Stepping

By Shelby Locke

Imagine sitting down for a drink, minding your own business when a total stranger approaches you.  He tells you, you were responsible for the deaths of many thousands of people because you prevented the Titanic from sinking on her maiden voyage.  Furthermore because of these deaths the future dictates that you may be responsible for mi

• Language: English
• Publisher: Upfront
• Release date: Oct 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9781780351018

Book preview

Part 1: The Meeting

What is time?

Without man on earth time would

not exist; as for the remaining species, there

would be light and dark, life and death.

Chapter 1

~

The Beginning

When I was a kid in the nineteen-sixties, I knew nothing more about history than the 1914–17 World War, the 1938–1950 World War, that England won the 1962 and the 1966 World Cups and that the Titanic sailed into New York, New York in 1912… what more did I need to know?

Did I need to know that my intervention in saving the Titanic from sinking would ultimately change lives!? That I had altered history to such a degree that even my next-door neighbours, the Applegates, would be different from what was originally intended? I was about to be given an opportunity to correct mistakes and put right a wrong I had no idea I was responsible for… this time I was to make sure the Titanic would sink on her maiden voyage as she was predestined to do!!

I really enjoy my Friday evenings; a routine that allows me to unwind and get ready for the weekend ahead and not to have to think about work in the morning. Like clockwork, I would get my drink and order my food, sit by the fire and listen to the lads at the far end of the building playing, rather loudly, a game of cribbage. Occasionally I would focus on the dull sound of the thud as the ‘arrows’ hit the dartboard accompanied by an expletive or the words good shot, and at times listen to the raucous laughter that followed.

Now and again smoke would billow out from the fireplace into the bar area where the smell was, to a degree, pleasant and comforting, mostly because this smell always reminded me that today was Friday.

Strangely and unknowingly, this particular Friday was going to be my last here and within a few weeks, I would be dead to this world! So let me explain how events unfolded for me on that particular day and beyond.

It was on the evening of 6th of April in 1984, whilst I was sipping my well-earned end-of-week lager and enjoying a fine ploughman’s dinner that I had, or thought I had, first met Jack Hope. With my evening already mapped out with a light bite, pint and go out with my girlfriend Tasha, with whom I was to meet later… yes, I was in my element.

Tonight Tasha and I had planned to meet at the Concorde Club where we would listen to jazz, as well as a few songs from a local band who were due to play their version of some rock classics. And who knows, later perhaps, we might even enjoy a smooch on the dance floor!

However, this was not to be!

The door to the Waterloo Arms in Lyndhurst flew open with such a loud bang that all eyes diverted to it and focused on an old man standing within the framework. Immediately his eyes fixed onto mine and he eagerly made his way to my table, making me move uncomfortably away from his rapidly-advancing figure.

I had not at first noticed the rather diminutive but attractive figure he had left in his wake; she was blonde, slight but quite perfect in shape. She walked with elegant demeanour and was aged about twenty to twenty-five; she was also wearing a very bright lipstick which somehow seemed to me to be out of character.

Nor had I noticed what appeared to be a chauffeur laden down with two boxes, clutching them as if they were the crown jewels and keeping them very close to his chest; almost as if his life depended upon it.

The ‘chauffeur’, a huge, bald-headed character, placed the boxes down on an adjacent table, bowed towards the old man and left the premises as if pre-programmed. Unperturbed by what had just taken place behind him, the old man carried on towards me as if possessed, his arms flailing and leaving his younger companion in his wake. As he approached, I noticed that he was smiling in a way one might do when they had finally met a previously-unknown close family relative or a long-lost friend.

His clothes were tailor-made and his immaculate leather shoes had a shine that would reflect one’s face in them should one get that close! His right hand was by now fully extended, but not as if to shake mine but to grab hold of my shoulders, which he did with a force that was unbecoming of his frame and stature. He then used his left hand to squeeze my right arm, much in a way you would depress a piece of fruit whilst testing for freshness. It was almost as if he was proving something to himself about my physical being.

Only then was it that I realised he was repeatedly saying my name… Steven, Steven, Steven!

I’m sorry?, I heard myself saying, without really knowing how the words were forming or even coming from my mouth as I was in so much shock at the sight presented before me.

Ah, of course, he said, his voice calm and very dignified. Of course, although I have rehearsed this in my mind many, many times I seem to have given you an impression of familiarity… He stopped speaking at this point and I could see tears in his eyes welling up from deep within. Forgive me, but you do not know me and I have to explain to you every little detail of our first meeting, although it may be very hard for you to fully understand; that is until you entirely appreciate… er, the whole deal.

