Step Back in Time (21 page)

‘Really?’ Ellie asks in astonishment as we sit in a Wimpy and eat the saddest pair of burgers I think I’ve ever seen and tasted. It almost makes me wistful for a Big Mac and fries, something I thought I’d never feel. ‘Only records? How dull.’

‘Yep, and we thought we’d got the scoop of the century,’ I say, giving up on the burger and laying it down on my plate – yes, plate. The joys of instantly disposable take away packaging hasn’t quite reached this London burger joint in 1985.

‘But what about Lucy?’ Ellie asks. ‘Why would she suggest that Harry was involved in drugs if he wasn’t?’

‘I know, that’s what I’ve been wondering about.’ I’d asked Harry about Lucy when he’d insisted Henry drive me home again, but he didn’t seem to know anything about her, only that she was a member of his packing staff.

Ellie shrugs as she dips one of her fries in ketchup. ‘Doesn’t make any sense, does it? But if that’s his story, then I guess we’d better leave it. You’re sure he’s telling the truth? That the record thing isn’t just a cover?’

‘Yes, positive. No one could pretend to be that enthusiastic about old vinyl LPs unless they genuinely meant it.’

Ellie laughs. ‘I know what you mean; Stuart is the same about his punk stuff. When we went back to his flat last night —’

‘Whoah there, missy!’ I exclaim, holding up my hand. ‘Wait just a moment! You went back to his flat?’

Ellie squirms in her chair. ‘Yeah, I know, but he’s so nice, Jo-Jo, and so sexy. I really, really like him.’

‘Obviously!’

‘Anyway, as I was saying,’ Ellie continues, her cheeks flushed, ‘he has this massive collection of punk memorabilia and loads of old records, too. Treats it all like it’s fine wine or precious jewels.’ A wistful expression appears on her face. ‘I’d like to think he’ll treat me like that one day if I’m lucky.’

‘One night with him and you’re in lurve,’ I tease.

‘No, I’m not! Stop it,’ Ellie protests, her cheeks getting even redder. She takes a sip of her Coke. ‘Have you ever been in love, Jo-Jo?’ she asks. ‘I mean,
really
in love? That heart-pounding, stomach-wrenching all-encompassing love that makes you think about that person all the time? And do almost anything to be with them?’

‘No,’ I say without having to think about it, ‘I haven’t. I’m not sure it really exists, does it? And if it does, I’m sure I’ll never suffer from it in that way.’

‘Jo-Jo, you make it sound like a nasty disease. Well, I want to believe it does exist – and I bet you’ll be affected by it one day. Love does funny things to people. They say it hits you like a bolt out of the blue and you’ll not know what to do with yourself when it does. What?’ she asks when I don’t respond. ‘What are you thinking about?’

‘What you just said – about love doing funny things to people. Love may not have hit me like a bolt out of the blue, but something else just has.’ I push my chair back and stand up, my mind racing. ‘I have to dash, I’ll catch you later, OK?’

‘Sure,’ Ellie says, looking puzzled as I head for the door of the Wimpy. ‘I have another date with Stu tonight – shall I call you later and let you know how it goes?’

‘Yes, you do that,’ I call back, but my mind is already elsewhere. And that place is Beat Music.

As I hurry down the street I reach for my bag as though to pull a mobile phone from it. Damn, I still can’t get used to that, I think, as my hand fails to find one.

But I can’t wait until tonight to talk to her at the Karma club – and anyway I’m banned from there, so I’m just going to have to try and find her at Harry’s place right now.

I’m talking about Lucy, of course.

There’s always been something that’s bothered me about Lucy since the first time I met her, something that’s familiar, and now I think I know what that something is. I also think I know why she could hate Harry so much that she’s trying to tarnish his name.

Lucy has that same slightly haunted look in her eyes I’d seen before in Walter Maxwell back in 1963, and then the original Stu back in 1977. She’s a loner here in 1985 because she doesn’t belong. She’s from another time like me, I realise that now. But in that other time had she loved and lost Harry? Had he betrayed her, or cheated on her and now she wants her revenge? Like Ellie said, love could do funny things to people, make them behave in odd ways that were quite out of character.

I manage to hail an empty taxi, and within half an hour I’m waiting outside the gates of Beat Music again. I ask the security guard on duty to tell Harry I’m here, and to my relief the gates swing open and I’m immediately let in.

