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

would surely nudge Jenny in the right direction to join the group and form a quartet of time travel believers.

Jenny and I had come to a stalemate over my time-travel story, almost avoiding the subject as if it didn’t exist. However, I was pleased to be no longer relegated to the sofa. Although the Hammers wouldn’t end up on the sofa, the way they were playing, I wondered if they’d be relegated this year.

Jenny was still having that head and heart tug of war going on. As devastating as it was, the bombing had delivered clear evidence I was who I said I was. However, Jesus, asking anyone to believe my past was such a huge stretch, even for Jenny, who I knew loved me unconditionally.

The Hammers lost again, and after watching their woeful performance George and I consoled ourselves in the Three Horse Shoes with a pint each.

“Do they get relegated, lad? If they carry on playing like this, I'm sure they will. Bloody depressing.”

“Don't know, George. Remembering all the league positions from the ’70s is a bit of a stretch. Liverpool win the league, and Man-United win the cup, but I wouldn't have a clue of any other results. Actually, while I think of it, I need you to put a bet on for me. As I said, most bookies in the town groan when I walk in, and it’s getting noticed that I seem to have a crystal ball.”

“Yes, I’m sure they do. You’ll have to be careful,” he chuckled. “I can’t get into town until next Saturday. Will that be alright?”

I slipped twenty-quid across the table. “Oh, yeah, that’s fine. The bet is for Nott’s Forest to win the league next year. The odds should be huge.”

George slipped the note in his wallet. “Will do, lad, but I’ll be surprised if they don’t win the second division this year. Brian Clough has got his team playing well. Although he is such a big mouth, he gets on my ruddy nerves.

“Ha, no, I don’t mean the second division. They win the first division next year, straight after being promoted.”

George raised his eyebrows, “Good grief that Cloughy bloke may be excused for the size of his head if that happens!”

“It does.”

“Right, well, I’ll stick that bet on next week. I think I’ll make it forty-quid, and we can split the winnings.”

“Good idea, you can’t lose. Anyway, enough of that. I need to bring you up to speed with Martin.”

“Oh yes, lad. You said there was a significant update on that front. What’s happened?”

I filled George in on my conversation with Martin on Thursday evening regarding his real father being the rapist who’d attacked his mother, plus the fact that she never reported the rape for fear of what would happen. I left out the bit about Martin and Lisa, his love of page three, and his disappointment of not being able to enjoy ‘Pornhub’ any more. I didn’t think George needed to know about internet porn, and I didn’t fancy explaining it.

“So George, you remember back in September when I told you David Colney had assaulted a girl at school? She’s the young girl who works part-time in the Maypole Jewellers shop.

“Yes, lad, good job that evil bloke had that accident on the roof of those flats.”

If only he knew, I thought. However, I wasn’t sure what his reaction would be to discover I’d been involved in David’s death. Although George knew David was evil, he wouldn’t be too thrilled with that news.

“Yes, quite, lucky that. Anyway, that was Sarah Moore, Martin’s mother. Martin said her mother told him she was raped by the brother of the boy who assaulted her. That means that Sarah was raped in the late ’80s by one of David Colney’s brothers!”

“Good grief!” George shifted forward and leant across the table. We were now talking in hushed voices as the story started to unfold. “Which brother do you think it was?”

“George, I’ve no idea. David Colney has three brothers. Paul and Patrick are older than him, and I’m confident they are the two who supplied me with my nose realignment last year. Although I don't know his name, there’s a younger brother who’s about eleven years old.

“Well, it can't be the younger one, can it? He’s only a lad, so it must be one of the older brothers.”

“Keep up, George. The rape took place in 1987, which is in ten years from now. The younger brother will be twenty-one!”

“Oh, yes, of course, poor girl. Dreadful business. That whole family needs stringing up!”

“You two boys look like Julian and Dick from the Famous-Five, all huddled up whispering. What’s the next adventure, five on a pub crawl?” sniggered Dawn, as she swivelled around on her stool.

George and I both pulled back and looked up at Dawn and Dennis, both of us now sporting a silly grin. It was lovely to see them both, drinks in hand, and I suspected a few more inside them even at this early hour. We often enjoyed their company, but this evening we needed some privacy.

“Yes, Dawn, something like that,” I offered back, although it was more akinto ‘Two in a bit of a fix’ rather than the ‘Five enjoyinglashings of ginger beer.’

We both leant across the table again, retaking our positions. “When I came around to see Martin the night after he arrived he was sitting on the bed. He looked a bit rough, and his glasses were on the bedside table. It was uncanny how much he looked like the Colney twins. At the time, I just put it down to the fact I was tired after arguing with Jenny for most of the previous evening. Also, that day I’d seen Patrick and Paul Colney at court, so I just thought it was my mind playing tricks. But it wasn’t. One of those three is Martin’s real father.”

“Right, lad. From what Martin has said, you’re certain it has to be one of them?”

“Yes, it must be. Also, the