I interrupted and repeated, I’m sorry…! before adding, Forgive me, but this does not make sense at all; you have completely lost me. Anyhow, I thought you just said that I do not know you but then implied that we had previously met! What is going on here?

Without batting an eyelid the man continued. Forgive me, forgive me, but I shall try to explain everything and it is in your own interest to listen very carefully for you to fully understand.

Turning back and to his left he said, Oh, how remiss of me, this is my granddaughter Olivia… Olivia, here he is, just as I said he would be.

Bewilderment was making me forget to speak properly but, as if by magic, my arm shot forward towards her and I heard myself mutter something that sounded like hello but was not.

She stepped forward and shook my hand gently; her skin was soft under my own but her grip was firm. She nodded without saying anything and gave me a radiant smile; her lipstick shimmered and her pearl-white teeth sparkled.

I must admit that I was now more intrigued by his granddaughter than by him and was fascinated by her looks… cat-like and lithe… she oozed sex-appeal.

He turned his attention back to me. Olivia is the only one of my family who has ever believed in me and has helped me in my life’s work, which was, ultimately, to come and seek you out, he said somewhat breathlessly.

My brain partly reconnected and for the third time I repeated again, I’m sorry! Look… I added with sincerity, …I am very confused and somewhat perplexed by all of this sudden attention, but do you have the right person? Are you sure you have not made a mistake?

Oh yes, you are definitely the right person! came a quick response, but this time from the lips of Olivia, in a very soft Scottish accent which was quite beguiling. Her green eyes twinkled in the reflection of the fire that I had been sitting next to and now found myself uncomfortably close to.

She finalised her sentence: Born in Southampton on 18th of September 1960… and I have even seen a photograph of you…

Enough, Olivia! came an unwelcoming response from the old man; too much, too soon… he quickly added.

With a softened tone he added: Kindly get some drinks, my dear. She obeyed and went to the bar without a murmur.

He said all of this without taking his eyes off me.

His accent was not Scottish but had an air of Brummie about it, his voice very direct and frank but with a hint of consideration.

He sat beside me, wiped his brow and continued: I am not doing as good a job as I thought I would, considering I have been rehearsing this since late 1919. In my mind, I had it down to a‘T’… It does not always work out as you want it, or indeed as one planned, as you too will soon find out… although I must warn you, some of what you are about to hear will make me sound much like a lunatic. He added the latter more as an afterthought than anything else, but said it with a wry smile.

He turned to the adjoining table and looked at the two boxes, leaned towards them and, whilst tapping them with his finely-manicured nails, said: Let me start with a name; my name to be precise… Jack Hope.

Jack Hope? My response was casual but genuine. Do you mean, as in Jack Hope Industries? The name was as familiar to me as it was to half the western hemisphere.

Yes, one and the same, and you may call me Jack, although I must admit I have you to thank for my…. He faltered. There I go again, not as easy as I thought it would be…. Again he trailed off as Olivia approached the table, carrying a tray with what appeared to be a large brandy and two glasses of water, as well as a pint of lager.

I have ordered some sandwiches and insist that we let Steven eat his dinner before we carry on. She said this with a crooked smile that gave her a look of knowing more of the world than I had first thought. I was truly captivated by her.

With thoughts of Olivia immediately brushed to one side, my politeness was now replaced by sheer frustration and curiosity. My dinner can wait, I’ve lost my appetite anyway… so can you please just tell me what the hell is going on? my tone now impatient.

The freshly-pulled pint of lager was placed in front of me in such a way that made me see it as a token of friendship, a peace offering if you will. I readily accepted this gesture and immediately picked it up, gulping down a third in one go. It was as if I was seeking additional courage to get to grips with the situation.

Okay, okay, said Jack. As I guess you may already know, I am a very, very wealthy man. I have businesses all over the world including here in Lyndhurst, where you are currently working for me as an Administrator. He pondered a while before adding: I may well be wealthy but my wealth comes with a curse… a curse of Machiavellian proportions.

He could see I was about to ask all sorts of questions and raised a hand, saying: Please, let me carry on without interruption because this story is so remarkable that, even now, I am starting to doubt it ever happened. He now continued at a slower pace. I have observed your education and your early career from afar, without wanting to approach you until our pre-determined point of meeting… namely, here today.

