Step Back in Time (22 page)

‘Really?’ Lucy asks in disbelief.

‘Yes.’ I’m quite surprised myself by this revelation. ‘I’ve made some good friends throughout this journey so far, and had some fun times…’ I shake my head. ‘Anyway, let’s talk about you again, not me. This car that hit you back in 2013, it wasn’t white by any chance, was it?’

‘No.’ Lucy vehemently shakes her head. ‘Definitely not, it was black. A shiny black Audi TT.’

‘You seem to remember it well.’

‘Too right I do, and the driver.’

‘Really, what did the driver look like?’

‘That’s easy – exactly like my boss.’

‘Who, Ringo?’

‘No, not that boss, Jo-Jo. My other boss. Harry, Harry Rigby.’

‘Harry hit you with a sports car in 2013?’ I exclaim, hardly able to believe my ears.

Lucy nods. ‘Yep. So you can imagine how I felt when I got here and found him living in 1985 as happy as Larry, without a care in the world, when he’d wrecked mine.’

My mind rushes with thoughts faster than my brain can sift through them.

‘Is that why you tried to ruin Harry’s reputation, to get back at him for hitting you with his car?’ So it wasn’t a love-based revenge after all.

Lucy nods guiltily.

‘I didn’t set out to do it; I didn’t even know he was my boss until a week after I started working here. But when your mate started poking her nose around and asking questions, I couldn’t help myself. The man ruined my life, Jo-Jo!’

‘And you could have ruined his, too. Even if the stuff about drugs wasn’t true, if the papers had got hold of that rumour his business name would have been damaged for ever.’

‘I know and I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have done it, I realise that now.’

Lucy does look genuinely distraught. So I decide to pursue some of the other questions that are now jostling for position in my brain. Which Harry was this in Liverpool? The Harry I’d originally met in 2013? This Harry from 1985, or a different Harry I’d not yet discovered?

‘So when Harry hit you with the car, what exactly did he look like – an older version of himself?’

‘No, very much like this one, only wearing cooler clothes! Sorry,’ she apologises, ‘I shouldn’t joke about it.’

‘It’s fine,’ I say, still thinking. ‘You have to smile about this whole thing, or you’d just go mad trying to work it out sometimes. So, if it wasn’t
this
Harry that hit you – that means it must be an another version of him…’

‘What do you mean?’ Lucy asks. ‘I’ve been wondering about that too: how come he hadn’t aged from 1985? I know plastic surgery is good back in 2013 but it’s not
that
good and we’re talking twenty-eight years!’

‘It’s the only way to explain what’s happening,’ I say, looking at her across the table. ‘There must be many versions of all of us existing at once. Usually our paths would never meet, but when something abnormal happens, like what’s happened to the two of us, where we’ve jumped over from one zone into another, our paths sometimes have to cross with those we’ve known before.’

‘I’ve heard of that. Don’t they call it parallel universes?’

‘Yes, I think they do. A friend of mine likes to describe it in book terms, though, he says it’s like characters —’

‘From one book crossing over into another,’ Lucy chips in. ‘They’re not really supposed to be in that story, but they kind of fit?’

‘Yes, it was something similar.’

‘You must know George,’ she says, nodding.

‘You’ve met?’

‘Yeah, briefly. He came into Rocky’s club one day and I served him.’

‘George was in Rocky’s club?’

‘Never seen him before or since, mind. But Rocky seemed to know him pretty well. Rocky sometimes spouts a similar type of flowery nonsense when he’s trying to make a point, too.’

That’s something I didn’t expect to hear. George and Rocky being big pals.

‘So what do you reckon, Jo-Jo?’ Lucy asks. ‘Do you reckon you’re gonna hang around here long enough for us to be friends? It would be good to know someone who actually knew who Brad Pitt was, or the joy of a skinny vanilla latte?’

‘Oh,’ I sigh, ‘don’t talk to me about the lack of decent coffee shops. I’m desperate for a Starbucks or a Costa.’

Lucy smiles. ‘There’s a few Costas about in London if you search them out already. Not much choice, mind. But I tell you what,’ she continues eagerly, ‘when our first local Starbucks opens, we’ll be its first two customers. We time travellers have to stick together, you know.’

‘Not too long to wait for that skinny vanilla latte then,’ I smile.

‘So does that mean we’re friends now?’ she asks hopefully.

‘Friends,’ I reply taking Lucy’s hand and squeezing it. ‘Whatever universe or coffee shop we’re in.’

Later, as I lie on the settee in my flat above the record shop, with the kids from
Fame
dancing away to themselves on the television in front of me, I try and fit a few more pieces of the puzzle into place.

Every decade I’ve been in so far has been strange in some way, but this one feels different. There are too many weird things going on this time, too many coincidences.

