Time Piece

By Robert Anthony Addis

When Phil is strangely drawn to an old watch in a Beijing curio shop, he little realises that his whole life is about to change. With the help of the watch he travels back in time to take part in momentous episodes in the history of the 20th Century.

Interwoven with his time travels adventures are the events shaping his life in the present day, back in his ancestral home in Scotland and in his lively bachelor existence in London.

Phil is sometimes in command of the magical watch, and sometimes the watch dictates where he must go, especially when he is needed to save the life of a shot-down pilot whose identity rocks Phil to his core when he realises just who it is he has saved.

Phil is a beguiling and very likeable mixture of the classic innocent abroad, accomplished seducer, and brave warrior. He throws himself whole-heartedly into the action, whether it is getting the girl, or escaping from the enemy, and he takes the reader with him every step of the way.

Time Piece is an exciting, fast paced page-turner, which takes the reader on a rollercoaster ride from Inverness to Woodstock, from Alaska to Vietnam, with many other ports of call in between. And from peace and love in a muddy field in up-state New York, to the hell that is war, the reader is given an amazing close-up view of the action.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Jun 11, 2015
• ISBN: 9781490759234

Robert Anthony Addis

Robert Addis was born and educated in Edinburgh. He has a son, daughter and 4 grandchildren. Severe Dyslexia marred his education in his formative years. In his later years and following a life threatening illness he has written this his first novel. A cottage by the sea on the west coast of Scotland is now his home.

Book preview

© Copyright 2015 Robert Anthony Addis.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

ISBN: 978-1-4907-5921-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4907-5922-7 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4907-5923-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015906820

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Trafford rev. 06/09/2015

22970.png www.trafford.com

North America & international

toll-free: 1 888 232 4444 (USA & Canada)

fax: [phone]

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

China

Chapter Three

Woodstock, America

Chapter Four

Home Again

Chapter Five

Spain

Chapter Six

Harvest Time

Chapter Seven

Rick’s Place

Chapter Eight

France, 1944

Chapter Nine

Back to a Surprise

Chapter Ten

New Job

Chapter Eleven

Sierra Leone

Chapter Twelve

Back in London

Chapter Thirteen

Alaska

Chapter Fourteen

The Murder Trial

Chapter Fifteen

Vietnam

Chapter Sixteen

Back Home to London

Chapter One

Phillip had been through the whole education system: primary school, secondary school, Sixth Form College, and now King’s College, University of London. He had just finished his final exam in his law degree and was now sitting, waiting to leave university forever.

He was sure he had aced his finals and that he would come out with a 2:1 at least, perhaps a first. As he already had a degree in Scottish law, a pass in these exams would mean he could practise in courts in Northern Ireland and Wales as well as both English and Scottish courts.

He looked around at his fellow students, who were still writing. He hadn’t really got on with the majority of them. He had very little in common with them, with their college scarves and V-neck sweaters and sensible shoes. He looked down at his bomber jacket lying on the floor, his faded jeans, and on-trend trainers. Phil wasn’t your ordinary guy, maybe not quite your ordinary lawyer to be, with his shoulder-length curly hair and T-shirt.

The clock on the wall facing him was now ticking down to the end of the allocated exam time, and the exam invigilator was also checking it against his watch. Then disturbing the silence in the room, he boomed: That’s it, ladies and gentlemen. Time up. Please stop writing and put your pens down.

That was it. That was the end of university. Phillip wouldn’t be coming back. He picked up his bomber jacket off the floor and made his way to the door, stopping on the way to talk to the invigilator and shake his hand.

Once outside, he gave a large sigh of relief. He was standing there, looking up at the university, when a gust of warm wind blew his hair all over his face, bringing him swiftly back to reality. Putting the books under his left arm and sliding his right finger through the loop in the back inside collar of his bomber jacket, and throwing it over his shoulder; he started to walk out of the university for the last time, turning right along the busy street on his way home.

"Home. Well, home is in Inverness in Scotland", Phil thought, as he strolled along the street looking at the shops and everything that was going on in the street. An advertisement caught his eye in the travel agent’s window.

The Forbidden City, Beijing it stated intriguingly. Phil stood reading the poster on the window and digesting the information.