I started to open my mouth with what seemed a pertinent question, but was stopped by Jack placing his hand on mine whilst quietly making a shushing sound.

He carried on: I had recently celebrated my eighty-fourth birthday; well, eight months ago to be precise…. He pondered for a moment or two; …time does fly! Anyhow, the celebrations were mixed, mainly due to the fact that I had a visitor from one of my companies… a brilliant scientist, namely, Michael Warring. Unexpected as his visit should have been, I was anticipating his appearance and had arranged for my valet to take him straight to the library upon his arrival.

My face must have been a picture of curiosity, frustration and bewilderment, because he paused and said: Okay… I will allow you to ask two questions before I continue adding: That is, providing you promise to open your mind and allow me to carry on with what will be a true voyage of discovery for us all.

My response was quick but fragmented: Right. Are you sure, despite the similarity to the person in the photograph… the photograph that Olivia… sorry, your granddaughter said she had seen… Um, are you sure you have the right person?

Yes, was the swift and emphatic reply which, frustratingly, came without any other input.

I was thrown by his response and needed time to think about what was happening, and thought that some fresh air may help. Excuse me, I said, I am going to the loo, but reserve the right to ask my second question when I get back.

The toilets were outside and at the other end of the building. I found the short walk in the open air only unlocked my mind to further questions.

This whole situation seemed absurd and my initial thought was to walk around to the front of the pub and get into my car and drive off. Indeed, somebody with a stronger disposition may well have been able to brush their attentions to one side and left already; but there was something holding me back. After all, they do seem to be genuine people coupled with some intimate knowledge of me.

Then another thought occurred to me; perhaps it is a joke conjured up by some of my friends… except even they would not go this far.

Questions, questions… I suddenly realised that my first question had ‘slipped out’ and was completely wasted, so I needed to make the next question count! What to ask? What do these people ultimately want from me? These were some of the thoughts that just kept going around in my mind as I washed my hands and stared into the mirror before me. Before drying my hands, I ran them through my ruffled, dark hair, giving me a look of Paul Newman on a particularly bad day.

Thinking about the situation it was obvious that the question I should be asking was: what was in the boxes? After all, I am sure they did not carry them around for fun, so they must have some connection with this mystery! I am also sure that when they revealed whatever was inside the boxes then one question would not be enough either. Anyhow, unconsciously my real reason for staying on and listening to the rest of the story had more to do with Olivia than curiosity.

No, I think I will save my second question, was the conclusion I came to and it felt good to have some sort of control over the situation, no matter how little.

I came back into the warmth, ignoring the card players who all said Hi Steve in unison as I passed their table. I ignored them as my mind was elsewhere.

On arriving back at the table I saw that another two boxes and a large, red book had mysteriously appeared. They were placed on the table with the others, mainly due to the lack of space on mine which now had two plates of sandwiches upon it.

Jack and Olivia were huddled together in what looked like a very serious debate; however, on seeing me approach they both turned my way and smiled.

Jack said: Steven, you are looking remarkably well and I am so very, very pleased to be here with you at last. He added immediately: Do you have your second question ready?

Resigned, I slumped into my chair. Um, no, that can wait until I know more about… what was it you said? Ah yes… the ‘whole deal’

Yes, indeed, the whole deal. Yes, yes, of course, Jack said warmly.

Jack continued in telling me that Warring had been working on a project involving some form of fusion, as well as the development of portable lasers for the military. As a by-product of these combined experiments, he had discovered that some physical matter had moved in time whilst they were experimenting in the changing of the frequencies they were using to modulate something or other.

Although Jack clearly understood everything he was telling me, he did not take into account that he was talking to somebody who did not understand how a stapler worked! Instinctively I nodded where I thought I had to, and put in an occasional shrug when I thought that was relevant or necessary too.

His tone softened with his voice. The bottom line is we have discovered how to send matter through the space-time continuum and into the past; not the future, mind you, just the past! He paused and contemplated for a moment. Although I must admit, if things did go into the future… then how would we know? He frowned at the thought of this quandary.

My attention was immediately seized on the thought of time-travel and I was about to ask a trivial question when I remembered I did not want to waste another. This would later seem irrelevant because by the end of the story I would be sitting in stunned awe.

Yes, Warring had placed an object, in the very first instance a driving licence, onto the test plate and it rapidly disappeared, as if by magic! They initially thought they had vaporised it! Strangely though, the licence was found by one of his colleagues two days earlier in exactly the same spot from where it had disappeared. He had forgotten to say anything about his find and still had it in his wallet.

