Ahead of his Time Adrian Cousins (most recommended books TXT) 📖

“Well, you’re acting like one!”

Martin huffed and looked back down at the paper, grabbing it and flicking to the back page which had a picture of Brian Clough with the headlines, ‘Forest thrash Rovers – Clough says you don’t want roast beef every night!’

Iglanced at the text that reported Brian Clough thought it was wrong to have so much football on television, like having a Sunday roast every day. Not sure what he would make of the football media coverage in 2019.I stubbed my cigarette out on the plate, not the best idea, but I knew there wasn’t an ashtray in the house. Martin stared at the paper, although clearly not reading it.

“Martin, have you been anywhere else? I need to know.”

Martin refolded the paper and tossed it across the table, then looked up at me. “Went for a drive, didn’t I … just a … just a look around.” He shrugged his shoulders, frowned and looked out the kitchen window.

“Just a drive?”

“Yep,” emphasising the ‘p.’

“Nowhere in particular then?”

“Nope,” again, emphasising the ‘p.’

“Did you stop anywhere or talk to anyone on your drive?”

“Nope.”

This conversation was how I imagined a conversation would go with a stroppy teenager. As with any teenager being interrogated, his one-word answers were clearly covering the truth.

“Martin, I know we aren’t exactly bestie buddies, but the only way forward is complete honesty between us.”

Martin looked at me, huffed again and shrugged his shoulders. “Alright, I went up to the school and sat and watched as the kids came out. I wanted to see if I could spot Mum.”

“Oh hell. Did you see her?”

“No, well, I don’t think so. I don’t really know what she looked like at sixteen. I've seen old photos, but that didn’t help much.”

“Martin, you know you can’t talk to her, don’t you?”

“Of course! I’m not going to say hello, Mum, am I!”

“You can’t talk to her at all. You have to keep away from her … there can be no altering with her timeline.”

“I may have to—”

“No! You don’t,” I quickly interrupted him.

Martin scraped his chair back, sighed as he stood up and walked to the window. “Jason, what the hell am I going to do here in this world? I want to go back. My life was in 2019 … I can’t believe I’m actually saying it. It’s ridiculous. Time-travel, I mean, it’s madness.”

“I know you do. And no offence, I’d prefer it if you were back in 2019. But for the moment, you’re stuck here, and we’re going to have to get on with it.”

“Do you think that Cortina is a time machine? Perhaps there’s a way I can go back in that car?”

“Ha, as you pointed out, it hasn’t got a Flux-Capacitor! I’ve no idea why we both ended up in that car. Look, anyway, to get you doing something, I’ve secured you a job as a stand-in caretaker at the school. Clive, our caretaker, has had to go in for an operation and will be laid up for six months, so you can drop into that position for now.”

“A caretaker! Jesus Christ, is that what my life will be? Emptying bins and sweeping the bloody sports hall!”

“No, much more technical than that. You’ll be changing light bulbs, and you may even get to wield a screwdriver if you're lucky.” I grinned at him as he swivelled around and leant back against the sink.

“Oh, yeah, very funny.”

“Well, for the moment it’ll give you something to do until we can work out if we can get you back. We need to get you a national insurance number. George has talked me through the process, and it’s a lot easier than in our day. We can use this address as your permanent residence. If we struggle, you’ll just have to sit on emergency tax. But you’ll get paid in cash, so no need to worry about a bank account at the moment.”

Martin raised his eyebrows, shook his head and re-joined me at the table.

“You’re going to have to get your head around this era, and quickly. I suggest. You’ll get forty-five quid a week, and it’s a forty-two-hour working week, not the thirty-five hours you’re used to, plus income tax is at thirty-five per-cent.”

“Bloody hell, it’s like the fricking dark ages. Do they send kids up chimneys as well?” Martin raised his hands and crossed his eyes, giving him the look of Nookie Bear, who was a guest on The Morecambe and Wise Show over Christmas. Jenny found it hilarious, but some comedy just gets stuck in an era. However, I did love the ‘Breakfast Scene’ to the ‘Stripper’ music. I really enjoyed some of the old TV programmes, occasionally cocking up, with comments like ‘Oh, Jen, you got to see this, I remember it’s hilarious.’

“Martin, please be sensible. My concern with you working at the school is your mum. You can’t talk to her. I need you to promise that you’ll just keep your head down and avoid all contact.”

He looked down to his lap and pursed his lips, I guess contemplating his new job role. When I’d travelled back, apart from Beth, I’d left nothing behind. Martin had left his mother, a plethora of friends, his wife, and probably a gaggle of extramarital relationships – now he had nothing. In his shoes, I would be in the same situation – everything lost.

“Jason, can I have one of your cigarettes?”

“You don’t smoke.”

“Do occasionally, usually when out on the piss. But I think I need one.” I shoved the packet and zippo lighter across to him. He lit up and coughed.

“Jason, I think I know why I’m here.” He held my stare, coughed again but persevered with his cigarette. Although I’d just stubbed one out, I leant across the table, plucked up the packet and joined him.

“Go on,” I said, my cigarette bouncing up and down in my mouth.

“I’m thinking I’m here to prevent my birth in 1988—”

“Why would you be here to do that?” I replied, confused that he thought his