Where The Time Goes.

By Chris Cook

John lived on the edge but he didn't expect solo cave diving to lead to this. His 21st Century dive took him back 100 years to the trenches of World War One. He is sent over the top and spends the rest of the book trying to unwind the events of that day. This takes him through a complex web of relationships and exciting adventures in time.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chris Cook
• Release date: Oct 6, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311740069

Book preview

'Where the time goes?'

By Chris Cook

ISBN: 9781311740069

© Copyright 2014 Chris Cook

Smashwords Edition

2nd edition – several typos fixed

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other works by this author.

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Where the time goes

Diary of an accidental time traveller

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Where the time goes? Chapter 1

Diary of an accidental time traveller Friday Sept 12th

The old door of the beautiful old village pub creaked open like it had every night for more than four hundred years. It was, and had always been along with the church a central hub of the village.

The ancient wooden cased clock behind the barman chimed seven, just as John entered and struck up conversation.

‘Hi Andy, good to see you, where were you today?’ said John as he walked the few steps from the door to the bar.

‘Hi John, back again so soon eh?’ John looked surprised. ‘Nothing special happened for me,’ continued Andy, ‘just the usual, saving the world stuff, serving the world, making my fourth million on the stock exchange, how about you?’

‘Cheeky monkey, back so soon, I haven’t been here for, well ages.’

It was the barman’s turn to look surprised by John’s lack of awareness of time.

John continued, ‘I haven’t been up to anything half as world changingly exciting as you by the sound of it, but we did find a completely new cave complex in the quarry,’ he replied calmly and confidently. ‘I am thinking there could well be some very rare and special riches down there. Not sure what yet.

Oh and one very strange thing did happen though, as I left the house I found an old screwed up receipt stuffed through my door for a breakfast in Brighton that I haven’t had yet. That was peculiar.’

‘Very strange, a breakfast you haven’t had yet? Hmm let me think about that for a while, how about this cave then? What’s it like?’ said Andy, tossing his mop of striking red hair out if his eyes.

‘It looks fantastic on first glimpse – full of beautiful crystals, stalactites and mites and rich veins of ore running right through it.’

‘Nice.’

‘Yes I was half thinking of doing some exploring tomorrow if you fancy coming.’

‘I’d love to but I am doing shifts in the pub all weekend so I’m not sure I can spare the time, I have to save up for my fifth million you know.’

‘Ok. Maybe later in the week then? What’s that golden Medal behind the bar Andy?’ John asked pointing at the shelf beside the optics.

‘It’s a First World War peace medal, they found it between the walls during the pub renovation.’

‘Nothing too strange then. Something about it caught my eye.

Are the ladies here yet?’

‘Yes sat over there, as lovely as ever.’ Andy replied.

Two stunningly beautiful girls were seated in the window seat each with their own colourful cocktail.

Andy tossed his mane of bright hair over his right eye again so he could get a better look at Angela, his sister Lynn’s best friend who was sitting with her.

She was tall and slim and wearing a fetching mini skirt well above her knee. Her teal green nail polish looked very co-ordinated against the yellow, green and red of her cocktail. She sucked with her ruby red lips on the curly cocktail straw.

Andy enjoyed the fact that he had Lynn as his younger sister. She was always befriending beautiful people like Angela. Lynn and Angela had recently broken into modelling and were starting to get some big bookings in faraway places like the Bahamas and Japan. Andy couldn’t quite see why, to him she was just his sister.

Andy turned to the landlord and said.

‘That’s me done for the night then Lance. Have a good one.’

‘You too Andy, thanks for the help today.’

Andy and John sauntered over and sat down with the girls.

‘So been anywhere nice lately Angela?’ asked John as directly as ever.

‘Not really, I just came back from a beachwear shoot in Singapore. Long way to go to find a beach but it was for an Asian company so they wanted things a bit local to them.’

‘Wow, how was that?’

‘Nice, they put us up in the famous Raffles Hotel and bussed us to Sentosa holiday Island for the shoot, funnily enough I found out my granddad was there during the Second World War, protecting the Island in his warship. He was dive bombed by the Japanese in the harbour and his ship escaped with three unexploded bombs still onboard.’

‘Interesting! My dad’s been doing some family research about the First World War as it’s some sort of special anniversary.’ said John. ‘He’s found out that our great granddad was fighting in the trenches somewhere and there’s all sorts of papers about him being bombed and gassed.’ said John.

‘Aren’t you glad we have never seen a war?’

‘Yep, I’m not sure I could fight and kill people.’

