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

mission was to prevent his own future existence. “And if you did, you couldn’t go back even if you wanted to because you wouldn’t be born!”

“As I said, my father wasn’t my real dad, and I didn't know that until after he’d died. When I was about twenty-one, I was helping Mum with clearing out the loft. In one of the boxes that were full of crap which I took up the tip for her, I noticed a folder with some paperwork. It looked like it needed shredding and not just throwing away, so before I returned it back to Mum, I read through some of it. One of those letters was the official documents when my father adopted me. So inevitably, the questions came flowing. At first, she wouldn’t tell me anything, but my relentless questioning broke her down in the end. Although I regret pushing her on it now I know the truth.”

Martin took another drag on his cigarette, eyes focused on the burning end which gave him that Nookie Bear look again. Intrigued about where this was going, I kept schtum and waited for him to continue.

“Mum was raped. So basically, my father is the rapist. She never reported the rape because she was worried about her parents’ reaction. Apparently, my grandfather was hurt in the ’70s when he tried to deal with a sexual assault which my mum suffered when still at school. She said she knew the rapist, so she couldn’t risk her father getting hurt if she’d said anything.”

He had a look of sincerity about him that I’d never seen before. What he knew about his biological father was a lot to cope with. Thinking about Sarah, it was horrific to know what that girl would go through ten years from now.

“Oh, Martin, I’m so sorry … that’s awful. As you well know, I'm crap in these situations so I'm not really sure what to say. I'm so sorry.”

“No, Jason, don’t worry. It was a lot to take in at the time, but I just got used to living with it over the years. It was hard thinking that my mum must have hated me as the product of the rape, but she never showed it. She loves me … I know she does.”

“And you say that your mum knew her attacker? Did she ever say who it was?”

He shook his head. “No. I asked, but I knew I was just causing her more pain. She admitted once it was a brother of the boy who assaulted her when she was at school. I decided not to push it any further as my mum wanted to forget it, so I thought I should as well, but sitting here for the last few days it’s consumed me. I don’t know when she was attacked as a schoolgirl, but she’s school-age now, so it could have already happened … or going to happen.”

Martin looked at me and pointed his cigarette in my direction. “I fully intend to find out who assaulted her at school. When I do, I’ll know who my father is, as he will be the brother of that bastard. Once I know that, then I have to stop him, so Mum never gets raped.”

Struck dumb, I gawped at him with my cigarette hanging loose in my mouth, causing the end to droop down. I had a pretty good idea who his real father was.

“What’s up with you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Err … no … nothing.” I needed to process this information. I couldn’t tell him what I knew, not at the moment, as that could lead him off on all sorts of tangents. For now, I needed this bloke controlled and not going off like a hand grenade at any point.

“Look, Martin, that may be why you are here, although we don’t know for certain. Of course I will help you, but I can’t risk you going around questioning all the pupils at school and asking your mum if she’s been assaulted yet. We have to tread carefully. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, I get it, but this is why I’m here. So we’re going to have to move quickly on this one, in case that assault is soon.”

“Okay, look, for the moment, let's get you into that job and take it from there. But you’re going to have to trust me. Anyone finding out who we are or a sniff that we claim to know the future will end badly for both of us.”

“Alright, alright, I get it! You don’t have to go on and on.” He stubbed out the cigarette on the plate, which afforded the table a look of my old Uni bedsit: unwashed dishes, fag butts and beer cans everywhere.

I thumbed out some cash from my wallet. “Right mate, you need to get set up with some clothes. I know I dropped off some of mine on Monday, but we need to get you your own. Here’s two-hundred quid. Get into town tomorrow and do some shopping, but remember the clothes are different. You’re not going to find Nike t-shirts and trainers. Also, you need some shirts and trousers for school on Monday. Can you do that without causing a calamity that ends up putting you on the front page of the Chronicle or getting arrested?”

Martin took the cash, folding it and ramming it in his trouser pockets. “I’ll try,” he smirked. The normal Martin had returned after the grim conversation regarding his mother.

“I’ll keep the denim jacket you gave me. It’s kind of retro, but you can have your pants back!”

20

22nd January 1977

Ginger Beer

George and I took a trip to Upton Park on Saturday. Although Jenny loved going to the football, she attended less and less now we had the kids. I supplied George with a rundown of the events from Wednesday night and the call I’d made to the Bell Pub. He was shocked but agreed that, although a dreadful event, it