The Forbidden City situated in the very heart of Beijing was home to 24 emperors of the Ming 1368–1644 and Qing 1644–1911 Dynasties.

He was drawn in by the mystery of it.

"Fuck it", thought Phil. "I’ll go there. It’s not much and it’s for two weeks all inclusive, and I deserve time off. He peered through a gap in the window which wasn’t covered in posters advertising different holidays, to see whether it was busy or not. Looks OK", he thought. He opened the door and went in. He stood on the red carpet, holding his jacket and books down in front of him, waiting his turn as he looked at the four girls in their blue uniforms sitting behind their desks, talking to their prospective customers.

Some of the girls were just wearing their white blouses with their jackets slung over the back of their chairs, and they were the ones Phil was concentrating on. Straining to see if he could get a slight glimpse of a frilly bra through their white blouses, but all he could see was the shape of the girls’ breasts trying to push their way through the white blouses that were keeping them captive.

Phil took them in turn, looking at each girl and asking himself which one was the best looking. Before he could make up his mind, a couple in front of him got up and moved away, leaving the girl tidying up her desk and doing something to the computer; then she looked up at Phil and smiled, asking politely if she could help him.

Yes, said Phil, pulling out the chair and sitting down before leaning over to put his books and jacket on the floor beside him. He told her that he wanted to go to the Forbidden City in Beijing, the holiday on that poster, as he turned and pointed to the one on the window. He turned back to face the blonde haired girl behind her desk. She turned to her computer and started to press the keys, but he couldn’t see what she was doing or what was coming up on her screen; he just had to wait, but he filled his time by looking at the girl’s breasts and the outline of her bra.

Just a plain white bra, no lace, boring. His attention was brought back when the girl spoke again. What date were you planning on? she asked.

Phil told her and asked if he could fly out of Glasgow Airport. He waited to hear what she was going to say, as she checked her computer again; she looked back at Phil and said that it would cost more to fly out from Scotland.

That’s OK, Phil assured her. Would you do one more thing for me please? The girl smiled, waiting for Phil to say what he was going to say. Could you book me a flight to Inverness this weekend? Phil handed her his credit card and waited again for the transaction to go through. Once complete, he thanked her and began picking up his things from the floor, as the girl wished him a nice holiday and held out her hand with his credit card.

On leaving the travel agents, Phil stood outside and slung his jacket over his shoulder once again, nearly hitting a passer-by with it. He smiled and apologised to the person as he fixed his jacket, put the books back under his arm, and began to walk along the street, grinning to himself for booking the holiday to China.

That was Phil all over – spontaneous. He did things without much thought and sometimes found himself in rather nasty dilemmas – always because he hadn’t thought it through first. He walked along the street with a big grin on his face as he always did when he was pleased with himself.

He stopped and stood at the edge of the curb, waiting to cross to the coffee shop that he always called into on his way home, when he spotted a young girl struggling to hold her short summer dress down. The dress was getting blown about in the warm summer wind, and as she held the front down the back would get caught and be lifted up more than she would have liked, showing off a good top part of her thigh and revealing to Phil and other people a pair of yellow knickers covering a nice round bum. As she pulled the back down, the wind caught the front, resulting in the same lifting and causing her to walk in the most awkward way, in a sort of crouching, walking position with her bag slung over her shoulder.

Phil just stood there, taking in the delightful scene as the wind teased this young girl along the street, who was struggling to get to where she was going. He stood longer than necessary, just looking and thinking to himself: She won’t wear that dress in the wind again, as she turned the corner and disappeared out of sight, much to his disappointment.

He got his coffee, having some difficulty in drinking it with his jacket slung over his shoulder and the books under his arm, but he struggled away, sipping at it as he made his way home.

While he was down here in London he was sharing a flat with six other students – a large town house that had been altered to accommodate students. All the rooms were bedsits and Phil’s, and a few of the others that he had seen, was very basic – a fridge, a round table in the middle of the room with hardly any varnish left on it, three chairs in the same state around it, a bed with two bedside tables (varnish also peeling off), in fact, there was no varnish on anything really, and a large armchair opposite a TV with a blanket thrown over it to hide the berry burns from the joints that had been smoked by the last tenant, or was it the one before him … ? Phil didn’t smoke joints; he preferred to smoke his cannabis in a pipe, but saying that, if he was offered some cannabis in a rolled-up form he wouldn’t say no to it.