Jack paused to sip some water before continuing. Excitedly, his associate then produced the licence from his wallet, stating that the only reason he could have found it when he did is if it had travelled back in time! Being scientists they started to question the logistics of the licence being in two places at once, but soon realised that it was not. In fact what they concluded was that the object was, at one point, in two separate time-frames, not two separate places!

I found myself sitting bolt upright at this revelation and was trying to imagine what other explanations there were for this event, but could not find one. I took another mouthful of lager and swallowed with a gulp, giving off an unusual sound and making Olivia titter. Jack raised his hand in a similar way we did when we played American Indians as kids saying HOW which, in this instance, stopped any further development of frivolity.

Carrying on as if nothing had happened he said: Most of Warring’s colleagues were jumping up and down in ecstasy with what they had just discovered. The others in the room, who had not been party to the experiment, thought they had just gone completely mad. The fact is this little experiment, although unexpected, did open the doorway to a bigger programme of events. They would eventually have a huge effect on the world never to be underestimated, and thus result in one of the greatest impacts on human life as we know it!

Jack added: Warring had named this unusual event ‘Stepping’, and subsequently reduced his team to only those who were initially involved. To date, only sixteen souls have knowledge of what took place on that day, and now this includes you.

Immediately, and unbecomingly, I blurted out: Where do I exactly fit into all of this?, my reaction akin to a nervous tic, which caught even me by surprise.

Jack half-smiled, half-laughed and just said: Two, with a smile making him look like a little schoolboy who had just won at marbles, or a person with a full house in poker but who did not have the sense to hide the fact.

With a defeated look on my face I realised that, by asking a second question, it was time for me to try to reset the balance and change the rules in my favour.

Instinctively I looked at my watch, which was showing twenty past eight, well beyond my usual leaving time. Shit, I said loudly and immediately apologised after seeing the look of surprise on the faces in front of me as well of those in the bar area.

I mumbled another apology before adding sheepishly: I’m supposed to be meeting Tasha at nine; she’s going to kill me if I’m late for another date.

It’s all right; Clive has already contacted her and told her that you are involved in an important meeting which will take you away from home for a while. And to smooth things over, a present of a gold bracelet has been given in your name to show how sorry you are.

Clive? How, what, who, um how? was all I could say, as I was completely confused about how the hell they knew about Tasha and where to contact her…

With a renewed air of defeat I knew there was nothing left for me to do but listen to the rest of the story. I could see this was the only way I would get answers… gone was my attempt at changing the rules.

Jack went on to explain that Warring’s experiments became extensive and the items they were initially transporting back in time were getting larger and further back in time. This did explain some odd goings on in the lab where several months earlier items had been found in ridiculous places and in very strange circumstances. On one occasion the remnants of a secret file were found in a fish tank next to the reception desk. Coincidentally, the fish tank was in exact proximity to the lab’s test plate but several floors down. Fortunately the handwritten file was so badly damaged by water that it was impossible to read the contents and therefore impossible to trace back to the lab.

The management thought pranksters or saboteurs had accessed the site and were trying to disrupt or delay work; however, they could not understand how they were getting past Security. In the end, a memo was circulated to all members of staff informing them of very serious consequences if the occurrences continued… which they did!

So concerned, the management even installed extra security cameras to capture the offenders, but all this did was confuse the situation even more. During all of the incidents the cameras would temporarily blank out and the offending item would already be in place by the time the cameras came back on line. Even one member of the security staff was suspected and suspended from duty until the truth was later discovered.

Jack added: The site in question is Beehive Breech, based in Birmingham, where you are due to visit on Tuesday of next week as part of your duties.

Indeed, the firm I work for, Porter, Factor & Breech, was part of the same group of companies as Beehive Breech and specialised in business efficiency. It was also true that they had reported they were having problems with staffing and trouble with security, which tied in with Jack’s story.

It surprised me to learn that Jack owned both companies and that the problems I had previously been told about at the site were directly to do with Michael Warring, a name I had not been privileged to know until tonight. This scheduled appointment had been in my diary for the last six weeks and would have, thankfully, taken me out of the office for several days.

My first point of contact there was to be with a Miss Tanya Jennings, who was to meet me at the main reception area, where I was due to have my photograph taken for security reasons. This was as much information as I was privy to at the time; however, this was not at all unusual as in my line of work most of my research into events and staffing procedures took place on site.

