Ahead of his Time by Adrian Cousins (read novels website .TXT) 📗

update you as soon as I can. Look can you keep hold of Christopher for two minutes whilst I nip next door? Then I must get going.”

“Yes, son, but don’t keep that wife of yours waiting.”

I nipped back to number eight, desperate to find out what had happened whilst I was with Don, all the time frantically trying to work out what the hell I’d say to Jenny when I got home. When I re-entered the kitchen, George was in full flow. Martin was standing by the sink gazing out the kitchen window, zombie-like as he stared at his own reflection.

“So, as I said, lad, there must be a reason.”

“A reason for what, George?” I asked, as I closed the back door.

George shook his head at me, then raised his eyebrows as he nodded in Martin’s direction. “You’re back then, lad. Jenny doesn’t look too pleased … is she alright?”

“No, George, she isn’t. I have some difficult explaining to do when I get home.”

“Oh, Christ, lad. Can I help in any way?”

“No, George. I’m just going to have to work this one out on my own. Although how I explain the Cortina being here … I have no idea.”

Martin turned and faced me; his hands shoved in his pockets. “George said you came back for a reason. So, I must have come back for a reason too. Do you think that’s possible?”

I shot George a look, concerned with what he’d told Martin. George shook his head to confirm he hadn’t said anything he shouldn’t have.

“And he said you have taken the place of another Jason Apsley, who’s disappeared. Is that right? Fricking hell, I can’t believe I’m saying this.”

“Yes, it is, and I don’t know what happened to the other one. He was born in 1934, and yes, mate, I’ve taken his place. He would be the same age as me now if he existed. When I arrived, I just slotted into his life. Everyone seemed to know me and assumed I was this other Jason. We must be identical, but what the hell happened to him, well, God knows. It seems that you’ve come back as yourself as there doesn’t seem to be another Martin Bretton in this world.” I held up my hands. “Well, we don’t know that, of course, but you showed up at my house, so I guess there isn’t.”

“There’s my dad.”

George and I shot each other a look and then stared at Martin.

Martin gawped at us both, eyes darting from one to the other. “What?” he questioned, raising his hands.

“Hang on, lad. Are you saying your father is called Martin Bretton as well?” George glanced at me again. We both knew what each other was thinking.

“Yeah, so what? It’s just a coincidence, that’s all. No real drama there.”

George and I leant back in our chairs, George raised his eyebrows, and I shrugged back.

“Possible, I guess,” I said to George, and he nodded back.

Martin grabbed the spare chair and slid into the seat. “What’s going on? Why d’you two keep looking at each other?”

“Martin, do you have a middle name?” It wasn’t unusual to call a son the same as a father, especially if it was a family name. However, the name Martin wasn’t exactly a traditional name through the generations.

“Trevor.”

“Right lad, and what’s your father’s middle name?”

“Trevor.”

“Lad, you’re telling me your parents named you after your father with both Christian names the same? Well, there’s nothing as queer as folk as they say.”

“That’s a bit odd, mate, don’t you think?” No, that was more than odd. George and I again glanced at each other, both raising our eyebrows, realising Martin had potentially returned and taken the place of his father, but hell – why?

“Well, yeah, I see what you mean. But it’s just a coincidence, that’s all. My parents didn’t name me after my dad, as Mum hadn’t met dad when I was born.”

George and I swivelled our heads and gawped at Martin, both of us simultaneously exclaiming, “What!”

“I was three months old when Mum met my dad, well, my stepdad. As I said, it's just a coincidence that we both had the same Christian names. It’s always been a talking point over the years on what a funny coincidence it actually was.”

“Lad, where is your step-father now, well not now, in 2019?”

“I’m afraid he died of cancer when I was twelve, three days after the millennium.”

The back door swung open as George and I pondered this new information. I recalled what Martin had said yesterday about me and the fact that I was never interested in anyone else. Of course, back then, I wasn’t. I never knew he lost his father at such a young age.

“Son, Jenny has phoned asking if you’ve left. I said you had, so you better get going, or she’s really going to have your guts-for-garters.”

“Christ, thanks, Don, I’m coming.” My head was now pounding, and the thought of facing the Spanish Inquisition led by Jenny Apsley as the Grand Inquisitor didn’t help.

“Go, lad, I’ll sort Martin out. I’ll call you at school tomorrow lunchtime with any update, but go now.”

Taking Christopher into my arms as Don slung my coat around my shoulders, I scooted back to my car. Not only now getting ready for the grilling which awaited me at home, but also praying George could hold it together and keep everything under wraps with Martin and Don.

9

18th January 1977

Instagram

For the second consecutive night, I’d achieved hardly any sleep. When I arrived home last night, we’d fed the kids, then Jenny organised bath time whilst I busied myself in the kitchen. The atmosphere was treacle-thick, and neither Jenny nor I approached the massive ‘elephant in the room’ until after I’d read Christopher his bedtime story. When we did, Beth had a screaming session which took Jenny an hour to get her back to sleep. It was gone nine when the ‘elephant’ was discussed.

All I could muster up was Martin had purchased my old car on