In Lieu of You: A British Time Travel Adventure by Keith A Pearson

Author:Keith A Pearson [Pearson, Keith A]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-08-07T04:00:00+00:00

24.

I stayed with Mum for another half-hour and then made my excuses. I’ve no idea what she’s been through over the last decade, but it’s left a lasting impression. It’s another reason I have to find a way to undo my tinkering with the past, not that I don’t have enough reasons already.

I drive one of those reasons back to another — the flat. I refuse to call it home and, as it’s rented, it’s not mine. Although the hour I spent with Mum helped fill in some blanks about this life, it confirmed my fear that the shortlist of potential volunteers for a trip back in time couldn’t be any shorter. I’m hoping I might find something in the flat relating to other friendships I’ve forged in the last few years.

Once I step through the door, I head straight to the bedroom and kick off the awful trainers. I’m no brand snob, but you get what you don’t pay for with cheap footwear: blisters.

I only had a cursory nose around the flat earlier, but now I’ve got all the time in the world, except I haven’t. As Edith Stimp stressed, the clock is ticking.

The foraging for information begins in the bedroom. There’s nothing of interest in the bedside table or chest of drawers, but I do unearth a filing box at the bottom of the wardrobe. I transfer it to the bed and begin sifting through the compartments. There’s nothing to aid my quest, but I get a clearer picture of the financial situation I’ve inherited, courtesy of three months’ bank statements and a copy of a tenancy agreement. The bank statements reveal that I’m left with a shade under three-hundred quid a month in disposable income before food and clothing. Now I understand why there are only a handful of cheap garments hanging in the wardrobe — I’m skint.

I return the box to the wardrobe and head for the lounge.

Standing in the doorway, I’m struck by how much the room reminds me of the first flat Clare and I rented together. Every stick of furniture screams cheap or second-hand, and the walls are painted in a similar shade of insipid magnolia. The main difference is the television set because ours was a hulking beast built in the early nineties, whereas this room features a thirty-two-inch flatscreen set, albeit an older model.

It seems unlikely I’ll learn anything new about my life in here, which is why I step towards the centre of the room more in hope than expectation. I couldn’t see it from the doorway, but there’s a flat-pack bookcase to the left of the two-seater sofa, and every shelf is full. I’ve never been much of a reader because I don’t have the time or attention span, but my predecessor patently had plenty of both.

There is, however, a more interesting item poking out of a magazine rack next to the sofa: a laptop.

I snatch it up and sit on the sofa. Knowing how much of our lives we store on digital devices, this has to be my best bet for information on Gary Kirk’s life.

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