Jack now looked stern. This is an appointment that you WILL keep and it is imperative that you do NOT mention your prior knowledge of these events or anything else you have heard here tonight. Indeed, it is VITAL that you remain silent on all of these and future matters. Jack said this firmly as he emphasised several words.

It was whilst Jack was forcefully stressing these points that my eyes glanced over his shoulder and towards the boxes on the adjacent table. All the boxes, in plain white cardboard, were equal in size and marked with the initials J.H.I (BB), but individually stencilled T1 through to T4.

Jack manoeuvred his way between the boxes and my line of vision and shielded the boxes with his body, saying: We shall get to those in due course, but for now I shall continue. These events happened in February and normally I was always told of unusual occurrences immediately. However, Warring had kept this under wraps, despite protocol, until he was certain he could control the situation.

His eyes looked maniacal as he further explained: He did not want to inform me until he had some firm and substantial data on the events that had occurred in the lab. He chose my birthday to reveal his secrets. Of course, I knew of his covert tests and when to expect him to announce them because, Steven my friend, you had warned me of them in 1917 or, more precisely, in 1919 when I received your journal! A journal you kept from the time…. He stopped speaking and frowned before saying: No, no, I had better not go down that road yet! I shall bring that up later with more detail due to its importance to your future quest.

Overwhelmed by the disclosure, I slumped back into my chair and stared at the man in front of me, not knowing what to say or think… My initial thought was that, if there was a time in life for me to take up hard drinking, now was that time!

Jack did not let up and bombarded me with more astounding facts. This meeting is the first link in a chain of events between what is going to happen and what has already happened.

With a frown he added rather accusingly: I need you to fully understand and act upon what I have to say because you have already caused a great deal of damage without realising what you were doing. His face was deathly serious and his blue-grey eyes bored into mine, making them water and itch.

Olivia gently touched him on his shoulder, which was like a signal for him to lighten his demeanour and bring back the familiar smile that I had just gotten used to.

There then appeared to be an unusual, tense silence, which seemed to go beyond the immediate circle of people. This impasse was my imagination as it drifted off into a haze. Soon I became aware of the sound of breaking glass which was soon followed by jeers and laughter in the background.

Jack ignored the sounds and looked toward the ceiling, seemingly reminiscing: It was just as I was about to start training to become a doctor in Birmingham, quite close to the village of Romsley where I was born. Due to the war I left my training and joined the army as a stretcher-bearer instead; yes, it was just as the war was coming to an end when I first met you… it was 1917… to be exact it was August 19th 1917 at Passchendaele.

I was now thinking in a negative manner and thought to myself, here he goes again… and felt what I was about to say was obvious and needed to be said. But I was born in September 1960; how the hell would I have been in…?

He focused back on me. No more questions… although I realise the need to ask, he said, once again raising his hand in, I guess, a gesture he used a lot. It seemed to work, certainly on me, because once again I immediately fell silent!

Frowning, he again struggled to speak. Certain aspects of this story are very painful for me to relate. I need my composure, therefore I must continue without interruptions, but I will stress that it was you who invited me here today to meet you!

My thoughts were racing as actively as they had ever done before. It seemed logical for me to be allowed to ask certain questions, but I remained silent.

Where was I? Ah, yes… anyhow, Passchendaele in 1917 would not be a place somebody would choose for a first meeting and this is where the story really starts…, he said in a whisper, before pausing to take a sip of the brandy that had been sitting on the table and which must have been extremely warm by now.

All this time Olivia was delicately taking small bites out of a plateful of sandwiches and sipping her water, whilst my enthusiasm for food and drink had completely evaporated.

Uhhum, Jack cleared his throat to continue; I think this is going to be more difficult for both of us than anything else I say from now on… I was witness to some appalling sights; most still haunt me to this day… BUT, he emphasized, When I went into ‘no-man’s-land’ to help a wounded soldier who had just been caught up in a murderous and confused crossfire I did so with the usual trepidation. However, I was not to know that this meeting was going to change my life forever! He paused briefly. I found myself in a shell-hole with a mortally-wounded Lance-Corporal Steven Grainger… namely you, my friend!

He now struggled to keep his composure and Olivia, who seemed to have been expecting his reaction, nursed his arm with a caress whilst I put my hand forward but did not make contact.

Strangely, my response to hearing this was unexpected and remarkably calm, considering the information I had just been given!