‘You might if you had to. What if it was a ‘one on one, you or them’ situation? Would you be able to shoot first and kill?’

‘I don’t know – I would probably hesitate and be dead and be none the wiser.’

‘Stop this morbid talk you two. It’s party night and we need to party like it’s the last day of our lives.’

‘Oh and it’s your birthday I believe Angela. Even more reason to celebrate.’

‘Sounds good to me but please don’t remind me of another birthday. A model is only a real model while she is still young.’

‘Anyway what were you doing sneaking in here earlier John?’ said Angela.

‘Moi? Liitle moi? You must be mistaken beautiful lady. I’ve not been in here since aww, last night.’

Andy and Angela looked a little surprised at John’s apparent bare faced lie.

‘Funny I could have sworn I saw you as I nipped to the loo.’ said Angela.

‘Taxi for Sutton.’ said the man who appeared at the door.

‘Ah yes that’s me.’ replied John.

‘Cinderella’s night club isn’t it?’

‘Yep.’

‘Cool. Well I will be waiting outside when you are ready. Meter running of course.’

‘Ok. Thanks.’

John’s attention was suddenly captured again by a gold medal behind the bar which for some reason was speaking to him like an angel shouting above the hubbub. He soon managed to shake the idea off and get himself back into celebration night.

The four quickly finished their drinks and were in the taxi heading for one of the newest and shiniest venues in the area. Millions had been spent on it and it was attracting beautiful people from all around. Footballers, racing drivers, models, nurses, they were all there dancing the night away.

Tonight there was a big London DJ in the house and everyone expected it to be a thumping good party.

The club was in the converted stable block of a beautiful country hotel. You would need a taxi to get up the drive alone, it was so long. The drive was lit with lights in the trees and it was like a fairy tale castle in the distance.

Stretched Limos and sports cars filled the car park.

The four entered with their VIP invites and left their coats in the cloak room. Angela had been given the tickets by a local agency looking for her to do some work for them so they worked out a perfect birthday treat.

Inside, the club was full of beautiful people. There were two dance floors, each playing music of different styles and genres. Each had a bar or two and a food point and each an outside area which was equally crammed with people enjoying the balmy late summers night.

They drifted upstairs and after a couple of dances all four went onto the quieter roof terrace overlooking the lake and distant glow of civilisation. It was maximum escapism. None had an inkling or suspicion of what may lay ahead. It was all about the moment

‘Enjoying it Andy?’

‘Yes there are plenty of fit wealthy babes and I am young fee and single.’

‘Fit wealthy babes?’ replied his sister Lynn. ‘No wonder you haven’t found yourself a proper girlfriend yet. Your attitude to women stinks.’

‘No, their attitude to me is the problem. I am just doing what men do but it doesn’t seem to be what girls expect. One day, the right one will come along and tame me.’

Andy was quiet normally but very shy around girls but in a night club situation he seemed to release all his inhibitions and go a little bit wild. Occasionally he would dance with a girl and very occasionally he would manage to persuade her out on a normal date but then his self-consciousness would often kick in and stilt things. He was a bit of a mess but a happy mess just then.

‘Anyway Lynn, I don’t see you getting off with any millionaires.’

‘I am happy just dancing the night away, there’s more to life than getting off with someone wealthy. I get plenty of opportunity for that when I’m working. Wild parties, drug induced frenzies are a matter of course for me. I really like someone like John you know. He is so grounded and handsome.’ She slapped his cheek, gently with the back of her hand.

She loved her brother Andy but that was half of the problem. She wanted to see him make a big success of his life. She wanted to have family picnics beside the river with his wife and kids where they all played happily in the dappled shade but couldn’t see it happening quite yet.

John managed to persuade Lynn to dance a few smoochy numbers with him between driving rhythmic gyrations.

Around three O’clock Lynn whispered in John’s ear. ‘Would you like to go outside for a while and get some air and a little peace?’

‘Sounds like a lovely idea.’ replied John, excited at the prospect of being alone with Lynn.

Outside it was cool and very dark. The stars twinkled brightly in the dark sky with only occasional orange glow on the horizon from local towns and villages. They walked a little way hand in hand past the smokers and then suddenly Lynn turned and hugged John passionately kissing his lips as she cradled his head.

John responded romantically as they were suddenly locked in a passionate embrace which took both their breath away.

‘Would you like to go out for a meal sometime Lynn?’

‘Love to. I have always admired you from afar but with my new career and life I don’t want to lose touch like could easily happen with me jet setting all over the world.’

