Where am I? Can’t be. Dave Summers has awakened to find himself back in his old house in Oaklee Road, Workham, City of Lionby. He keeps pinching himself. Surely this must be a dream, yet everything looks so real. Dave sits on his bed, in his bedroom at the rear of the old terrace house. A terrace that was demolished in 1963! Dave’s last recollection before today was falling asleep in his house in Grimlea, in the year 2015. He had had a steady day at the office: Grimlea Job Centre, where he had worked for about thirty years. The evening had been quite routine too. But without warning, everything had come to this.
Impulsively Dave dashes downstairs into the lounge. He ignores the rumbling of his father’s snoring, which comes from the bedroom at the other side of the staircase. Dave knows, or rather remembers better than to disturb anyone at this early hour. Soon he stares into the sitting room mirror: at his ten year old self! After several minutes prodding his face he takes in the scene. The Sunday ‘papers are scattered before the doorway. Frantically he ceases them and hones in on one detail: they confirm it is 1962!
About thirty minutes later Dave returns to his bedroom after exploring the street outside. Everything is more or less as he remembers it. Admittedly the houses are much smaller than he recalls, but going back to visit old places is often strange like this. With an air of determination Dave finds himself a notebook and pen. His instincts now tell him that he must keep his grip on 2015!
Dave writes: “This is a true story. Last night when I went to sleep it was the year 2015 and I was a Personal Adviser at Grimlea Job Centre. Now I’m a ten year old schoolboy living in Lionby and it is 1962. Brazil have yet to win the World Cup this year. Next year J.F. Kennedy will be assassinated. Maybe I will wake up tomorrow back in Grimlea 2015. Yet I might not, and I may lose all my “memories”. England winning the World Cup in 1966. The Aberfan tragedy the same year. Man landing on the Moon in 1969. The Beatles, The Beach Boys, The Rolling Stones. Queen, Genesis, Girls Aloud. 9\11, The Gulf Wars, The Falklands War. The tragic tale of Princess Di. Digital Television. Mobile Phones. The Internet. Sinking ships and air crashes. The pulling down of The Berlin Wall and the breakup of The Soviet Union. The North African Revolutions. My friends and colleagues. For what if I take a different path this time? Meet different people in different places. Could I change history? Only time will tell. Amen.”
Feeling a little more composed now, Dave ventures outside again. One or two people are strolling about. He sits on a small wall not far from his house. Presently a young man, dressed in jeans and tee-shirt, walks up to him.
“Dave Summers you may not change history!” he announces firmly.
“How do you know my name?” squeals Dave.
“May I sit with you?” asks the man, with a smile, “I’d rather not stand over you like this.”
Dave nods, frowning.
“Please sit back and relax,” says the man, “I’ve come here to explain what is going on for you.”
Dave: “Who are you?”
Man: “I have no name as you know it. Nor am I from anywhere you would recognise. Fact is, as you may have surmised, you have indeed been given a second chance. The meaning of that should be clear enough to you. But any time your actions or words begin to threaten the main historical time line you will find yourself re-awakening on the previous day! So, sorry Dave, you cannot tell anyone about any of this. You cannot hint about 9\11, Kennedy or even your own family births, deaths or marriages. Nothing must prevent the birth of your nieces and nephews. Your pathway, however, may be very broad indeed. Any changes you make to your life may, within due reason, be accommodated. Before you ask, that is all you need to know about this arrangement. It’s very simple, any wrong word or action and you go back a day. You might even do this deliberately to get out of a scrape, but you will always go back. You are not allowed the right of question. I sincerely wish you the best of luck. Goodbye.”
With that, the young man jumps to his feet and heads down the street. At this point some girl accidentally bumps into Dave. She apologises and Dave accepts. When Dave turns to look back down the street, that lad has vanished into thin air. It is a fait accompli. Dave has no option but to live with the situation.
So Dave simply lays on his bed and meditates on what path he might take this time. Well, for a start he will not start his career with ten years in teaching! Should he still go and work at The Job Centre at some point? Maybe. Anything better? Perhaps. Something to consider. New women? Why of course, given a fair chance. At least now he has the massive advantage of fifty years of experience and knowledge of the future.
Paul Butters
To be Continued, in Part Two!
(Picture above is of Ashley Road, Upper Wortley, Leeds - the "School Street" where I lived until about 1963)