I contemplated that perhaps the person he was referring to was a distant relative of mine. Maybe Jack’s extensive trauma had conditioned him to believe what he was telling me or, perhaps, he did have a long-term mental problem. However, this did not explain Olivia’s role in all of this, so I partly accepted what he was telling me as being true and was resolved to hearing the rest of what he was about to say. Either way, no matter how I looked at it, it did not explain his knowledge of Tasha, or how he came to be here today.

He now stared at me intently. It was while I was tending your wounds that you started talking about the future and other things that did not make sense to me.

Ironic, I thought, Jack appeared to be suggesting that he had experienced what I am going through right now, but in a reverse timescale.

Jack continued: I put some of what you were saying down to delirium through pain, but listened about your life in the 1960s and on, and then back to 1912 when you came back in time. Perhaps it was harder for me to grasp what was going on because today there seems to be more evidence and science available to the general populace than there was then…, you know, science-fiction and all that.

The latter part of what he had just said made some sense and allowed me to think more openly about what I was now being told.

Anyhow… your exact words to me were, he unintentionally mimicked a feeble voice, try and remember these words, ‘Life is what you make it, but only if you are not unduly influenced by others’; you repeated that to me several times.

His frown had now gone and was replaced by a look of serenity. Just before you died…; he choked a little, you made me promise to seek out your lady friend in Southampton and to read a journal which was unknowingly in her possession. Without really knowing if I was going to survive the war or not, I agreed. Your final gesture was to undo the top left-breast pocket on your tunic, from where I retrieved a bloodstained letter addressed to Miss Marjorie Williams, 2, Rockstone Lane, in Bevois Valley. I placed the letter into my haversack and by the time I looked up again your eyes were glassy; I knew you were… you had gone.

Jack took a handkerchief from his inside top pocket and wiped his eyes before taking a large swig of brandy, leaving just a mere drop at the bottom. Olivia gracefully stood up and went to the bar with Jack’s glass and asked for a refill.

He gently patted my knee. Please forgive me... I found that extremely difficult but I am glad it is out of the way. Perhaps I will find it a little easier from here on.

Again he felt the need to clear his throat. Uhhum, I spent the next four hours with your body, because I was waiting for the sun to drop before I moved back to my original position. I could still hear the occasional scream and moaning as the machine-gun fire was greater than anticipated and was more accurate than usual. I stayed there, thinking about you and your letter; and, not unlike what you are doing tonight, I tried to make sense of it all!

Jack took a fresh sip of brandy. It was not unusual for the enemy to fire at anything that moved and they usually did not wait to see if you were a Red Cross-wearer or not… Bloody war! Even after dark it was difficult to get back to my lines, as it was inevitable that one lost one’s bearings through the lack of physical land features. Nevertheless, get back I did, and carry out your wishes too, although it was not until 1919, April 16th to be more accurate. This is when I met ‘your’ Marjorie and learned the whole truth.

I thought Jack was putting his hand back into his pocket to get out his handkerchief again but I was mistaken. This time he brought out a yellowish-brown-stained envelope, which he slowly passed over to me.

The faded contents were quite fragile and had, at some time, been taped along a crease that had obviously come apart due to over-use. I took it from his trembling hand in anticipation, knowing exactly what it was, and without looking up I started to slowly reveal its contents.

"To my dearest darling Marge, if you are reading this then you know beyond a shadow of doubt that I shall not be coming back. Please do not cry and please do not remain alone because I know there will be a time in the future when you will be happy again, as you rightly deserve to be. Be brave! You always knew this day would come so I hope you will stay strong and not show yourself as being otherwise.

"I have left you a bag and a large thick red bound book with some letters attached to it in the coalscuttle behind the old butter churn in the shed. The contents of the bag are yours to buy some land or property but give the letters and the book to the man who presented you with this note. The money, if invested right, will see you through your life but remember, do not be bullied or told by anybody what to do with it; it is yours and yours alone.

I love you now as much as ever and shall be looking over you throughout.

Yours, forever and a day, Steven xxx."

Shockingly, the writing was unmistakably mine, but I was not sure if the words represented what I would have written under normal circumstances; I looked at Jack, who by now had composed himself into more of the man I had seen earlier, and said, If you gave this letter to Marjorie, then how come you have it now?

Jack merely nodded and told me that he had kept in touch with Marjorie, right up until her death in 1972 at the tender age of eighty-one. Not long before she died, Jack tried to explain to her the story. It was then she gave the letter back to him, as well as several photographs, one of which Olivia had previously mentioned.