‘Me too, You don’t think I was always coming round to see Andy do you? He is a good friend but a rubbish kisser.’ They both laughed and kissed again until their knees went a little weak.

‘Hmm that was special. Sent shivers down my spine,’ said Lynn. ‘Like a last kiss before a soldier heads off into battle. Perhaps we had better get back inside before we catch cold.’

They danced together for the rest of the night while Andy and Angela also seemed to be getting better acquainted.

It was nearly five in the morning and the sun was beginning to surface when they succumbed to the taxi and returned back to the real world and the pub car park they had left some eight hours earlier. Lynn and Andy embraced their new founder, deeper friendships and all exchanged hugs and kisses before returning their separate ways to their beds.

John and Lynn enjoyed one special lingering kiss before parting and before John walked up the lane to quarry house. John wondered what had suddenly changed. Was there something he was doing to make girls more attracted to him or was it just fate and that time in his life?

Saturday Sept 13th

It must have been nearly eleven before John started to come to his senses again, the house was quiet and the bed was soft but it had been restless all night with one leg always out of the covers regulating his temperature.

His first thoughts were for Lynn and what a special evening they’d had. This could be the start of something very special he thought.

He lay, formulating thoughts in his head of what to fill his day with. It was getting near a new phase in his life and he wanted to make the most of his opportunities while he could. Within a month he would be in the big city, far from the tranquillity of fairy quarry.

Weekends were ghostly in the works. Where there was noise and dirt all week long an eerie silence echoed if silence can. He thought for a moment of the generations of stone workers who had slept peacefully in his room. The cottage was at least a hundred years old and the quarry more, having supplied the stone for the walls of this house and many throughout the county.

He enjoyed a hot shower followed by cereal before getting into his caving gear. It was time for him to explore for the master lode.

He selected a helmet and lamp along with a spare in a metal box from the lean to store at the back of the cottage and headed for the rubble which still surrounded Fridays blasting.

He knew to be careful as he was alone and un-contactable in the case of emergency once underground. He still wanted to be the very first. He glanced down at his watch so as to monitor his battery life. It was just a minute or so after eleven thirty.

The initial entrance was straightforward a small pothole in the side of the rock a little larger than a body. After a crawl of about five metres the chamber opened out into a passage large enough to walk down if you stooped and then it descended sharply as the river must once have down a shaft in the rock. John negotiated safely by bracing himself against the tight walls. By now there was no sign of the light from the entrance of the route back. He was truly alone where no man had been for at least a few thousand years. Perhaps ever.

The chimney dropped him onto a pile of rubble from a collapsed ceiling into a large echoey cavern. He breathed deeply at the prospect, his breath clouding his vision in the moist air.

It was vast. There were delicate stalactites hanging from the ceiling and mites growing up. Even pure white and very rare helictites extended from the side walls like some wizen old witches finger nails. They fascinated John as nobody knew quite how the formed. They were also very delicate so rarely seen in show caves within arm’s reach. Some thought they were possibly the result of static electricity or capillary forces or wind but nobody really knew how they seemed to defy gravity.

Beneath he was careful not to muddy the beautiful crystal floor. It shone like diamonds beneath his feet. This was the kind of unique environment that universities craved for subterranean studies.

He wandered, ever downwards toward the sound of running water. Each pool seemed to give birth to another magnificent formation of crystals and stalagmites. He even started to think of names for the system in case it became his discovery. How does Sutton caves sound? He wondered. The Sutton cave system perhaps. He would be ready for the moment when it came.

Ever downwards he finally found himself beside a body of fast flowing water. It was dark blue and looked quite deep by the light of his headlamp. To the left it entered the cavern from beneath an overhanging rock and departed to the right in the same way.

John spent fifteen minutes or so exploring the extremities of the chamber before coming to the conclusion that the only other way in or out was via the course of the river.

He pondered a while, sat on the edge of a crystal pool while he gently caressed the sharp rhombic calcite. That formed the edge of the pool. The rich vein of ore ran midway through the chamber and was likely to make the quarry a tidy income provided science allowed it to be mined. All around was magnificence but he would need a little more to make it a truly stunning discovery. Perhaps a link into the rest of the river system, perhaps a giant chamber, the largest in the land. His curiosity soon got the better of him and drew him to the upstream sump where the water was entering the cavern.

He was well aware of the dangers and the statistics surrounding water incidents in potholes. Thirty or so died each year merely entering the cold water, many more drowned in sumps.

