A Survivor's Guide to Eternity (33 page)
Chapter 21
17.49, 17.52, 17.56, 17.59
The following morning, things were a carbon copy of the previous day: the strained lead tugging at his neck, then the walk in the park followed by the meat lumps and Mia’s departure for work. Ed was then left alone. It was
nd
2009
Cautiously, he nudged it with his black button nose, knocking it over and causing two of the knives to shoot out and onto the floor. The other one remained half in and half out of the wooden retainer. He looked at the knife on the surface and the two on the floor knowing that whatever he’d attempt with them would be dangerous. He remembered what the Viking had told him about the time continuum getting messed up if he went around again. This might be his only shot at being there for the fateful day. He looked around the kitchen for other articles that could help, but all to no avail. Distraught, he sat thoughtfully back on his haunches, staring down at his basket, blanket and bowl of water.
He sat on the work surface for over an hour, stuck for an idea. The collar was far too securely fastened for his paws to be effective in opening it, and so he soon came to the conclusion that one way or another, he had to cut it off. Again he looked round at the knife on the work surface and then – bingo! It all clicked into place. Excitedly, he went over to the wooden block and nudged it out of the way, forcing the knife to come loose and lie in the open. It was a bread knife with a ten inch serrated blade and a five inch handle. He batted it with his paws into the tiled corner. Patiently he manoeuvred its length so it was face down and upright on the surface with the handle directed into the corner at forty five degrees. He stooped down over the knife with his chin resting on the unsharpened back edge which was erect towards the ceiling. He put his paws either side of the blade and manoeuvred his neck so the tip of the knife was slipping between his neck and the collar. He was soon juggling with the elements to get them perfectly aligned but time after time the knife slipped loose and fell over.
He persisted again and again until finally he got it wedged in the gap, the blunt edge rubbing on his neck and the sharp serrated edge digging into the leather like a saw. He manoeuvred back and forth, keeping the knife lodged into the corner with the pressure and weight of his pushes. He was well aware that one wrong push at the wrong angle and the knife would slip right into his body and most likely kill him. Undeterred, he continued, determinedly cutting through the collar until finally, after what seemed like an eternity, it cut right through. Quickly, he stepped back from the knife and dug with his paws at the severed collar, prying it from his neck and down onto the work surface. His throat ached agonisingly from the friction of the blunt side of the blade.
Excitedly, he jumped down, thirstily drank his way through his bowl of water and leapt across the room and up onto the window ledge via the sofa. He levered up the window casement bar with ease from its receptacle and turned his attention to the brass side handle, just within his reach. Soon he had loosened the latch and the window swung open, assisted by a gentle nudge with his head. He crept out onto the wide ledge outside and pulled the window shut with his furry front paws, giving it a firm push with his bum to make sure it stayed closed. It was a fairly tight fit so it was quite secure once shut. He didn’t want Mia to be burgled because he’d left the window open.
He jumped down into the garden and over to the gate, peering around the corner before diving out and speeding along the lanes towards the Fox pub. He rushed along ‘Yew Tree Close’, and then onto ‘
Cuckoo Lane
’, not a soul in sight. A little further on and he was in the village centre with its post office, police station and corner shop all collected around a small central war memorial and flower bed.
Stealthily, he ducked and dived behind bushes, between parked cars and onto the main road which led to the Fox pub and M3. He sped down into a small ditch which ran parallel to the road, and continued at full pace, reaching the Fox pub some fifteen minutes later. Outside, two elderly, plump men came out dressed in tatty farmer’s attire, getting into a rusting Ford transit van before speeding off. Ed continued on his way, unconcerned whether they saw him or not. He was feeling nimble and fast enough to get away from anyone and anything.
The grass-covered ditch carried on for another half mile or so before
He snuck across the car park, up a small grass embankment and took refuge behind a small concrete post. He wasn’t sure what the exact time was but by the look of the sun’s position in the sky, it was nearing late afternoon. Nervously, he peered around from the hiding place hoping to see Ed’s silver Volvo estate appear on the slip road. Each new vehicle noise marked another chord of disappointment in the dog as they passed by the diner and drove out onto the dual carriageway. He waited anxiously, his ears shooting bolt upright every time anything moved or made the slightest noise. He could see the lights in the diner and the steam coming from the kitchen vent. The bright yellow waitress fizzled past the window every now and then, carrying oversized cups of tea and bacon rolls to lonely customers.
Ed looked on nervously until the sound of an engine drew closer and closer. It was a silver Volvo estate, just like Ed’s. It stopped along from the diner on the slip road just past the petrol station. The engine revved as the driver looked at the big sign:
‘
Next, the silver car reversed backwards, causing a minivan coming past to swerve, resulting in a meaningless exchange of horn abuse. Then the car steered over to the left and into the diner car park, pulling up just along from where the small furry dog was hiding. Excitedly, he leapt out from his position under the adjacent van and over towards the door of the diner where he peered out from behind another of the big breakfast signs. He watched in complete disbelief as he saw the car door fling open, revealing Ed’s feet, then legs, body and head. He was shocked to be staring at himself. Of everything that had happened so far, this was by far the most extraordinary to come to terms with. Two Ed Trews.