You see, she was twenty-seven when I gave her the letter and she heeded your advice. So much so that in her will she left a substantial fortune and, believe it or not, that considerable fortune has been left in trust for me to give to you!

I looked at him in total disbelief and was not sure I could trust what I was hearing… do not get me wrong, it was not the windfall that I was trying to assess. It was the age of the woman that I had supposedly been involved with.

Then it hit me about the legacy, as I openly said: Eighty-one… a substantial fortune, not knowing what else to add.

This seemed to touch a funny-bone in Jack because for the first time I heard him laugh, perhaps more as an expression of relief at getting some of the story off his chest than anything else.

I was intrigued; Tell me more about this Marjorie and her life, I said, before Jack had time to stop laughing.

He again composed himself and said: I think we should vacate ourselves from here and go back to our hotel before we get thrown out.

I looked at my watch and thought: what the hell, it is almost eleven o’clock, before adding: Tasha will never forgive me for this one no matter how many bracelets, watches or necklaces she gets; we were supposed to be going to the Concorde tonight… anyway, what do you mean, back to ‘our’ hotel?

Olivia answered this one and seemed to have been itching to say something for some while, but did not until now: The Crown is just a short walk, up the road and around the corner.

I know where the Crown is! I said, sounding rude but not meaning to.

I looked around to see that all the locals, including old Reggie who was in here every evening and was normally the last to leave, had gone. The publican, Sid, looked rather disappointingly at my near-full plate of food, a pile of sandwiches and a half-full glass of lager.

Ignoring his looks, I said: My car is outside; I can drive us, although I know you have a car because you’ve got a chauffeur. I felt as if I was rambling and considered the need to say more but, happily, could not think what else to add.

No, that will not be necessary; in any case your car is already at the hotel and Clive has, by now, already gone back to his ‘lodgings’. Anyhow the one-way system is inhibitive and the walk will do us good; clear our minds, so to speak.

Getting up, I looked at Sid and said ’bye. He begrudgingly nodded, but beamed from ear to ear when Olivia thrust a twenty-pound note into his hand and thanked him for being so patient.

That walk will take a little bit longer with the weight of carrying those boxes, I said, looking down at the table. Jack looked at them and grimaced. I thought we would get through a lot more than we did tonight. Never mind, the boxes are never very far away from me, even when I go abroad.

Olivia lifted up the box marked T2 and showed no signs of struggling as Jack picked up T1 and the large book before making a head gesture towards the remaining two, which I picked up. I found they were much lighter than I had imagined and not at all what I was expecting. Surreptitiously, I shook them, but this did not reveal anything more sinister than the likelihood that they were filled with files or sheets of paper.

True enough, my VW Passat estate was absent from its usual parking spot out in the road, and a car-sized dry patch was all that was left in its place. So there it was; even if I wanted to leave now I would find it hard to without any form of transport to hand. Jack had certainly thought this through. I was not even going to ask how Clive had managed to get the keys to it.

Although a clear night it had rained earlier, just a light shower, but enough to make some areas en route slightly greasy, so we had to tread carefully.

It was about the halfway stage on this journey when I suddenly stopped and said: Bloody hell, I’m rich. Closely followed by Bloody hell, I’m going to die.

Olivia, who was leading the party, stopped in response to my remarks. She turned back towards me and somehow managed to manoeuvre her box under her left arm, and slipped her now free arm through mine. This act of familiarity immediately brought me back to reality.

Standing next to me she seemed so tiny; her head was just below my shoulder, but what struck me more was the beautiful aroma that she was emitting. This was the first time I realised I felt a strong physical attraction towards her. Her softness, her brightness, her mannerisms were so different from those of Tasha’s. I liked this; I liked this a lot!

Another distraction I thought, just what I needed… but one that I could endure!

Chapter 2

~

Little Boxes

The Crown was a place I had often frequented with work colleagues for the odd lunch meeting. A large Tudor-style building with its own distinctive but pleasant odour and, coming in from the walk, I felt my sense of smell had been heightened by it. For the first time since patronising here I fully appreciated what was before me. I could smell the smoke coming from a recently stoked fire; it was a recognisable and welcoming smell, and not unlike the one I had been enveloped in earlier. It was as if I could see the flames and hear the crackle even before we got into the room; everything seemed so inviting… not least the company.

The night porter greeted Jack and ushered us toward a large door in an area of the hotel I had not previously been in.