He gingerly slipped into the water which was less deep than he expected. Pinned close against the entry wall he probed the watery roof of the pipe until finally, just on an arm’s length he was sure he could feel his hand rise enough that his fingers wriggled free in the air. At least it felt like air, or a place where there was no water. Of course it could be stale or lacking in oxygen but it was worth the risk. By now his body had begun to chill and it was time to go or quit. A big breath later and he headed under the water and against the stream for a metre or so until his helmet bobbed up again and out of the water and he took a tentative breath. His reward was fresh air. Damp and stale but at least oxygenated. He had truly made it into a new world.

Like the previous chamber it was sumptuously decorated with crystals and ites. It was so magnificent that he hardly noticed any discomfort from his waterlogged clothes. He walked carefully into the large chamber and looked up for a way out. A rock fall seemed to be his best chance and using all his strength he shimmied up the chimney and emerged into the floor of a pathway between two massive blocks. As he continued left and up the walls and floor became muddier and muddier until finally a crack of light ahead alerted him to the surface again.

Where on earth would he come out? Somewhere in a swallow hole in a nearby field perhaps? As he continued he could hear distant crashing and banging like someone was blasting in the quarry. They never blasted on Saturdays.

He emerged into a head high muddy trench topped with barbed wire when suddenly he heard a familiar voice.

‘Come on Johnny, stop messing about we have got a job to do.’

Behind him, Andy stood in army gear and a tin hat. In one hand a reel of cable and the other a rifle.

‘What are you doing here?’ John asked.

‘I keep asking myself the same thing.’ replied Andy.

‘But Andy, you are supposed to be working down the pub.’

‘I know, anything would be better than here. Oh and please don’t call me Andy, you know I don’t like it. Corporal Andrew Wilson if you please.’

If John wasn’t already confused, the large explosion and muddy fountain of earth and shrapnel above their heads added to his worry.

‘Come on you two. Get firing about the enemy heads to keep them on their toes. Then it’s off across no man’s land for you with the telephony wires.’

‘Yes sergeant.’ Replied Andrew beckoning to John to take up the rifle by his side and start to fire.

‘Keep your head down, just fire over their heads or anywhere in their general direction.’

John tentatively took up the rifle. He instinctively knew how to fire it but in his confusion realised that he was firing left handed. The strange thing was that it didn’t feel unusual. He looked across at Andrew who was firing right handed. This would not have raided alarm bells but Andy was normally very left handed at everything except cricket.

Andrew was wearing a green wide rimmed steel helmet and passed John another.

‘Put this on in may just save your life.

They shot a few more rounds off before the sergeant gave the order.

‘Over the top boys. You know where you have to take the wires. See you on the other side. Go, Go, Go.’

Andrew was soon scrabbling out of the trench through the barbed wire, closely followed by John, carefully tailing him and the cable which he was unreeling as they went.

In and out of rows of barbed wire and sniper fire they weaved in the general direction of a church steeple on the far horizon.

Shells were whistling above their heads and landing with muddy splashes all around them. Some could even be felt so close that the hot burning air from them washed over the pair as they picked their way through obstacles of every sort.

The severed hand still holding a rifle was particularly poignant and burnt in John’s memory as they continued to reel out the cable.

‘What on earth am I doing here?’ Thought John.

Suddenly, before he had time to think any more, a gas canister landed right in front of Andrew. He was immediately de-capacitated. Without a care for his own safety and holding his breath and eyes closed John slung Andrew over his shoulder and made a darting run back to the trench where they came from, bullets whistling closely around their ears.

If this was a dream, a nightmare, he would soon wake up now.

He finally reached the trench again and slid over the row of corpses and down into the ankle deep mud in the bottom.

‘Help me he’s injured, gassed I think.’

‘Get him off to the forward treatment dressing station. Quick as you can man.’ Barked the sergeant at John. He sounded cross that their mission had been somewhat of a failure thus far.

‘Which way?’

‘Which way, SIR if you don’t mind.

That way. Along the trench and turn right and follow your nose. They will look after him there. Then hurry back and finish the job.’

John trudged through ever deepening, strength sapping mud until he finally came across a medical point. Shells continued to whistle overhead and John could feel the increasingly heavy burden of Andrew on his shoulder.

‘What have we got here?’ said the sergeant with a white armband sporting a bright red cross who was treating a soldier on a makeshift trestle.

‘We got gassed.’

‘And shot by the look of it.’ Said the medic fingering a trail of blood down Andrew’s temple from his mop of ginger hair.

