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

head in The Sun newspaper. His head shot up as I entered the kitchen and he quickly thumbed back to page three, spun the paper around, exclaiming, and I quote, “Look at the tits on that!”

I rolled my eyes as he waved a topless, almost full-page picture of a very young Linda Lusardi at me. “Christ’s sake, Martin, is that all you’re doing looking at nude pictures all day?”

“Well, nothing else to do … can’t even load up ‘Pornhub’. Can’t believe there are no mobile phones and no internet. It’s like living in medieval times. Do they still have public hangings in this era?”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Martin, grow up! And I think you can live without ‘Pornhub’. Anyway, with your antics with Lisa, I’d have thought you’ve already had your fair share of gawping at women’s tits!” I seemed to have raised my voice and pulled the conversation back to Lisa. I knew it wasn’t that I cared they’d got it together, more the denting of my male pride.

Martin flushed and looked highly embarrassed as he folded the paper and plopped it on the table. The front page displayed the headline Fear in Fairfield, with a picture of St. Stephens Street full of emergency vehicles and debris strewn from the collapsed Bell Pub.

“Yeah, that’s a bit embarrassing really; sorry about that.” Well, it was an apology but not exactly an act of contrition.

“You’re sorry … is that it?” I flung my arms up in exasperation.

“How did you know it was me she was seeing?”

“Remember the day you hid in the wardrobe and revealed your arse?”

“Yeah. But as I said, how did you know it was me? And when did you know? You never said anything, and it was over a year ago. I can tell you if I caught anyone knobbing my Caroline, I’d have smashed his face in!”

“Oh, so no bloke can knob your wife, as you put it? But it's okay for you to knob anyone you like! Double standards, mate!”

Martin nodded and held up his hand.

“I didn’t know it was you until yesterday when you showed me your snake tattoo. The very same tattoo on the leg of the bloke hiding in the wardrobe that day!”

“Oh.”

“Yes. Oh, indeed! How the hell did you and Lisa end up having a fling? It was common knowledge that we were finished, and I will be honest it really doesn’t matter now. Also, I was no saint during our marriage, but I can’t understand how you two got together.”

Martin shrugged.

I carried on. “I mean, she’s about eight years older than you. Lisa was always fit, but your wife was stunning, and more importantly she’s a really nice girl. Why would you cheat on her?”

Martin shrugged again.

I plucked up the back of a kitchen chair and slotted myself down in it. Fishing out my cigarettes, I lit up and dragged across a small blue china plate to use as an ashtray which had the remnants of Martin’s lunch still in residence.

“Why? It’s like having fillet steak at home and nipping out for a Big Mac.”

Martin shrugged again. “I did play away a bit. I know it’s wrong, but women just seem to be attracted to me. They always give me the come on, and I can't help myself.”

“Oh, right, well, lucky you! Mere mortals like me don’t have that problem!”

“Well, you’ve done alright, mate. Your missus is stunning.”

“Martin, it’s not about how stunning a woman is or her cup-size! It’s about love. Christ man, you need to grow up!”

Martin bowed his head, the dynamics of the conversation reminiscent of our time at Waddington Steel. Although he was good at his job, there were occasions in the early days when I’d have to give him a dressing-down regarding his behaviour. As a lad in his mid-twenties at the time, it was to be expected.

He looked up, appearing teary-eyed again. “I’m sorry, Jason. Lisa and I got together in summer 2018. There was a BBQ at your place, and you were your usual boring self and didn’t join in as you wanted to watch the Wimbledon singles final. After a while, a few joined you, including Caroline. Lisa and I stayed out in the garden and just hit it off.”

“You mean, Lisa gave you the come-on?”

“Err … yeah.”

“Well, no need to get all teary-eyed. Apart from perhaps my dented pride, I really couldn’t give a shit.”

Martin sniffed and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “Ha, I’m a bit teary as I’m never going to see Caroline again, am I?”

I huffed and blew out some smoke. “No, mate, I don’t think so. I don’t want to go back and, even if I did, I have no idea how that would work.”

Martin nodded and looked down at the folded newspaper.

“So, you went out to get a paper today. Where did you get the money from?”

“Your missus. I asked her yesterday if I could have a bit of cash. She didn’t mind and gave me a couple of quid. Ha, I thought bloody hell, that’s not going to go far. I felt like a street beggar who’d just been given a penny. I didn’t say anything as that would have been rude, but realised that two quid can go quite far at the newsagents. The Sun was only five-pence and I bought myself a couple of Cadbury's Rumba bars; unbelievably they were only four-pence each!”

“Right. Did you say anything strange in the shop?” I asked, concerned that he seemed incapable of understanding anything about this era. I mean, had he not heard of the concept of inflation?

“No, not really. Just said to the bloke can I have a scratch card as well, but he just looked at me blankly, so I didn’t push it.”

“Fuck sake, you’re going to have to get a grip. Bloody lottery scratch cards didn’t exist in the ’70s!”

“Right, that’s why he looked at me a bit odd.”

“Did you go anywhere else?”

“Frig sake, Jason, you’re not my dad. You’re treating me like a