Jack opened the door into a cavernous lounge just as a warm blanket of air rushed out, which gave me a subtle, lightheaded feeling. Although not wholly familiar to me, the area was similar to other reception rooms in the Hotel and almost a mirror image of another room I had previously used. The room was in semi-darkness, which I thought added to the atmosphere and mystique. There was plenty of space to place the boxes down, as the table in the centre appeared to be arranged with the three of us in mind.

Although I loved the natural ease and friendly ambience of the pub, this was much cosier, more elegant, and so much more private.

We walked over to a predetermined area nearer the fire, where four large armchairs were set in a semicircle. A knee-height table had been centred in the arc of chairs and was slightly nearer to the fireplace. Jack moved the table away from the fire and closer to the edge of this arrangement.

Olivia sat in the middle, leaving Jack and I facing each other. He looked younger in this light; his hair was generally white but the flickering glow of the fire had given it an orangey-reddish tint, which seemed to dance all over his head.

He placed the large book on the chair next to him and we placed the boxes on the table.

The night porter came in with a 1929 bottle of Vaghi Baron de Sigognac, along with two brandy glasses, a jug of water and a half of lager. I had not expected this intrusion, but it seemed to be prearranged and in keeping with the rest of the evening.

Olivia rose from her chair, tipped the porter and followed him to the door, shutting it firmly behind him before returning to the comfort of her seat. She gave me a smile.

Jack poured the brandy into a glass, picked it up a swilled it around several times, just as Olivia surprised me by picking up the lager. She took a sip, which left a frothy trace on her upper lip, which she dabbed with a tissue. Jack further surprised me by leaning forward, arm outstretched, and handing me the glass. I instinctively put my hand up to refuse, but felt compelled and took the glass instead.

Sip it slowly, he said, you will appreciate its texture and flavour as well as the warmth it will bring you.

Having never tasted a fine wine brandy before, I was anxious to please but also afraid of exposing my ignorance of anything other than lager. I sipped it and was immediately struck by its dryness, as it felt like it would evaporate in my mouth. This was instantaneously replaced by a taste I had never experienced before and cannot think of a flavour to replicate it. By the time I came to swallow the liquid it had, it seemed, expanded from a sip into a mouthful; I was pleased and complimented Jack on this newfound experience.

I could get used to this, I said, whilst holding the glass upward towards the pale light. I was mesmerised as I watched the colours bounce around the glass like a mix of ambers from many different varieties of honey.

Without taking my eyes off the glass, I heard Jack whisper: The grapes Armagnac, cradled in oak and matured for maximum taste. Apricot, peach and orange flavours suffused to make this what it is, an exquisite first-time experience. Steven, I envy you this moment, because there is nothing on earth like the very first taste of a fine brandy, especially one such as this!

Thank you for allowing me the experience, I said, meaning every word, although I could not say I recognised any of the flavours Jack had just mentioned. By now I was experiencing a warm afterglow, which I could feel expanding throughout my chest and into my stomach. This must have been the feeling Jack referred to and was well worth waiting for!

Jack seemed to want to talk about his favourite tipple, so I started to relax. I sank back into my comfortable seat, ready to hear about his apparent expertise in this field, which was far better than hearing more of my supposed fate.

Did you know that there are four varieties of grape commonly used to produce this brand? He named them: Bacco, Ugni Blanc, Folle Blanche and Colombard, before adding: the date on a bottle of wine refers to the date the grapes were harvested, not when it was bottled… did you know that?

I did not get a chance to answer the question, as things moved on quite quickly when Jack wanted them to, certainly not when I was ready.

It was just as if Jack had just been shaken by some invisible force, as he stopped abruptly and said: Anyhow, enough of that, let’s get on.

This unexpected but subtle diversion had come as a pleasant intermission for me, and to have it snatched away so brusquely was a little cruel. Although I wanted to hear more about Warring and his experiments, as well as my unwitting role in all this, I was, quite bluntly, scared. Scared of what… I was not quite sure yet!

Realising we were back in reality, I thought I would test to see if the ‘no questions’ option was still in force and asked: Please Jack; I need to know more of my… um, my fate, and how I became involved in all this.

Yes, he said, You do deserve to know the answers, but remember my warning when we first met, um, today. You must not talk about this to anyone… it does not matter who!

He went on with the story. "According to the journal it will be in one week’s time, on Thursday the 12th, as you were travelling on a coach back from Birmingham when, for some still-unexplained reason, you vanished without a trace and were never heard of again. All that will be left of your presence on the coach is