‘Leave him on the triage table with me and get back. We will do what we can for him. Doesn’t look too promising though. If he makes it we will send him rearward to the clearing station in Ypres.’

The medic was harsh in his summing up of Andrews condition. There was no time for feelings or niceties.

Andrew was taken from John by two stretcher bearer assistants and laid on the other trestle. John also fingered the trickle of drying blood down Andrew’s cheek. There was no movement from him. His eyes loosely closed.

‘Come on lad, off you go, we don’t want you getting in the way here. Get back to your post.’ Said one of the bearers shushing John back out of the medical dugout.

John finally turned his back with a final prayer for Andy. He was inclined to pray only in desperate times and this was the most desperate since Granddad was knocked off his bike some years earlier.

After a few hundred yards the enormity of his plight hit John. He rested a moment to take deep breaths and try to reconcile the situation. Mud from the shell impacts continually splattered him and he buried his face in his hands for a moment to try to blank out the anguish. His heart was thumping so hard in his chest that the noise from it was deafening. Less than an hour ago he was in bed in rural England. Now he seemed to be in mud filled trenches in some barbaric war zone. John clawed at the side of the trench and the brown earth caught under his tatty finger nails.

He was in some sort of mirror land where everything tranquil was noisy and everything right was left.

Could it really be a vivid dream or perhaps some hallucination brought about by the indulgence from the previous night.

He lay his head in his hands again and quivered. Surely it wasn’t happening. The harsh strong fabric of his uniform chaffed against his cheek. The heavy weight of his tin hat tipped his head forward, straining his neck muscles.

‘Are you alright Tommy? Soldier, are you alright? Came a concerned voice with a knuckle tap to his helmet.

‘Yes, I think so, Where are we? What are we doing here.’

‘I know, I keep asking myself the same thing. We are at Zonnebeke near Ypres in Belgium, October definitely, 31st I think it is. Ho. Ho. 31st October – Halloween, plenty of ghosts and ghoulies.’

‘Is this real?’ pleaded John remembering that it was still September the other side of the cave.

‘As real as it gets Tommy. Now come on, we have a war to win today, well if not a war at least a battle. Who are you with?’

‘I was with Andy, well Andrew. I left him at the medical station.’

‘I see you’re with the Royals.’

‘Home counties reserve signals.’ John replied without thinking from somewhere with some facts he didn’t know.’

‘Like I said, best you get back to your mob.’

With that he was off scurrying to the right at the junction ahead.

It was good of him to stop, thought John. To stop and partially explain his new found present.

John sat quietly again for a few more moments with his face in his muddy blooded hands. He seemed to actually be his Granddad or great Granddad, one of them. His father had been researching his First World War exploits for the centenary but John hadn’t taken enough interest. He fingered his pocket but there was no sign of mobile phone or wallet which he normally kept there. No physical clues to a previous life remained with him. Just some fading memories of peace and tranquillity. Somehow he needed and wanted to get back to his time zone. Somehow he had to return to his world. The best chance was back down the hole he had arrived from. If only he could find it. Finally he was thinking clearly again and had a plan to escape this madness.

John headed off to the left, the mud squelched out of his socks as the weight of his traumatised body weighed heavy on his boots.

‘I’ve only been here an hour or less and I am already totally drained.’ Thought John ‘These poor bastards have probably been here years.’

As he began to recognise his starting point, he saw the Sergeant in the trench ahead of him. He needed to get out of there before he was sent out over the top into no man’s land again. John quickly darted into the dugout hole and slithered through the mud into the ever narrowing tunnel. He didn’t remember it this tight before. Kicking his legs and clawing with his arms he finally reached a small chamber where a stream of dirty water trickled under a wall of mud.

‘Is this really it?’ he asked himself as he slid into the murky sump. A deep breath and a strong tired push with his toes and his face was instantly chilled by the gritty water. One more push, He was either going to emerge or be wedged.

Wedged and on the verge of panic he gave one more thrust with his knees and feet and was free again. He lifted his helmet upwards and could feel the weight return as he broke the surface.

He shook his head in disbelief and hesitation. His eyes barely too scared to open began to focus again; his ears were full of echoing silence.

Ahead on the wall, he could clearly see the circle of his head lamp light. Perhaps he was back in his own time. Perhaps is no exact science.

He looked down at his watch. It was just gone twelve. He’d been away barely an hour but it seemed like a lifetime or at least a hundred years.