Leading off the hallway were stairs going up to more rooms and stone steps leading down to the basement where you had a small bathroom with a bath and washbasin, another small room with a toilet and shower, and a large kitchen that everyone used. The back door through the kitchen led out into a damp passageway that opened out in a communal garden.

Phil’s phone rang in his pocket as he walked home along the bustling street. "Just to make things even more difficult, another thing to try and hold", he thought as he looked around for a place to put his books, jacket, and his coffee down. Still on the street and struggling to get to a shop window ledge through the crowds, he managed to answer it before it rang off: Hello … hello? Oh hi, Mum, yes, I did, no, yes, I’ll be coming home this weekend, yes, y-e-s, and how’s Dad, Mum? OK, must go, see you this weekend, stuttered Phil, putting the phone back in his pocket, and lifting all his belongings back up again, he continued his walk to the flat.

Phil phoned home before boarding his plane at Heathrow because he knew that it would take time to get from London to Inverness, and then the drive to his home. He had got his mum when he phoned and asked her if she could meet him off the plane, but it was the same answer as always.

I don’t know, dear. We are very busy here, and I don’t know if I can spare the time dear. If I really have to, I could go to the Cash and Carry as it is near the airport so the whole day isn’t wasted.

There was never a straight answer like: Yes, dear or No, dear; it had to be Oh well, if I have to.

The plane touched down in Inverness, and as he came through customs he saw his mum standing waiting for him. There were the usual greetings, and before Phil could ask how his dad was, his mum had already marched off ahead.

I must get to Cash and Carry and away home before the rush hour. You know what it’s like, dear.

"Yes, Mum", Phil thought, following her through the terminal, through the glass doors, out into the rain and across into the car park.

Home was Bromley Hall – a large rambling country house with about 20 bedrooms and the usual other rooms that large country houses have. There were about 3,869 acres of park land and sport facilities, shooting on very fine grouse moors, stalking a number of fine stags on a number of hills on the estate, as well as fishing on two well-stocked rivers.

Bromley Hall had the usual stable yard with about twelve loose boxes and a selection of fine horses to suit all riders. In fact, it was a very well-run business and busy all year round with an international clientele. As the men fished or shot, their wives lay about in the heated pool area or played tennis or went horse riding. Dinner was included in the whole package, and the package was in no way cheap. If the ladies didn’t like any of that, they could be pampered at the Bromley Hall spa.

They turned in through the gates of the long driveway up to the house and parked outside the front door. Phil helped his mum unpack the assortment of things that she had got from the Cash and Carry and carried them through to the kitchen where he was warmly welcomed by their old German cook, who embraced him warmly. For all the years that Phil had been a small boy, she had been the family cook; yet she still had her very strong German accent.

Congratulations, I hear you passed your examinations - good boy, she praised and gave him another big hug and a kiss on the cheek. Sit, I give you coffee. Sit, sit, Phil, and tell me all about London and what you got up to.

You really want to know, Helga? Phil laughed as he replied, smilingly cheekily.

Oh, you naughty boy! Helga exclaimed, as she took the kettle off the large cooking range and started to pour water into a mug. Phil stood beside the large wooden table and sipped away at his coffee, telling the cook most, but not all, of the things that he had done recently.

There was a commotion as the back door opened and his father came bursting in with the estate gamekeeper, both carrying partridges in one hand and a shotgun under the other arm. They put their game down on the side table and propped the guns up against the wall.

Phil’s dad came over to him, giving him a big hug and a slap on the back and shaking his shoulders firmly, and the kitchen erupted with everyone talking to everyone else all at once.

At dinner that night came the usual discussion about the estate and how to improve it. Phil quietly awaited his time to ask one of them if they would run him to the airport on Monday. Deep down, he knew that it would be the same as always; he hated to ask them anything because of the fuss.

The opportunity rose and Phil asked the question: Can one of you run me to the airport on Monday? Phil’s mother was, as always, the first to answer: But you have just arrived here, dear. I know, Phil interjected, but I have booked a flight to China.

