which said “RACING AT AYR ABANDONED DUE TO HEAVY SNOW”. So that’s well and truly scuppered.”
“Well, look on the bright side,” replied Lauren. “At least you’ve still got your beer money for the weekend.” She began to pour him a pint.
“Whoever heard of snow in October?” asked Andy, as he dug in his pocket for a tenner.
“You see, it’s starting already,” said Kaylee, who had been listening with interest to the exchange. “Listen, I have to go, but please take care of yourself. Make sure you’ve got everything you need here in case you get snowed in. You could be here for weeks.”
“Thank-you, babe,” replied Lauren. “I will.”
The two old friends hugged, and Kaylee placed a chaste kiss on her lifelong friend’s cheek. Had they had any premonition of what lay ahead, they may have lingered longer in the hug.
But they had no way of knowing that this was the last time they would ever see each other.
Chapter Eleven
Josh had finished his lectures for the day and was sitting in his study waiting for Alice to join him. The room was the picture of academia. The walls were lined with old and dusty books, and the wooden floor and doors gave it a distinctly traditional feel.
A large blackboard on the wall was covered in complex mathematical calculations. Most people used touch screen wall panels these days, but Josh felt the old-fashioned blackboard was more in keeping with the décor of the room. The howling wind outside was making the window panes of the old building rattle as he flicked through his newspaper.
Coverage of the current weather outlook was extensive. But it was an article tucked away on page 17 of the paper that caught his eye.
“Miracle of sailor who returned from the dead”, stated the headline. Josh read on:
Friends and family were delighted last night to be reunited with sailor Robbie O’Neill, 32, of St Ives in Cornwall, who vanished after a storm off the Cornish coast over four months ago.
His one-person Sunfish sailboat was found washed up on rocks a few miles from the small village of Zennor back in June. Despite a major search by the local coastguard, his body was never found and he was presumed dead.
Now Mr O’Neill has amazed everyone by walking into the bar of his local pub, The Sloop in St Ives, looking somewhat the worse for wear but alive and well.
Where he has been all this time seems set to remain a mystery. When questioned as to his whereabouts, Mr O’Neill had the following to say:
“I got caught in a horrendous storm and could not get the boat safely to shore. I came to grief on some rocks on the coastline between St Ives and Zennor and managed to clamber ashore. I took shelter in some local caves where I must have passed out.
When I awoke, I made my way back to St Ives, only to find that somehow I had lost four months of my life. Where I was during that time, I am afraid to say I have no memory. I am assuming some kind soul must have looked after me, so whoever you are, all I can say is thank-you.”
Doctors who examined Mr O’Neill could find no sign of any physical trauma and concluded that the only explanation was that he must have suffered some form of stress-induced amnesia. Clearly he must have been living somewhere during these past four months but exactly where seems set to remain a mystery.
It is not the first such mystery of its type in these parts, according to one elderly resident we spoke to in Zennor, who did not wish to be identified. She claimed that shortly after returning from the Second World War, her father had vanished in similar circumstances for over two months.
This area of coastline has long been the subject of myths and legends, most notably the well-known loca
l tale of the Mermaid of Zennor involving the disappearance of local lad Matthew Trewella. Could it be that the mermaid has returned?
Josh was extremely interested in what he had just read. For years he had been searching for such a story and now here it was right in front of him.
The large, oak-panelled door opened and Alice came into the room. Josh jumped up excitedly, newspaper in hand. “Look at this!” he exclaimed.
“Whoa, steady on,” she said. “What is it?”
“Just read it,” he insisted.
She read through the article. He could barely wait for her to finish so he could say what he wanted to say. “You realise what this could mean, don’t you?”
“I think I do,” she replied. She knew all about The Time Bubble. Josh had told her all about his and Charlie’s teenage adventures not long after they had started dating. She was sceptical at first but after they’d had dinner with Kaylee and Charlie who’d told their side of the story, she’d accepted that however far-fetched it seemed, it might well be true.
“It could be a new Time Bubble,” he said. “I think we need to get down there and check it out. Fancy a dirty weekend in Cornwall?”
“You’re on,” she replied.
=============================
Dan and Ryan were spending the afternoon round at Ryan’s house. Ryan still lived at home with his parents, but they had gone away for the weekend so Ryan had asked Dan to come round and keep him company.
Dan had finished work at 2pm and had nothing better to do, so they were up in Ryan’s bedroom playing on the PS6. Despite Ryan being 28 years old, his room could easily have been mistaken for a teenager’s.
There were clothes strewn everywhere, posters on the walls from various action movies, and piles of magazines everywhere. These were a mixture of traditional top-shelf filth, ever popular despite the proliferation of online pornography, and a collection of gun enthusiast magazines.
Right now, Dan and Ryan were playing a particularly bloodthirsty game which consisted primarily of killing as many people as violently as possible with an array of extremely heavy artillery.
Ryan laughed as he machine-gunned a group of people standing at a bus stop, watching as the blood and gore splattered all around him. The latest console’s 3D holographic effects were the most advanced yet. Ryan really felt like he was there, killing the people in real life and it felt good.
Dan was equally hooked, taking out his frustrations with real life on the game. “Die, bitch whore!” he shouted as he pumped several rounds of bullets into the head of a prostitute loitering outside a railway station. “She looked a bit like that bitch Lauren,” he added.
There had been countless campaigns to get such games banned over the years, but the manufacturers argued that as long as they came with an 18 certificate, there was not a problem. There was no evidence, they said, that playing such games inspired copycat behaviour in real life.
“Get the pregnant woman in the stomach!” exclaimed Dan. “I’ll go for the pushchair.”
Many people considered such games sick and that only those with a sick mind would play them. Looking at the way Ryan and Dan were enjoying slaughtering the town’s residents, they might well have had a point.