Like Lucy coming back from 2013 after being knocked down by a car driven by Harry. Stu being here again when I already met him in 1977, and then him and Ellie getting together too. I spoke to Lucy about paths crossing, but this is like some great big tapestry where all the threads are beginning to weave into one another – except the picture it’s creating isn’t a very clear one. The threads aren’t making any sense. I need to untangle them and stitch them into something I can understand. But what is it?

The phone rings in the hall, so I roll up off the settee to answer it.

‘Jo-Jo, guess what?’ It’s Ellie’s excited voice, flowing at full speed down the line.

‘What?’ I ask, my mind still on my needlework issues.

‘Stuart says he can get us all into Live Aid at the weekend. Me and you, as well as George!’

‘That’s great,’ I reply half-heartedly, not really absorbing what Ellie is saying.

‘Are you kidding me? It’s gonna be mega, the music event of the decade, if not the century! And all you can say is
that’s great
.’

‘Sorry, of course that’s absolutely fantastic! And very generous of him. But how come he can do that for so many of us?’

‘The band he roadies for is playing a set, so he’s gonna be backstage with them; apparently there’s tickets floating about for all those who’re involved. Ooh, I can’t wait! Stuart says it’ll be a once-in-a-lifetime event.’

‘I’m sure it will. Tell Stuart thanks, I’d love to come.’

As I put the phone back on the receiver, the phrase Ellie uttered still rings in my ears.
A once-in-a-lifetime
…

Of course it’s once in a lifetime for Stu. It’s going to be the end of one lifetime for him.

Unless…

It’s the morning of Saturday 13 July 1985 and the whole country seems to be in the grip of Live Aid fever.

Stu, as promised, has got us all passes to get into the concert at Wembley Arena, and, at my request, has even managed to swing an extra one for Harry, too. It’s my thank you to him for letting me see Lucy the other day, and also because I still feel guilty for ever doubting him in the first place.

But even though this is my way of making it up to him, his unresolved issues with George still bother me, so I’ve formulated a plan to try and get them together to ‘talk it out’. Unfortunately, this also ties in heavily with my plan to try and help Stu, so there’s an awful lot riding on this concert this afternoon, other than simply raising a lot of much-needed money for Africa. If only those bands knew…

I’ve figured out, from what Stu told me back in 1977, that this must be the concert he got electrocuted at. He said it was a huge outdoor gig, and he hadn’t been able to set the equipment up himself. So this must be the one – at least, I hope it is.

All I have to do is stop him from getting to the concert and plugging in the equipment, and I’ll prevent him from being electrocuted. It’s as simple as that. At least, it sounds that simple!

‘Jo-Jo, are you nearly ready?’ I hear called up the stairs. It’s George. ‘Public transport will be jam-packed today with all this going on.’

I look towards my TV where I’ve been watching the concert preparations taking place all morning, then I glance at my watch and I take a deep breath.
Here goes
…

‘Just coming, George!’ I call.
Now don’t you be late, Harry
, I think as I go slowly down the stairs.
I can’t imagine you’re ever late and today is not the time to try it out for the first time
.

‘Nice outfit,’ George says as I walk through the side door into the shop. I’m wearing black leather trousers, black boots, and a black and white blouse with a large pussy bow at the neck. ‘Very Princess Di.’

‘Am I?’ I say, looking at my reflection in the window of the shop. ‘I hardly think so.’

‘Fine-looking woman,’ George says.

‘Yes, I suppose she was.’

‘Was?’ George questions.

I look at George. Just when I think I might have it all figured out and I know what George’s part in all this is, he says something like that.

‘Oh!’ I say, looking out of the window at the bright red Ferrari that’s just drawn up on the opposite side of the road. ‘Isn’t that Harry?’

Harry sits tightly in his seat, waiting for me. He doesn’t look like he’s going to be persuaded to move from it easily either.

‘What’s Harry doing here?’ George asks, looking through the window. ‘Is he coming too?’

‘Just hold on one moment, George,’ I say, opening the shop door and rushing outside.

‘Why don’t you come in?’ I call to Harry. ‘I’m not quite ready.’

‘I’m fine just here, thanks,’ Harry says, looking straight ahead.

Damn!
This calls for drastic measures.

‘Well, I’ll just be a minute.’

I head back inside the shop, but no sooner have I set foot inside than I’m back out on the pavement again.

‘Harry, quick, I need your help, it’s George! I don’t know what’s wrong with him, but he’s laid out on the floor and I don’t think he’s breathing!’

Harry’s head snaps around, he casts his blue eyes quickly over me, then looks with alarm to the shop.

‘Do you think it might be a heart attack?’ I add, in case he needs further encouragement.

But I needn’t have worried. Without bothering to open the door, Harry has already leapt from his car, and is running over the road straight past me into the shop.

‘Where is he?’ he demands, looking at the deserted interior.

‘Where’s who?’ George asks, appearing from the back.