The taxi sweeps up in front of the main building, looking so very different today in the daylight than it did last night, and I find Harry already waiting for me in the foyer as I step out of the door and pay the driver.

‘Good afternoon,’ Harry says. ‘I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.’

‘I need to ask you a favour,’ I say, smiling apologetically at him. ‘And I wonder if you’d mind not asking me why.’

I wait for Lucy in the staff canteen, which, in the middle of the afternoon, is deserted.

I wonder how I’m going to ask her this. I mean, it’s not every day someone comes up to you and asks the question: ‘Are you from another time – just like me?’

And what if she isn’t? What if I’ve got it all wrong? I made a mistake easily enough with Harry the other day; maybe time travelling has messed my judgement up completely. Lucy will think I’m a head case, and probably tell Harry. And oddly, as much as I don’t want it to, what Harry thinks about me matters.

I think about him while I wait. He was very sweet last night after we left the vault. He took me home to my flat, and made sure I was safely in before driving off with Henry. He casually mentioned us seeing one another again – but he meant for drinks or a meal some time. Not me storming into his company and asking for favours that he wasn’t allowed to ask about. But, as always, Harry was very calm and collected and did as I asked without making a fuss. He simply said, ‘I guess you’ll tell me when the time is right.’

Lucy walks into the canteen now. She’s wearing jeans, pixie boots and a T-shirt with Duran Duran on. She has virtually no make-up on, and her black, bobbed hair is held back with a thick black Alice band. She looks completely different from the times I’ve seen her in the club, dressed in her mini skirts and low-cut tops and I realise now how young she actually is.

‘Jo-Jo?’ she asks, looking surprised as she sits down at the table opposite me. ‘They said there was someone here to see me, but they didn’t say it was you.’

I study Lucy’s eyes for a moment, just to make sure.

‘What? Why are you staring at me?’ she demands. ‘What’s going on? Have I done something wrong?’

‘Are you lonely, Lucy?’ I ask.

‘What sort of question is that?’ she says, suddenly defensive. She folds her arms and sits back in her chair.

‘Please, it’s important.’

She sighs. ‘I don’t have a packed social calendar as you well know, working two jobs.’

‘And you mentioned the other night you don’t have any family here, either?’

‘What is this?’ she asks, looking at me suspiciously. ‘Are you from the Social? I thought you were a journalist. Where’s your photographer mate today?’

‘Do you feel like you fit in?’ I attempt. Can I really be wrong again?

‘Yeah, I love packing bloody records up all day and serving drinks to leering fat bastards at night. Look, when they told me I was going to talk to a journalist today I was hoping for a six-page spread in
OK!
or even
Hello!
if I put a posh enough accent on!’ She grins at her own joke. ‘I certainly didn’t expect it would be
you
asking me weird questions, Jo-Jo. I thought you were one of the all right ones.’

I sigh and lean back in my chair; this is going nowhere. Then suddenly my eyes dart back towards Lucy.

‘What did you say just then?’ I ask. ‘About magazines?’

‘Dunno,’ she shrugs, her cheeks pinking a little.

‘
Hello!
and
OK!
magazines aren’t around yet,’ I say, my eyes lighting up as my brain begins to whizz. I sit forward in my seat again. ‘So I
am
right. You’re one of them, aren’t you? I mean, one of
us
.’

‘What are you babbling on about now?’ Lucy asks, opening a pack of gum with fingers that are trembling slightly. She offers me some, but I decline.

‘You’ve travelled in time,’ I whisper just in case anyone should be listening in the deserted canteen.

‘What do you know about
that
?’ she hisses.

‘I know, because I’ve done it too.’

Lucy’s eyes narrow. ‘Why should I believe you? You’re a journalist, you’ll do anything if you get the whiff of a good story.’

‘I’m telling you the truth, Lucy. I’ve been back to 1963 and 1977 and now I’m stuck here in 1985. I don’t belong in any of those years, any more than you do. And I’m not a journalist, I’m an accountant from 2013.’

Lucy looks unimpressed by my plea until I mention the word 2013.

‘You’re from 2013?’

‘Yes, that’s right.’

She considers this. ‘If you are, who’s the president of the United States then?’

‘Barack Obama, he was re-elected for a second term.’

‘The prime minister of the UK?’

‘David Cameron.’

She pulls a face, but nods. Then she thinks for a moment. ‘Who are the judges on
The X Factor
that year?’