He pulled a jacket from the car, put his iPhone into his shirt pocket, slammed the door shut and headed over to the restaurant. Ed could smell him even from that distance, the familiar aftershave, the slight underarm development from a day in the car. It was all so instantly recognisable and comfortable. He got closer and closer, brushed past the sign and pulled open the heavily sprung glass door, walking in to let it slowly close behind him. Sneakily, the dog popped in through the diminishing gap and dived behind the paper stand. Ed turned around as if he had seen him, went over to the stand and grabbed one of the free papers before turning around and heading over to the table with the ripped seat.
“Can I sit you here, sir?” he heard from one of the ultra yellow waitresses, pointing to a completely different table.
“No thanks, I want to sit here by the window.”
“That’s for six, sir, can I sit you here?” replied the waitress unhelpfully pointing towards a two-seater.
“Look around, can you see any groups fighting over who gets the last six-seater booth, darling?” replied Ed angrily, gesticulating around at a virtually empty diner, apart from one elderly, bald man in a seedy-looking stained raincoat and a couple of old bikers recounting their youth.
“Whatever. I’m getting off in half an hour so why should I care?”
“Now you’ve said that, why should you have cared in the first place?” retorted Ed angrily, causing the woman to disappear behind the counter along with a massive sigh that could have taken at least fifty percent of the oxygen from the room. Ed remained unmoved, picked up the menu from the table, gave it a quick glance and headed over to the self-serve counter to order his £2.99 ‘all day’ breakfast, even though it was late afternoon.
“I’ll need to bring it over to you; the sausages aren’t ready,” said the same girl, relocated behind the till.
“That’s fine,” replied Ed, as he handed over a five-pound note, took his change and returned to the table with a generous mug of coffee. Meanwhile, the dog had slinked under the tables and was hiding next to Ed’s booth. Ed plonked his coffee down on the table, took out his vibrating iPhone from his pocket and stared at it in dismay.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” he uttered with annoyance, as he slid the screen lock and began tapping away at the device. Meanwhile his small furry alter ego had jumped up on the seat next to Ed, startling him and causing him to drop his phone next to the coffee, just as the two bikers took their leave.
“Crikey, where did you come from?” said Ed, as he stared at the dog. He put his two front paws up onto Ed’s upper legs, trying to look as sweet and fluffy as possible, finally resorting to stretching upwards on his hind legs and licking under Ed’s chin. With this, Ed pushed him down onto the seat, grabbed his arms around him and holding him aloft, exclaimed,
“Is this anyone’s dog? Hey, is this anyone’s dog?”
The grumpy girl came over with his bargain cuisine.
“You can’t have pets in here. Didn’t you read the sign on the door? NO PETS,” she shouted nastily.
“Christ, it’s not mine. It just came over and started licking me. What can I do?”
“George, is this your dog? George?” she shouted at the only other person in the diner, getting a muted negative grunt in response. The seedy man continued to stare down at his empty plate, unmoved.
“Well it’s not mine either. Sorry, but I’ll have to serve you outside. Come on and bring the bloody dog with you,” she exclaimed, as she marched off out the door with his food and coffee.
“You’re polite. Where were you trained, Michelin school?” replied Ed angrily.
“I’m just doing my job if you’ll let me. Come on. You’ll have to go outside,” replied the girl.
“Chrissake. It’s freezing out there. Bloody hell!” exclaimed Ed, as he followed her out, dog under one arm, jacket under the other, the free newspaper left with disregard. Once outside, he put the dog down and tried to get rid of him.
“Go on, go over there,” he exclaimed, pointing towards the bushes. However, the hound followed in the footsteps of the girl with the food as she plonked it disrespectfully on one of the tables outside the window. He jumped up onto one of the wooden slatted benches fixed to the table and waited for Ed. He remembered it was the very same table he had stolen food from when he was a falcon.
Ed joined him as the girl rudely brushed past and back into the diner without a word. Ed put his jacket on and sat clasping his coffee with both hands. The dog sat obediently looking up at him with endearing seduction.
“You mutt, look what you’ve done. I’m freezing out here,” moaned Ed, as he put the coffee down and began munching through the breakfast, accompanied by a pining, whimpering sound from the dog, outstandingly happy to be back with himself.
“Christ, if I give you this, will you shut up?” exclaimed Ed, as he passed him down a piece of bacon, wondering what he was going to do with the refugee puppy. He devoured the tasty meat as Ed switched his attentions to yet another text, after which he put his phone down and drank more coffee. Soon the coldness bit a little deeper and Ed headed back into the diner for another plea to find the dog’s rightful owner, just missing a new text arriving on his phone. The vibrations shot through the whole table and into the wooden planks, shaking the dog’s internal organs like a mini-blender. Meanwhile, inside the diner, Ed headed across to the counter to speak to the girl once more.