The room fell quiet.

Where, dear?

China, Mum, Phil said softly.

What on earth are you going there for? His father stared at him.

Dad, I’m just taking some time out, from all the studying that I have been doing for the past God knows how long. I need a break from all of it, Phil explained in a stern voice so that it might get through to them how hard he had been working to get to where he was.

There was another silence around the table, broken only when his father spoke up: Quite right, Phil, take some time off, and where did you say you were going? I’m going to the Forbidden City in Beijing. He started to tell them all about it and what he had read at the travel agent. After Phil had told them everything that he knew about it, his mum was keen to know why he had chosen China.

Putting the glass of wine back down on to the table after taking a drink out of it, he wiped his mouth with the starched white napkin and explained: Just because, he started, I saw a poster in this travel agent’s shop window just before I left London and I booked it there and then, Mum.

Just like you! Doing things without thinking it through first! his mum shot back, accusingly.

Well? Phil said, thinking back to his initial question. Well what, dear? His mother looked at him with questioning eyes.

God! Phil said in exasperation. Phil! Don’t speak like that, his mum chided.

Will one of you p-l-e-a-s-e take me on Monday? Phil asked politely this time.

Yes, yes, I will take you, his father said at last. I’ll need to get to the gunsmith and pick up that gun that I put in a week ago anyway.

Thanks, Dad, said Phil, all the while thinking why they couldn’t just say: Yes, I’ll take you, without saying that they had to do something or go somewhere, just a simple: Yes, I’ll take you, dear.

He took another drink of wine and finished what was in his glass; he put it down and went to reach for the bottle that was perched on the table near his mum, asking before he poured the wine into his own glass whether anyone else would like more.

No, dear, his mum said. I must go and see Helga before she goes to bed. She got up swiftly and left the room.

Dad? Phil gestured the wine towards his father’s glass. No, I’m going to have some brandy and a cigar. Want one?

Phil agreed to the cigar and moved up to sit closer to his father, whilst his dad got up and went to get the brandy decanter from the side table and the box of Havana cigars. Returning to the table with them, his father gave a happy sigh.

Now we can have that chat at long last, laughed his dad, and together they stayed there drinking brandy and smoking till the early hours.

Chapter Two

China

Phil flew with Emirates to Beijing Capital International Airport. The plane made its final approach and touched down smoothly. Phil sat there looking out of the window; the plane slowed down and taxied to the appropriate exit. Phil heard the engines die down, go quiet and stop.

The Captain spoke over the speakers: Thanks for flying with Emirates and I hope you enjoyed your flight. Then all hell broke loose with people getting their things out of the overhead storage lockers. Phil just sat there until most of the people had gone. Then he got up and grabbed his things, making his way to the front of the plane where a flight attendant was waiting to say good bye. Phil smiled and said: Good bye and thanks, and made his way up through the tunnel to the terminals.

Once he had cleared customs he made his way to the airport express subway system and got a ticket; he had been told by the flight attendant that the airport was about thirty two kilometres northeast of Beijing. He was headed for the Crown Plaza International hotel in the Tianzha, Shun Yi District. The subway was modern, clean and so very efficient that it didn’t take long to get to where he was going. The hotel he was staying in was within walking distance from his stop.

It was some place. The hotel looked so grand that Phil caught his breath in his throat.

As he made his way to the glass door it was opened for him by a man in a green uniform with white gloves. Phil smiled and walked through and along the shiny tiled floor towards the lobby desk. He dropped his bag at the lobby desk and stood there waiting for one of the girls in their green uniforms to come, and as he waited he looked around at the large lobby.

The roof of the hotel was completely glass; you could see the night sky through it. It was amazing. The whole glass roof was held up by several steel beams, and dotted about the very modern lobby were large concrete pots with green leafed plants spreading their jagged finger-like leaves out, and the plants reached all the way to the top of the glass roof. There were floodlights at the bottom of each concrete pot shining up through the leaves; showing off the plants and making the whole place look strikingly beautiful. It didn’t take long before one of the Chinese girls came along to where Phil was standing.

Good evening, Sir? she spoke softly.

"Yes" Phil said turning round to face her, I have a reservation in the name of Phillip Howard Johnson.

