Time Warped: A Time Travel Novel

By Roger Daniel

All hell breaks loose when workaholic head teacher Robert Williams is thrust back in time to blitz torn London. Will he cope any better than his counterpart, shy and retiring Chester Sowby who finds himself confronted by a class full of today's street wise teens? Will they ever find the way back to their respective places in time.?

Length: 35,000 words

• Language: English
• Publisher: JR Publications
• Release date: Dec 11, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386516484

Roger Daniel

Roger M Daniel B.Ed (Hons.) was born in Romford, Essex shortly after World War II. His impulsive nature has resulted in a rich and fulfilling life. Personal experience as a publican, street market trader and teacher have proved invaluable in writing this novel. Before moving to Northumberland Roger lived and worked in the London Borough of Newham, the setting for this novel. He and his wife Gillian now live in Berwick upon Tweed. They both work as radio presenters in the nearby market town of Alnwick.

Book preview

Dedicated to Gillian for her love, patience and encouragement.

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With special thanks to Martin Daniel and Gail Hek.

Contents

Dedicated to Gillian for her love, patience and endless supply of coffee.

***

Grateful thanks to Martin Daniel

& Gail Hek

CHAPTER ONE

Back in time

‘Never be afraid to dream big dreams. In doing so, you provide wings for your hopes.'

Tilting back his head, Robert Williams grinned as he summed up his lesson.

'I like that phrase, I will share it on social media.'

Little did he realise what life changing effect the phrase had wrought when uttered by a mild-mannered teacher in 1940. He had discovered the quote tucked into a dusty book dating from that year. Realising it could prove useful he had squirrelled it away inside his wallet.

Having spoken the phrase, he sat down feeling disorientated. The sound of children's chatter receded into the distance as Robert lost consciousness. With no idea of the time passage, he came around in time to hear a child enquire,

'What's social media sir?'

He recoiled at the thought of any child being unfamiliar with the term. Robert’s mouth fell open as he stared at the boy. His ragged clothes suggested a bygone age. Looking around the classroom, he sucked in his breath and stared incredulously at the sight. The tubular tables at which the children usually sat, had been replaced with solid wooden desks. His interactive white-board had been replaced by an old-fashioned blackboard. How could this change have taken place without his knowledge? He had been teaching in the room for five years. The smell conjured up a long-buried childhood image.

He recalled accompanying his mother on a visit to her parents. The adults had been in the kitchen, discussing the impending visit of Hilary Sowby, an influential woman from the next street. Robert's grandmother had been boasting of all the work she had done in preparation. The front room had been cleaned and polished immaculately, anything less was bound to become the topic of neighbourhood gossip. Taking advantage of their preoccupation, Robert had crept into the room in question. This was forbidden territory to him, but he could not resist the temptation. Robert remembered the room had the same smell of lavender.

Robert prided himself on his knowledge of the children. Yet, he was unable to recognise these strangely dressed children. Where, he wondered were the familiar trainers, hoodies and casual wear. The children had fought long and hard to wear informal clothing. It was only after the school's recent outstanding Ofsted result, that they had been rewarded by this temporary concession. Now they were dressed in a school uniform, which was grey, with maroon piping around the borders. Whilst, these masked any trace of individuality, this was more than compensated for by the state of their attire. Some wore threadbare jumpers in place of a jacket. Many, whilst wearing footwear lacked socks. Everyone appeared to be poverty stricken. Their threadbare uniforms appeared to have been handed down from older to younger siblings by parents unable to afford new clothing.

Robert wondered if he was suffering from delusion, brought on by his growing hunger. As Assistant Head-teacher he found little time to eat a full meal and would snack whilst he worked. Today had been more rushed than usual as he had an important meeting that evening. How he wished there was more time.

Robert had noted nothing unusual at the beginning of his lesson. He had spoken on the development of the Welfare System.

‘The Second World War stressed the widening gap between rich and poor. When bombs rained down on Coventry and London in 1940, the working classes' fears were realised. Westminster had given little thought or money to their welfare. Starved of medical provision, they felt alienated from society. Many people questioned whether they would be any worse off under Hitler's rule.’

Wanting to develop the powers of reasoning, Robert questioned the class.   

‘How would you respond, faced with a people who saw little reason to fight?’

The class went quiet until one girl responded,

‘I would give them something worth fighting for.’ Robert nodded as a beaming smile spread across his face.

‘That’s exactly what happened. The ruling class realised unless their attitude towards the poor changed they would face a rebellion. The Welfare System was provided as a panacea. Its declared aim was to protect everyone, both rich and poor from the cradle to the grave.’