They got to the end of the level. Ryan paused the game and turned to Dan. “So, you enjoyed that then?” he asked, seeking approval as ever.
“It was awesome, mate. Quality entertainment!” replied Dan.
“Well, in that case, I’ve got something else you might be interested in. I’ve been meaning to show you these for a while but I wanted to wait until my parents were away.”
Ryan walked over to the built-in wardrobe doors and opened them up. He took out a large, padlocked wooden box, produced a key from his pocket, and began to open it up. “Take a look at this,” he said.
Dan looked inside, and even he was a little shocked by what he saw. The box was full of guns, at least half a dozen different types, along with several boxes of ammunition.
“Oh my God, Ryan, where did you get this lot?”
“I built them myself,” replied Ryan, proudly. “It’s easy enough with the latest 3D printers. Then I painted them all to the exact specifications of the original designs. You can hardly tell the difference.”
“Isn’t this illegal?” asked Dan. Not that things being illegal had ever stopped Dan doing anything.
“Oh, totally,” replied Ryan. “But as long as nobody knows they are here, where’s the problem?”
“Do they actually work?” asked Dan.
“Absolutely,” said Ryan. “I’ve tested most of them. I had to take them out into the countryside, though, they are pretty noisy. You can try one if you like.”
“Now?” asked Dan.
“Why not?” replied Ryan. He took two of the guns from the box and a couple of boxes of ammunition. “We’ll drive over to that abandoned Army base just outside town. It’s deserted and no one will hear us there.”
Dan felt strangely excited. He’d never held a real gun before, let alone fired one. Ryan passed one of the guns across to him and he held it. It felt good.
=============================
After leaving the pub, Kaylee had gone back home to find Charlie waiting for her. They had planned to leave mid-afternoon, but Kaylee needed to see Hannah before she went.
As she walked through the streets under grey-leaden skies, she drew her thick, woollen coat ever more tightly around herself.
The temperature had been falling throughout the day and it was barely above freezing now. She could see her breath in front of her and quickened her pace, wanting to get back in the warm as soon as possible.
When she got to Hannah’s house, Hannah was helping Jess with her homework at the kitchen table. She let Kaylee in and put the kettle on.
“I could do with a brew,” remarked Kaylee. “It’s freezing out there!”
“Is it going to snow, Kaylee?” asked Jess. “Miss Phillips at school says it might. I want to build a snowman.”
Despite being nine years old, Jess had never experienced the childhood joy of building a snowman. The warm weather of the past decade had more or less rendered snow a thing of the past in Southern England.
“It certainly looks that way, Jess,” replied Kaylee. “And I don’t want to put a dampener on your plans, but it’s that which I’ve come to talk about,” she said.
“Go on,” said Hannah. “It’s quite nice having our own personal weather expert as a best friend.” Her light-hearted tone became more serious as she noticed the look on Kaylee’s face. “What’s up?”
“Hannah, I’m really concerned about what’s happening to the climate. Have you seen the news today?”
“I haven’t had time,” replied Hannah. “I only got in from work an hour ago and then I had to pick up Jess.”
“You’ve heard about the cold weather coming down from the North Pole, though?”
“I could hardly miss it – it’s been all over the news for days, not to mention being the main topic of conversation at work today. We’ve got everyone on alert ready to deal with any traffic problems. But it’s just a cold snap, isn’t it? There’s nothing really to be afraid of. I thought most of the dust from the asteroid strike had cleared now. It’s certainly been a lot sunnier the last couple of weeks.”
“The damage has been done already,” said Kaylee. “The Arctic sea ice didn’t melt this summer, and there’s still a freeing mass of air sitting over the pole. That air is currently sinking rapidly south, and as the winter approaches it can only get worse. Put the TV on and you’ll see.”
Hannah and Kaylee left Jess in the kitchen and went through to the lounge. Hannah switched the TV over to the news channel. The image on the screen was of cars abandoned on a snowbound road. They listened intently to what the announcer was saying:
“At least twelve inches of snow have fallen across the Scottish Highlands and most roads in the area are impassable. Routes in and out of Inverness are completely blocked by sn
ow, whilst further south, a severe accident has closed the M8 westbound between Edinburgh and Glasgow after at least six inches of snow fell in less than twelve hours.
Police are unable to say when it will reopen. They are also advising the public in Scotland not to travel unless absolutely necessary.
In the meantime, severe weather warnings have been issued for the whole of the UK for snow. The Met Office has upgraded these from Amber to Red status, the highest level of alert following the latest forecast.”
“How long have you known about this?” asked Hannah.
“At least a week,” replied Kaylee. “But we didn’t think it was going to be this bad at first. Every time we’ve updated the forecast since then, it’s looked worse.”
“I bet you’ll be glad to be getting away from it, won’t you?” asked Hannah. “I wish I was going on holiday.”
“The thing is,” said Kaylee, “if it’s as bad as our worst-case scenario, we might stay in Fuerteventura. We might not have any choice.”
“And what about us?” asked Hannah. “Are we in any danger?”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I really think you should think about leaving and getting to somewhere warmer. Maybe get out of England altogether for the winter.”
“I can’t possibly do that, for all sorts of reasons,” replied Hannah. “For a start, there’s my job. If things are going to get tough here, then I’m going to have my work cut out. Then there’s Jess of course, I can’t justify taking her out of school and spiriting her away halfway across the world.”
“If things get bad, there may not be any school,” said Kaylee. “You know how quick they are to close the place when there are even a couple of flakes of snow.”
“And there’s something else, too, another reason why I couldn’t leave even if I wanted to.” She paused and then said just one word: “Peter”.
They both knew that Peter was due to return for good from The Time Bubble on 11th January. There was no way Hannah was not going to be around to greet him on that day after she had waited for so long.