The girl looked at Phil and then at a large green covered register book. While she was looking through the register Phil took time to study the young Chinese girl, her very long very black hair, had several strands plaited at each side of her head tied back and held in a clasp at the back of her head. Big looped gold earrings dangled down amongst the rest of her hair. Looking back up at Phil she announced: "Yes Mr Howard Johnson, your room number is 6401 on the sixth floor."

She then asked Phil for his passport and if he would sign in, Phil did in that order. Then the girl put her hand up to get the attention of one of the porters who were waiting to take Phil’s bag.

It’s ok. I’ll take it; I have only the one thing thanks. Phil assured her.

She put her hand down and smiled at Phil: Your key, handing Phil a plastic card room key.

Thank you, said Phil and took it.

He bent down to get his bag and made his way to the elevator door and pressed the arrow pointing up on the brass plate. He stood back to look at the indicator above the door to see where the lift was. The numbers lit up each square on the wall above and Phil watched it come down through the numbers. The door opened with a ‘ding’, and Phil waited till the people came out before he entered. Looking at the black and gold panel in the elevator for the floor he wanted, he pressed the white box with the floors’ numbers on it.

Mere seconds later Phil was standing outside the elevator on a thick red pile carpet, in a long corridor with large white marble lamps with long red shades evenly spaced out along the corridor. Phil walked along looking for his number and it wasn’t long before he was standing outside number 6401. Taking the card that the girl gave him, he slid it down between the slot on the brass door lock and the red light on the brass plate went to green. Phil put the card back into his pocket and opened the door to the room.

It was like any hotel room with a large bed with bedside tables at each side with matching lights on them. A phone on one side, a large flat screen TV with remote control, a fridge with beer and small bottles of spirits, snacks to eat and an ice dispenser that Phil thought impressive. All you had to do was just hold your glass under the hole and press the red button below it. Depending on how many times you pressed it, a small cube of ice would drop out and into your glass. At the other side of the room a large long polished wood desk below a gold-framed mirror. A long metal lamp with a red shade at stood to one side, and all the usual writing materials, plus a menu if you wanted room service.

Phil threw his bag down onto the bed and went to check out the bathroom. It was done out in a deep blue and gold colour with the bath and toilet the same, the towels and flannels that were neatly folded on the side were a matching blue with a gold line through them. The soap was sheathed in gold and blue wrappers as well, and by the shower there were small bottles of different things with more soaps in their wrappers, shampoos and conditioners, even a shower cap in small plastic bag. It was very well equipped and on the back of the bathroom door were two bathrobes in blue with gold borders as well.

Phil thought that he might have a bath. He lent down to turn on the water. There was a gold knob in the middle of the gold taps that you pressed down to stop the water from running out of the bath. Once he had done that, he turned and went to get the remote and pointed it at the TV, pressing the red button. The plasma TV sprung into life in Chinese. Phil flicked through the thousands of channels to find an English-speaking one. He got CNN news channel. Phil thought: "Ok it’s American" and leaving it on he threw the remote onto the bed and went to check his bath.

That night Phil went for a walk and had something to eat in the hotel restaurant. There were three restaurants; a formal one, then a twenty-four hour one where you could get all your quick food stuff, and the one Phil was in, the Chinese room serving Chinese food and done out with traditional decor. After he had eaten he returned to his room to have an early night.

Next morning after his Continental breakfast Phil made his way out of the hotel and onto the subway system again, after purchasing a ticket for the Forbidden City. Entering through the gate of Tiananmen, the Gate of Heavenly Peace, Phil walked across the expansive brick paved square taking in everything as he walked towards the Meridian gate (Wumen in Chinese).

Phil was quite good in picking up words in different languages and he thought it was polite to speak a few words in the languages of the country that you were visiting. He stood in the middle of the square letting hundreds of people pass him by in all directions all looking at the amazing palace. He read more about the palace in his guide book:

The Forbidden City was the Chinese imperial palace from Ming Dynasty to the end of the Qing Dynasty. Phil quickly read on about the palace, missing out bits. The book continued:

"The Forbidden City is located in the middle of Beijing and now houses the palace museum. For almost 500 years it has served as a home to Emperors and their households, as well as a ceremonial and political centre for the Chinese government."