He summed up the lesson before uttering the phrase that was to change his life, just as it had that of Chester’s.

‘Never be afraid to dream big dreams.......'

Dismissing the class, he then stumbled along an unfamiliar corridor towards the staffroom. Opening the door, he gasped at his surroundings. The featureless, laminated tables and tubular metal chairs had been replaced with comfortable armchairs and oak tables. Robert had dismissed his initial thought that this was an elaborate ruse. Could he be hallucinating or was this a dream? He did not recognise any of the room’s occupants. That was hardly surprising in a large school. With a constant turnaround in supply staff it was difficult to keep abreast of changes.

Break was over too soon, and Robert returned to his classroom. He never enjoyed the first few minutes, the children would push and shove each other out of the way before he calmed them down. Today his eyes widened at the sight of the awaiting class. Dressed in similar attire to the children he encountered before break, they were lined up silently awaiting his arrival. If this was a dream, he appreciated that part.

The period began well enough. The history lesson took on a new vitality. Robert remembered asking everyone to research home life in the forties. These children, at least appeared to have responded positively. Robert scratched his head.

'Where are the girls from this class?'

One young lad fixed him with a strange look.

'Girls, sir. What girls?'

Robert gasped.

'Surely there should be girls.’

Another lad fixed him with a mischievous grin.

'If you want girls, sir, Sid will fix you up. He's got some good chat up lines.'

At that the class broke out in sniggers, causing a flush to creep across Robert’s cheeks. Feeling decidedly out of sorts he fumbled through the rest of the lesson, breathing a huge sigh of relief when the end of the school day was signalled. This, at least saved him from further embarrassment. It struck him as odd that whilst the school in common with most, possessed an electronic buzzer a hand bell was being used to signal the end of the school day.

Matters took an even stranger twist when Robert left the school and took in the vista. Being placed in London's Dockland the school was overlooked by smart apartments. These had once been warehouses, built to service the many wharves that loaded and unloaded at the nearby riverside. Today the apartments had disappeared. In their place stood the jagged remains of Victorian tenement slums. They appeared stark as broken teeth against a burning backdrop. Their gaping innards, exposed to the elements, displayed the most intimate details of their owner's lives. Scrawled on the front wall of a bombed-out house, Robert saw a Victory sign followed by three dots and a dash. Underneath were the words ‘We shall never be defeated’.

Breathless and with a racing heartbeat, Robert was forced to stand stock still. For one always in a rush this was a rare experience. He couldn't remember the last time he stopped to take in his surroundings. Unable to make sense of the situation there was no option. He spied on the distant horizon what appeared to be hundreds of flies swarming towards London from the north. He watched their relentless progress until they were almost overhead. Fascinated Robert stood transfixed as they grew ever larger and noisier. The drone filled Robert's ears until he felt they would burst. Nearing him, he recognised them as Dornier and Heinkel bombers from World War II. He watched as released from their confines, a deadly cargo of bombs plummeted to earth. Clouds of acrid black smoke spiralled skyward. The earth shook as if the hounds of Hell itself had been released. Anti-aircraft guns pummelled the air in a vain effort to halt the onslaught.

The plane's main target was clear. Close to where he stood, the river swept round in a massive U bend forming the Silvertown peninsula. The huge warehouses and factories lining the riverside here, took a heavy pounding. As the buildings collapsed, they sent an immense flood of burning paint, wines and spirits gushing into the Thames. A sheet of flames stretched across the river, blistering the paintwork on the fire launches. Acrid smoke billowed toward him from a rubber factory that was burning fiercely. Particles carried on the polluted air left an acidic, tinny taste on his tongue. The foul smoke made it impossible to breathe, turning everything around him black and yellow. The blast from the exploding bombs lifted Robert off his feet, thrusting him through the air. He felt as if his eyeballs were being pulled out of their sockets. The road buckled giving Robert the impression he was on a roller coaster as it rose and fell. Still the bombs rained down. Robert stumbled around, reeling in shock from the bomb's effect. Time meant nothing to him. Every hour seemed a minute, yet every second was an eternity. At one point, he must have been very near the river. Overhead twisted metal frames reached skywards, like grotesque works of modern art. Large hooks protruded from one or two, like the talons of gigantic birds of prey. Beyond them lay a sheet of flames, emitting tortured screams that could only come from Dante's inferno.

Seeking sanctuary in the ruins of a nearby church he took stock of his situation. There was only one logical explanation. As ridiculous as it sounded, it seemed he had entered a time portal and was trapped in the forties. How was he to survive this nightmare scenario until he could find a way home? With a meeting due that evening he could not afford this delay. If he had arranged to meet the new intake’s parents the following week he would have