I stare at Lucy. ‘Are you kidding me?’

She shakes her head.

‘I don’t know; it hadn’t started when I left. But you can bet Louis Walsh is one – they can’t get rid of
him
.’

Lucy grins. ‘You really are from 2013, aren’t you?’

‘Yes, and so are you by the sound of it. What happened?’

‘Hit and run,’ Lucy says, grimacing. ‘I’d got a job in Liverpool city centre for the day, easy money it was too, all I had to do was walk about with a stupid sandwich board strapped to my chest.’ She laughs bitterly. ‘Ticket to Ride bus tours they were called. Turns out it was my ticket to ride out of there that day, because when I stepped out to cross the road a car just came from nowhere and hit me.’

I swallow hard. ‘That’s what happened to me.’

‘Really?’ Lucy asks, looking surprised. ‘Maybe that’s how we all go.’

‘No,’ I shake my head, ‘it varies.’

‘How do you know all this?’ Lucy asks ‘What makes you an expert?’

‘I’m no expert, believe me I wish I was, but in every decade I’ve visited I’ve met someone just like us, stuck in a time they don’t want to be in.’

‘Tell me about it,’ Lucy rolls her eyes. ‘The eighties is retro back in 2013, as you probably remember. It’s cool to like the music, watch the films and wear the clothes, but it’s not so much fun actually living it for real. And you say there’s lots of us doing it?’

‘Yes, it would appear so. I haven’t quite figured out how it all works myself yet. How long have you been here?’

‘Not long, a few months, so I guess I’m quite new to it all. Took me a few days to realise it wasn’t some bad dream I was going to wake up from, and I was going to have to start earning some sort of living. Luckily, that’s when Ringo found me and offered me the job at the club. I know you don’t like him, Jo-Jo,’ she says when I pull a face. ‘But he saved my bacon, I was virtually living in the gutter and now at least I have a room of my own in the house that Ringo rents out to the girls at his club when they first start working for him. When I was back on my feet and I got the job here as well, I moved out into my own flat.’

I’m still not convinced by this description of Ringo as some knight in shining armour, saving damsels in distress.

‘What else goes on in this house he rents out?’ I ask sceptically. ‘Are there many visitors to it?
Male
visitors?’

‘Nah, it’s not like that at all. Ringo looks after his girls, and I mean
genuinely
looks after them. I may be young, but I’m not stupid, Jo-Jo, and I wondered that myself when I took him up on his offer of a room and a job at the club. But I can 100 per cent guarantee you that no funny business goes on at that house or at the club.’

‘So you’re telling me he helps these young girls out of the goodness of his heart? I find that hard to believe.’

‘Obviously Ringo makes money out of the club, and having pretty girls working for him is a bonus. And I’m not saying that a few shady deals haven’t taken place there on occasion – Ringo isn’t exactly Mother Teresa – but he’s no pimp, Jo-Jo. You’ve got that completely wrong. He helps girls out by giving them a safe home when they’re in need. In return, they work for him at the club. It’s a simple arrangement that suits both parties until the former is back on their feet again and can move on. Ringo has a lot of contacts, that’s how most of the girls get their new jobs, through people they meet at the club.’

I must still look sceptical, because Lucy adds, ‘It’s the truth, Jo-Jo – I should know, I was one of the girls on the streets. Ringo gave me a safe place to stay, and for that I’ll always be grateful to him.’

‘So when he offers the chance for his clients to come backstage and
meet
the girls – that’s it? He simply introduces them to prospective employers?’

‘Yeah. I’m sure a lot of them think it’s for something else, but Ringo makes it quite clear from the start what’s what.’

I think about this for a moment. ‘It’s an unorthodox approach, I guess, but if it works…’

Lucy nods. ‘It does.’

‘Perhaps I did add two and two together and get five on this occasion.’

‘Maths obviously not your strong point, eh?’ Lucy smiles.

‘Not any more, it would seem.’

Lucy thinks for a moment. ‘But even though I’m fairly settled now, I’d do anything to go back again – I miss my family so much. It must be worse for you, though, if you keep moving around all the time. At least I’m stuck here in one decade with the same people. You can’t ever know whether you’re coming or going.’

‘It’s not easy, but I manage,’ I reply, thinking about Harry and Ellie, my two constants, and then I remember George. ‘Sometimes I actually prefer it to my old life.’