Phil skipped the rest about the palace and put the guide book back into his pocket, walking across the vast paved square trying to avoid people coming at him from all directions. He eventually got to one of the many gates leading off the paved square and through the gate called Meridian. Phil was gobsmacked with the beauty of the whole place, with everything in gold and red, and the vastness of it all, including the high walls that surrounded the whole palace.

He spent the best part of the day walking and looking at the City, not noticing his hunger until it caught up with him and he sought out somewhere to get some coffee and a bite to eat. There were snack bars and places to eat in the palace but Phil thought that he had had enough of the Forbidden City for the day. He walked along the street outside the Forbidden City looking for somewhere he could get food. By now his stomach was making all sorts of noises. He got to a cafe where there were six or more steel tables and matching chairs outside and sat down on one of the free tables that still had cups and plates from the previous customers.

Sitting there, looking about waiting for the waitress to come, he couldn’t help but overhear the two young people next to him talking in Chinese. Phil listened to them, he could make out some of the words that they were saying and thought: "Ah, they are students from the college." So Phil being Phil, he turned round and said in his best Chinese that he was a student as well from Scotland on holiday here in their great city. He thought it was always better to boost it up by calling it their ‘great’ city.

They soon got talking and the guy was a second year student studying Marine Biology. "Strange", Phil thought, "but what the hell. The guy spoke away in a very strong Chinese accent with the girl looking on and smiling. Then the waitress came across to Phil asking: Yes, what can I get you?"

Phil took the menu from the table and told her what he would like in his best Chinese again but made a small mistake in pronunciation. The guy interrupted and said to Phil: You mean to say… repeating what Phil had said to the waitress. They all laughed as well as the waitress. Phil smiled and repeated what the Chinese guy had said to the waitress. She smiled and turned away and back through the door of the cafe leaving Phil and the other two talking away in Chinese and English.

Phil asked if they knew of a place where he could buy some gifts.

Yes there is a place called the Panjialties collection in Xiushui Street, offered the guy.

The girl interrupted and said in her best English, which wasn’t very good, to go to Liulichang Street. Then she hesitated halfway through a word and looked to her friend to help her out. He said what she was trying to say to Phil then both the Chinese girl and boy smiled at each other as if glad to help each other. She smiled at Phil and repeated it to him then they both laughed as Phil said: Okay thanks. It was time for the other two to go so Phil thanked them and they said their goodbyes.

Phil turned back round to his own table as the waitress brought his coffee and his order. He finished what he was eating and got the attention of the waitress to pay her, leaving a tip on the table. He made his way to the place where the two had told him to go. After quite a long walk, Phil got to the place and looked about. There was everything you could think of but not really what Phil was looking for. He walked through the stalls looking about at all the stuff when he said to a girl behind a stall, that he was looking for an antique to take home.

"There is a small shop in the old part of the town it’s… she said and pointed in the direction, it’s about half an hour’s walk." Phil thanked her and took off in the direction that he was told.

By now it was late into the afternoon and Phil still hadn’t got to where the girl had said, but just then he saw the narrow street with cobble stones that he was told about and turned down it, turning round first to see if he could find a landmark so that he could remember what street he had turned down. He saw a shop with at least ten Chinese lanterns hanging round the outside. He thought: "Yes, that will help me back to this street." He turned back round and continued down the street looking for the little shop the girl had mentioned. As he walked along, the street got quieter with less people until he was the only person apart from a woman scurrying past him and looking at him as he walked over the cobble stones. He looked at the funny old houses that had very odd roofs with wooden carvings of weird little humpbacked old men; Phil thought that they were like gremlins. The whole place was very weird and by now the street was empty of people apart from him. The street was getting very narrow with the tops of the wooden houses nearly touching one another with these weird things all looking at him everywhere he turned his head. The whole place had a silence about it that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and make him shake himself. Then he saw the shop on the corner of the street.

He walked closer to it and stood outside trying to look through the dirty window to see if he could see anything, and what caught his eye in the window amongst other things was a watch half hidden by a vase on a wooden table.