Carefully, he followed the route back through the glittering crystals which he had so carefully tried to recognise. The interim trenches somewhat disturbed his thoughts and memory but he was making progress when he finally saw a shaft of light begin to illuminate the wall ahead of him. It filled him with hope but also of trepidation. What is he was back in the war trenches. Worse still, in some worse place if such a place existed.

He began to recognise the entrance hall and finally the view out to the quarry. At least he was in the right place this time.

The bright Summer sun brought joy to his muddy eyes. The house was still there in the distance at the entrance to the quarry. Everywhere was quiet, not even a passing overhead jet. He let himself in the back door and checked the hall clock.

2.14 it said. Exactly one hour ahead of the time shown on his watch which he checked again.

‘Strange,’ he thought. ‘I seem to have lost an hour. Or the Hall clock gained an hour.’

There was no sign of anyone else in the house so he dropped his wet things in the utility room and headed to the bathroom for a warm shower.

He stood for ages, motionless as the water played directly on his face. He was washing away all hint of the war zone. His mind had shut down, unable to comprehend what had just happened to him. The visions of war were imprinted on his eyelids. The mud, the gore, the blood the noises rang in his ears, bullets and shells whistling nearby. He was a mess.

Finally he took pleasure from stepping out of the shower, he tried to leave it behind him in there. He may never be able to use that shower again.

After dressing and putting his boiler suit in the wash he thought it was time to do a little research.

George, his father had been quite taken with genealogy lately. An old man thing when he finally wondered where he had come from.

John pulled down the file box from the top shelf and started sifting through the musty old documents.

He found his great grandfathers apprenticeship indenture. Amazing – 1911 apprentice electrician in the town electric company.

Then a section of World War One things. A medical record. Gassed twice. First time invalided for a month the second time for 2 weeks. Then a picture. It wasn’t him but his great granddad in uniform. He was on horseback with several others on their way to war. On the adjoining horse, the unmistakable face of Andy. His current day friend Andy, his army colleague Andrew with his mop of red hair.

Next a medal. For bravery in the course of duty. Rescuing a fellow soldier from no man’s land and braving the bullets to get him to safety.

The scene played again in his mind. It was horrible but it was him. Bravely rescuing his friend. In fact at the time he felt it just a dream and he was invincible. Perhaps it was a dream. He may never know. Perhaps a wormhole, back in time. Again, he may never know.

It was time to return to the present, he thought. He went to his room and dressed in his smartest and most modern fashionable clothes and slipping his wallet into his pocket with Granddad’s picture in it. He let himself out of the front door back into reality. It was still a very pleasant late summer day as he wandered slowly towards the pub. Everything seemed slightly enhanced to his senses, the colours brighter, the sounds of planes and birds louder and the smell of fresh mown grass stronger as he turned across the car park into the door of the Woolpack.

John opened the door using the unusual handle and wondered as ever why it was there. He walked up to the bar and saw the usual faces sat there supping their usual Saturday ale.

‘Pint of London Pride please, Is Andy on?’

‘Andy?’ replied Lance, the landlord.

‘My mate Andy Wilson, you know works for you?’ Said John with a smile at Lance’s ever playful antics.

‘Nobody called Andy Wilson works here, never has done in my memory.’

John could tell that he was either acting very convincingly or nobody called Andy had ever worked there. John decided to let it drop and wondered to the table in the window to contemplate. He thought he had returned to the present but something was different. Something had changed.

John sat peering out onto the pub garden. Why did the Landlord Lance deny knowing Andy? It didn’t make sense unless of course he had done something very wrong or didn’t want to discuss him in front of the others at the bar.

John returned his glass to the bar and gave the landlord a slightly suspicious nod before wandering back down the lane to the Quarry house they lived in. His mind was still in turmoil. Like in a dream he could not wake up from.

When he got in, he put on the television for the football results. At least Chelsea won. John wasn’t a complete fan but liked to follow a winning team even if he realised they had the money to buy the best team in the league.

About quarter past five his mother and father came in heavily laden with shopping from their expedition to nearby Shepton Mallet.

‘Put us a tea on love?’ said his mother Kay.

Reluctantly John went into the kitchen and filled and boiled the kettle.

‘Do you want one Dad?’

‘Yes please son. It’s always a traumatic time shopping with your mother.

John even made himself one and returned with the three on a tray. He wasn’t sure if he should say anything about his trip down the cave but launched into conversation about his father’s genealogical research.

‘So what did Great Granddad do in the Great war Dad?’

‘Oh interested all of a sudden are we? Now it’s a centenary and all that. I will go and find you the box of things I have later if you like.