‘But Jo-Jo s-said…’ Harry stutters, looking confused.

‘Sorry!’ I call apologetically from the door. ‘But I had to get you two talking. Now I’m even sorrier for what I’m about to do next!’

I grab the key to the shop door where George has just put it in readiness to lock up, then I pull the door shut and lock it securely from the outside.

‘Jo-Jo!’ Harry shouts, banging on the glass panel window. ‘Open this door at once!’

‘No, not until the two of you sort out your differences, or at least try and talk about them.’

Through the glass I see George shrug as Harry now rattles on the interior door that leads to the stairs up to my flat. I hold up that key in front of the glass and wave it at him.

I turn away from the shop knowing there’s nothing more I can do for the moment except hope, and move my thoughts on to my other problem – Stu.

My original idea had been to do something similar to what I was doing to George and Harry right now. But I knew Stu was likely to break the door down if I tried. Live Aid was
the
event to be at today, whether you worked in the music industry or not. And there was no way Stu would miss out for the sake of a piece of plywood and some glass.

So I’d called in my favour – from Rocky.

And like the true gangster he was, he hadn’t asked any questions.

So right at this minute I was praying that Stu was detained somewhere at Rocky’s pleasure. I’d insisted to Rocky that ‘his boys’ were not to lay a finger on him, just to keep him away from the concert until it was all over, and Rocky, somewhat grudgingly to begin with, had agreed.

I sigh, and rest my head back against the cool brick wall behind me for a moment.
So far so good. Everything seems to be going to plan for once
.

‘You
are
still here!’ Ellie calls as a motorbike zooms up next to me with two people riding on it. She lifts her helmet and shakes out her blonde hair. ‘We were ringing and ringing before we left a few minutes ago, but no one answered.’

‘Yeah, there’s some stuff going on in the shop, and we’ve been kinda tied up.’

‘
You’ve
been tied up!’ Ellie exclaims. ‘What about poor Stuart? Some bloke tried to mug him earlier outside his flat.’

The passenger on the bike lifts his helmet now. It’s Stu.

‘They did?’ I ask, looking at him in horror.

‘Yeah,’ Ellie continues, ‘but luckily I was just pulling up on me bike. I took one of them out with my helmet, and the other I used my pepper spray on. They soon scarpered.’

‘She’s my hero,’ Stu says, leaning across the saddle to kiss Ellie. ‘Without you I might not have made it to the concert, and I’m late now already.’

‘Yeah, sweetie, we’ll be off in a sec,’ Ellie says, looking lovingly back at him. ‘I just want to make sure Jo-Jo is OK. Is that Harry’s car?’ she asks, looking at the red Ferrari.

‘Yes,’ I reply distractedly.
What am I going to do now?

‘Where is he, then?’

‘Er… he’s in the shop talking to George.’
At least, I hope that’s what they’re doing.

‘Really? How’d you manage to get Harry Rigby to do that? Those two are sworn enemies, aren’t they?’

‘Ellie, sweetheart,’ Stu interrupts, ‘I really have to be going!’

‘Sure, sorry. Look, I’ll catch up with you later, Jo-Jo, we have to fly!’

‘No!’ I cry, thrusting my hand out to prevent her putting her helmet back on. ‘I mean: you can’t go yet.’

‘Why?’ Ellie asks, baffled. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I – I’m worried, that – that there might be a fight!’ I improvise.

‘Between Harry and George?’ Ellie laughs. ‘I hardly think so. Besides,’ she winks, ‘I wouldn’t fancy Harry’s chances if there was! Sorry, babe,’ she pulls on her helmet properly this time, ‘but we have to go! My man is an important cog in the Live Aid machine today, and I’m gonna get him there on time if it kills me!’

It won’t kill you, I think, as I watch them U-turn in the road and zoom off down the street. But it probably will Stu.

‘Damn!’ I shout, stamping my foot on the ground in frustration. ‘Damn you, Ellie, and your blasted motorbike.’

‘Problem?’ a voice enquires next to me.

‘Ringo?’ I ask in astonishment, amazed to see him out of his usual habitat – the club. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Lucy told me what happened,’ he says darkly. ‘Is there somewhere we can go to talk?

‘Um…’ I think about the last time Ringo and I ‘talked’. ‘I’d say come into the shop,’ I offer, ‘but there’s some stuff going on in there right now.’

‘A quick coffee, then?’ he asks. ‘Over the road? This won’t take long.’ He gestures to a café on the opposite side of the road a little way along from George’s shop.

‘Sure,’ I nod. Lucy said that Ringo wasn’t all bad, and as I look dejectedly in the direction of the departed motorbike, I realise there isn’t much I can do now for Stu anyway – but at least I tried.

‘You can’t win them all,’ Ringo says, after we’ve walked along the road a little, crossed over on the crossing and entered the café.