"That looks good", Phil thought, and turned to bend down to open the shop door. He stumbled into the shop not realising that there was a step and nearly knocked over things on a table. Putting his hand out to hold them steady and prevent them from falling to the ground, it took a second or so for Phil’s eyes to get used to the dim light in the shop, and then he started to look about.

The whole place was scattered with antiques all covered in dust as if the whole place had been in a time warp and not touched for years. There were books piled up on the floor all in the same way covered in dust and things hanging from the very low roof that Phil had problems avoiding. Before he got too far into the shop, Phil turned round and made his way to the window again trying to avoid tripping over things on his way there.

He got to the window eventually and put his hand out to grab the dusty watch that left a mark on the table where it had been. Phil looked at it and blew off the remaining dust from the face of the watch when a voice nearly made him jump out his skin.

Turning round Phil saw an old man standing behind him all shrivelled up with a humpback and long grey hair swept back into a very long ponytail that was plaited right down his back.

Good day, I would like this watch please, Phil said in Chinese, no doubt with some mistakes.

The little old man smiled and said that he could speak English; Phil smiled back and handed the dusty watch to him. The old man pulled his hands out from inside his very large sleeves and took the watch. As he did, Phil couldn’t help but see the old man’s hands; his nails were very long and curled right round and touched the palms of his hands, making it hard for him to take the watch. Phil again got the shivers that went right down his back.

The weird old man took the watch and chuckled away to himself as he turned away and shuffled back to a glass counter that was in the same state as the rest of the shop. There were different things under the glass top and all in the same state. Phil once again thought: "What a weird place." The whole place had a silence about it. It’s hard to describe it; it felt that the whole place was suspended in time. He watched the old man bend down below the counter and pick up a long wooden box which was covered in dust too.

Phil stood smiling to himself wondering if there was anything in the shop that didn’t have dust on it. He watched the man wipe off the dust with his hand making a scraping noise as his long nails scraped along the top of the box making Phil shiver once again and wishing that he would hurry up so he could get out of the weird fucking place; the shop was giving him uncanny feelings.

He looked about the dimly lit room and what light there was cast shadows on some of the objects. Phil thought he saw some of the shadows moving as if they were creeping around behind him and getting closer to where he was standing. He looked back at the old man to see him put the watch in the box before turning round again. He felt a presence. Someone or something else was there with him apart from the old man in the shop. Phil turned to see who or what it was ... there was nothing there, just that stillness.

But that stillness, Phil thought, had a presence of someone or something and it wasn’t alone. Phil let out a loud WHAT! as the old man said: You picked the right thing.

Phil said: Sorry what did you say? not really concentrating on what the old guy had said. He was more interested in how the place was getting colder, and for the first time since he came into the shop he could see his breath as he answered the old man.

Yes, yes I like the watch, it caught my eye as I looked through your window but I was really looking for a present for someone else Phil said.

Then the old man said something strange making Phil concentrate more on what he was saying: It was the watch that got your attention.

Phil talked to the old man and tried to understand what he meant, but he could feel more and more a presence of someone or something behind him; he looked around quickly breaking off his conversion as if to try and catch who or whatever was behind him, but there was nothing. He could smell a musky damp smell and he could feel something. It was all around him pressing on him and that damp musty smell was getting stronger, and it was certainly without doubt getting colder, making Phil rub both his arms at the same time. He looked at the guy wondering what he meant by that remark but really he just wanted to get the hell out of there, away from the old man and the weird little shop.

Phil said to the old man: How much?

The old man said a price and Phil put his hand into his pocket and pulled out some money and peeled off some notes and handed them to the man.

Thank you, thank you, the old Chinese man said as he bowed his head several time and looked at Phil and smiled, before sliding his hands up each sleeve again and slithering back into the shadow of the room. Phil peered into the darkness where the old man had backed into, but he couldn’t see him. He thought: "Fuck this", and turned to make his way back to the door. He turned around to see if he could see the little old man, but he was nowhere to be seen and the whole place was getting darker as if the darkness was actually creeping towards Phil with that musky smell getting stronger. It was swallowing everything in its path. Bit by bit the shop was disappearing in front of Phil’s very eyes. Phil made a final dash for the door knocking thing over as he rushed to the door and out of the shop.

Ding! The bell rang as he opened the door and shut it behind him.

