Ahead of his Time by Adrian Cousins (children's books read aloud .txt) 📕

This was it. I’d reached the point of no return. Jenny wasn’t going to accept some rubbish that I could conjure up in a few seconds. It may be time to come clean – whatever the consequences.

Taking a deep breath to give my brain one last second to come up with some believable shite before my mouth blurted out what presumably would be the most ridiculous story Jenny had ever heard – my brain failed to deliver.

‘Screwed mate!’

“Jen, I need to talk to you. But I will need George here with me to do that.” God knows how, but I managed to appear calm, clear and concise.

“Jason, you’re scaring me. What’s going on? And why do you need George here? I’m your wife, and I don’t understand what he’s got to do with our relationship?”

I moved towards her and grabbed her shaking hands, pulling her closer to me. “I ask that you trust me. Trust me, Jen. Let me ring George. I’ll get you a drink, then we’ll talk … but George must be here.”

I left Jen sitting at the kitchen table with a substantially large glass of wine whilst I phoned George and prayed he could come immediately. Thankfully he recognised the gravity of the situation, threw Ivy an acceptable excuse and said he’d be over in ten minutes – ten very long minutes – which I used to power my way through two cigarettes on the doorstep before going back into the kitchen.

“Jen, George said he will be here in a few minutes. Before I say anything else, you know, really know in your heart that I love you? Also, I’ve not done anything that falls foul of our wedding vows.”

“Lying?” She didn’t look up but just repeated that word, “Lying?”

“Withholding some truth, yes … but not strictly lying.”

I plonked my bum in the chair next to her and took her hand. She didn’t fight me but looked up with tears trickling down her face. We stayed motionless, not uttering a word until George arrived – I was devastated.

George didn’t knock but burst into the kitchen and stood and stared at both of us crying as we held each other’s hands. “Oh hell, I knew this day would come; just knew it,” he said, as he hung his coat on the handle of the yellow Ewbank carpet sweeper, which was propped up against the kitchen wall.

“Sit, George, I will get you a whisky.” I released my hands from Jenny and nipped through to get the whisky bottle from the drink’s cabinet in the lounge. When I returned, George had taken Jenny’s hands in his.

“Right, lass. We’ve known each other for a few months, and I’d like to think we’ve grown quite close … would you agree?” Jen nodded and glanced at me as I placed a glass of whisky in front of George, then looked back at him.

“I hope you think of me a sensible normal kind of chap?” He raised his eyebrow, George Sutton style. It was a question that seemed to hang in the air, waiting for my wife to respond. I looked down at their hands, Jenny’s tiny slim fingers dwarfed by George’s huge fists.

Yes, of course, George, you and Ivy are wonderful people. I don’t think I’ve ever met such lovely people as you both. It's fair to say that Jason and I love you like parents … but George, what’s going on?”

George swallowed the whisky in one slug and took hold of her hands again.

“Lass, I wanna tell you a true story.” Which I thought sounded a bit like Max Bygraves, although there was nothing humorous about this situation.

“All I want you to do is listen to me. When I’ve told you this totally true story, we can talk … is that a deal?” George asked.

Jenny shot me a look, her face screwed up in a mixture of confusion and anger, then stared back at George. She looked scared, and I hated it. I loved her, and this was killing me.

“Jenny lass, do we have a deal?”

“Yes … yes, George.”

I stood leaning up against the sink, gripping the edge with such force my knuckles were white as George relayed the story of my time-travel adventure. To be fair, as George had all those months ago, Jenny listened without interrupting. With her hands clasped in his, she occasionally glanced up at me. Listening to the story George told was difficult to hear. Although I was living it, clearly to any sane normal human being it was so bloody ridiculous, and it was a miracle he’d ever believed me. I now feared my marriage was over as this was going to be too much for Jenny. Well, it would be for any reasonable person, and I knew this would be too much for her to take in without thinking George and I had lost our marbles.

George concluded my tale and, for a few long minutes, we sat quietly staring at each other. I fidgeted with a dishcloth whilst George rattled the change in his pockets – Jenny just stared at me.

“Jen?” She didn’t waver – just continued to stare – her emerald eyes had taken on a darker shade, and I now felt they were piercing my skull.

“You remember I bet a hundred-pounds on that Grand Prix race last October, and you thought that was madness? Also, remember that little argument we had when I placed a bet on Jimmy Carter winning the American Presidential election even though all the political reporting suggested Ford would win?”

Jen just continued to glare at me, not blinking.

“Well, those bets weren’t a risk; they were facts as I had the knowledge.” Jenny huffed, gulped down her wine, shaking her head.

I pushed on. She hadn’t thrown us out – yet – so I carried on trying to inch her mind closer to accepting this madness. “You often comment I do and say silly things … you say you like that about me.” I rambled on