‘What do you mean?’ I ask, sitting down at a table near the window. I figure that at least if I’m in full view nothing too bad can happen to me. Whatever Lucy said, I still don’t trust him.

‘Two coffees, please love,’ Ringo asks the waitress, who appears immediately to take our order. ‘That OK with you, Jo-Jo?’

‘Yes, fine thanks,’ I reply, watching him. Even away from the club he’s immaculately dressed as always in a sharp black suit, white shirt and tie. I almost smile. If you were to ask me to describe what a gangster looks like, Ringo would fit the bill exactly. But I don’t feel much like smiling at the moment. ‘What did you mean before outside? You can’t win them all?’

‘When you try to help people,’ Ringo says, looping his big fat fingers together on the table in front of him, ‘it doesn’t always go right.’

I eye him suspiciously across the table. What is he getting at? I take a quick glance behind me, half expecting two big thugs to be standing in the doorway, ready to dispose of me when Ringo gives them the nod. But there’s no one. The café, like so many other places today, is empty, while everyone watches the Live Aid concert. Even the waitress is watching a little portable television placed prominently on the counter.

‘I try and help people all the time,’ he continues. ‘But they’re always suspicious of my motives. People like you, for instance.’

I swallow hard. What has Lucy been telling him?

The waitress brings our coffee now. She puts two cups of brown hot liquid on the table, with a jug of milk and some sachets of sugar.

Ringo lifts the jug and pours a fair amount of the milk into his own coffee, then opens three of the sachets of sugar and tips them into his cup while I silently watch him.

‘Like yours black, do you?’ he asks, looking at my untouched coffee. ‘Can’t bear it like that myself. I’m a latte man; caramel is my favourite, gingerbread if it’s available. But until that comes along, this is the best I can do.’ He lifts his cup of coffee and begins to drink from it. His black eyes study me intently while I sit, open-mouthed, opposite him.

‘You – you’re one of us?’ I whisper in amazement across the table, looking carefully around me as though the waitress might overhear us from the counter, but she’s too engrossed in Status Quo’s ‘Rockin’ All Over the World’ right now. ‘You must be, to know coffee like that. Only someone from the future would know about lattes and different-flavoured syrups.’

Ringo takes another sip of his coffee, then puts his cup down.

‘I am indeed.’

‘But why didn’t you say so before?’

‘I didn’t know you were too until Lucy came to me with a story about how you were her new best friend and you really understood what she was going through etc, etc. I figured the rest out from there.’

‘How long have you been here?’ I ask ‘Where are you from?’

‘I’ve been here a long, long time, Jo-Jo,’ Ringo says, not really answering my question. ‘So long, in fact, that I can’t really remember what my life was like before. I help out those that I find in a similar predicament to me, and help them get back on their feet again so they can move on.’

‘Like the girls in the club?’ I ask. ‘Although I fail to see how turning some of them into strippers is helping them.’

‘Jo-Jo, don’t go all holier-than-thou on me. I’ve had enough of that in the past. It’s not ideal, I know, but the club gives them contacts, they meet people, and with my help they move on in life, get better jobs, without being taken advantage of. And stripping, although we prefer to call it exotic dancing, is as far as it goes, I can assure you.’

I think about this. ‘That’s what Lucy said. Is that really true, though? No funny business goes on behind the scenes?’

Ringo puts his hand on his heart. ‘May Archangel Michael strike me down with his mighty sword now if I’m lying – and just between the two of us, he’s one mighty fearsome dude.’

I can’t figure out if Ringo is being serious now.

‘But what I’m trying to tell you is, Jo-Jo, sometimes you win, and sometimes you lose at this game.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Sometimes the things you do to try and help people work out for the good, and sometimes they don’t. But when they don’t, it’s because they’re not supposed to. Believe me, I know. I’ve been doing it long enough.’

I still look blankly at him.

‘Take, for instance, your friend Stu. He was always going to get to that concert whatever you did. It’s his destiny. Nothing you can do about it.’

I look out of the window again. ‘But poor Stu – and now poor Ellie, too. She’s going to suffer as well when he dies. She’s besotted with him.’

‘Yes, she will,’ he says, nodding. ‘But it will make her a stronger person for it.’

‘But
why
? Why can’t I just stop all this bad stuff happening to people? What’s the point to all this if no good can come from it?’

‘Because, if Stu doesn’t plug that amp in, then someone else will. That is Stu, and now Ellie’s, destiny. You can’t change that. You don’t need to change that. You’re here to do and learn other things. Am I making any sense?’

I shrug. ‘Sort of…’

‘However, if you were to look back down the road,’ he says, turning his gaze out of the window towards Groovy Records, ‘you’d see two old friends who should never have been parted, reunited once more. That’s because of you, Jo-Jo. Apart from what you’ve learnt about yourself, that’s what good you’ve done by being here in 1985.’