Beyond Broadhall by Keith A Pearson

Author:Keith A Pearson [Pearson, Keith A]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: CrestaPress Publishing
Published: 2017-02-03T00:00:00+00:00

16

For a few minutes the excitement in the bedroom is palpable. We’re like two football players celebrating after a goal is scored, just before we realise the goal has been disallowed by the referee.

The practicalities of our ridiculous quest calm our celebration.

“Where does he live?” the old man asks.

“A few streets away from where we used to live.”

“Even now?”

It’s a good question. We were inseparable as teenagers and did so much together. But without me in his life, is it realistic to assume it would have gone in the exact same direction?

A troubling thought suddenly crosses my mind.

Dave met his future wife, Suzy, during a night out in town. Megan and I were celebrating our fifth wedding anniversary and she invited a few of her colleagues along, including Suzy.

Shit.

In this life I never married Megan so there wouldn’t have been a night out, therefore Dave and Suzy would never have met, never have started dating, and never have married. It therefore seems highly unlikely Dave would have ended up living in their marital home.

“Um, thinking about it, I’m not so sure where he lives now,” I reply, still trying to get my head around the fact I terminated Dave’s marriage before he even met his wife.

The one consolation is that Dave and Suzy had a pretty volatile marriage. They both had affairs and I listened to Dave complain about his relationship enough times. Maybe he’s married somebody a little more suitable this time. I’ll run with that theory and assume I’ve done him a favour. And Suzy. Probably.

“So how do we find him then?” the old man asks.

We need the Internet.

“I’m guessing you don’t have a computer with an Internet connection?”

“No, but the TV has Ceefax, although I haven’t used it in a while. Would that work?”

“Dad, they turned Ceefax off about five years ago and no, it wouldn’t help us even if we could still use it.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “I’m a bit behind the times with all this technological nonsense.”

“Yeah, just a bit.”

I pull my phone from my pocket and search for wi-fi networks. There are just two, both of them locked. I try to connect to the mobile network but our semi-rural location has a piss-poor signal, barely adequate for phone calls let alone Internet use.

“Do you know your neighbours well enough they might let us use their Internet connection for an hour?”

“I think Miriam next door has it. She chats to her son in New Zealand all the time on her computer.”

“Right. Let’s go pay Miriam a visit then.”

With a real sense of purpose, we stride out onto the cul-de-sac and across the driveway to number two. We ring the bell and wait for Miriam to answer the door.

A long moment passes before a tweedy looking woman with white hair opens the door.

“Good afternoon Colin,” she blusters with all the warmth of a Dickensian schoolmistress.

“Afternoon Miriam.”

She eyes me up and down before returning her stern gaze to the old man. “And who do we have here?” she asks brusquely.

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