Once outside Phil looked around and peered through the glass window of the door but the whole interior of the shop was black. He turned and started to walk - well run - and shoved the box in his pocket. Phil looked back over his shoulder to see – to his horror - what looked like the whole place coming alive.

The weird wooden carvings that were all along the roofs and under the eaves of the houses were moving, and even the roofs of the houses were bending and moving. Now Phil was running harder along the cobbled street; he could hear his own footsteps as he ran. He looked round as he ran again not really believing what he was seeing and if anything was following him, but what he saw made him quicken his pace. The darkness was swallowing up the houses.

Phil now was running for his life.

He got to the corner of the street and turned and as he did he could see the lanterns on the front of the shop and people walking along the street again. He stopped, bending down, putting his hands on his legs to catch his breath for a second or two. He could feel his heart thumping away as he took a deep breath and stood up again, feeling in his pocket if he still had the wooden box with the watch. Yes, it was there. He turned round and looked back along the street that he had just run from, for what reason he didn’t know. Just to see if he had imagined the whole thing.

Right enough the street was just a street. He looked to see if there were any wooden carvings - not one. He thought for a while as he stood on the street feeling more relaxed and trying to get his breath back, and feeling a bit safer with all the people about him. Fuck it, he thought and turned and made his way back along the street weaving in and out of all the people on the pavement. It was getting quite dark so he stopped a taxi and got a ride back to the hotel.

Once back in his hotel room, Phil had time to think about the whole experience. He hadn’t imagined any of it. He was sure of it. He sat on the bed with the watch box beside him. Phil lifted up the box and looked at it. The box was long and wooden, along the lid was Chinese lettering deeply ingrained into the lid in black. He looked at it but couldn’t read some of the words. He understood some of them and it said beware of something. He recognised the word watch but the rest was impossible to read as the next letter was badly marked and the black paint had gone from the groove. What Phil could read said: Beware of the watch and who wears the watch. The rest of the lettering either was missing or Phil couldn’t understand it because it was in an older version of Chinese or even old Mandarin. Beijing dialect was different from normal Chinese and Phil could just speak a little of regular Chinese.

He opened the lid and all of a sudden that damp musty smell filled his nostrils and instantly his thoughts were back in that little shop and that presence that had been in the shop made him shiver.

He threw the box back onto the bed, more in fright than anything. His mind flashed back to that experience and the darkness that followed him along that street. He took the box once again in his hand and opened the lid and took the watch out, putting it on the bed. He looked at the box again. It seemed to be far older than the watch itself.

After studying the box for a second or more he put it back on the bed and picked up the watch and concentrated on that. It was gold with a gold bracelet and quite heavy. He thought it could be 18 carat, but Phil being Phil it was just a guess. It had a white dial with Roman Numerals instead of the usual numbering and on the left of the dial there was a small long window with the month, January. On the other side of the dial was another long window with ‘China’ in it. The watch was already set up with the correct month and the country that he was in, but thinking back he didn’t see the old man set the watch in the shop; he just put it in the box and handed it to Phil. He looked at the time, it said half past ten. "Hm", Phil thought and reached for the remote for the TV. The plasma TV lit up and on the bottom of the screen it showed the day’s date and the time, in digital form and to the second; as the minute hand passed the Roman numeral twelve on the watch, the time changed on the TV at the exact second. "Weird", Phil thought, and took another look at the watch face. On the bottom of the dial there was another small window with the year printed in it 2012. So the watch was exactly right. Right down to what the year it was? Phil looked at the three small windows once again; they were all correct and even the time right down the correct second. As he watched the second hand reach the twelve again and at the TV they both changed at the correct time together. "That’s weird… that’s fucking weird", Phil thought, and then looked at the outside of the dial.

Around the outside of the watch were raised dimples. He held the watch in one hand and turned the outer dial clockwise with his thumb and first finger and the dial turned easy; at the top or what was the top before he had turned it, was a small raised symbol of a dragon. He kept on turning the outer dial right round to the twelve mark and as the dragon passed the twelve mark the month changed to February.

He kept on turning the outer dial clockwise the full circumference again and the year started to change instead of 20 12 it had changed to 2013. He continued to turn the outer dial, the small window at the bottom of