As Time Goes By

Another historical story with a slight sci-fi bent. As a time traveller is sent to London's east end during the swinging sixties. I'm trying to pay homage to the style, music and spirit of the mid-to-late sixties. It's a bit longer than some of my others and takes a little while to get to good bits. It's all part of the world-building.

All characters are fictitious and over eighteen. As always I hope you enjoy it.

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**Chapter 1: Lonely Hearts Club **

"Well you could at least dress a little smarter," Mum said as I came downstairs.

"Why? It's only an antique store," I said yawning as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes.

"I told you not to go out last night, you're hungover aren't you," she said with a note of disapproval in her voice.

"I'm twenty-two, single, and working a shitty minimum wage job. Of course, I'm hungover," I said with a sarcastic smile.

"Don't give me attitude. You're lucky I found you this job," she said as she shoved some toast across the counter.

"Yeah, thanks, Mum. Sorry," I said feeling a little sick as I ate the buttery toast.

"Jay. Things will work out. I know you loved the bar but it wasn't a stable job, was it? This won't be forever. You can always look for something else," Mum said kissing the top of my head as she collected her things.

It was true I had loved working at the bar. It had been my first job out of school. As an awkward eighteen-year-old, I had been thrown behind a busy bar in Soho, west London. The bar was special, it was the legendary 100club. It was famed for hosting bands like the Kinks and the Beatles in the heyday of the British music scene.

Now we had a comedy night on Monday. Live acoustic night on Wednesday, and student nights on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Friday and Saturday were straight club nights. It meant the customers were different each night and it made things interesting. I had met my first proper girlfriend whilst working there. Megan was a proper pocket rocket. A pixie punk rocker with lots of tattoos and piercings.

She hated me at first of course. The young dumb kid, who couldn't pull a pint properly, or make the simplest cocktail. I fell for her instantly, like a love-struck puppy. Wanting to do everything to gain her approval. I worked hard, learnt quickly and watched a shit ton of mixology videos. It was only when I started giving her shit back, that she started to like me.

I was never short of attention from drunk, horny girls at the bar. Most just batted their eyelashes to get cheap drinks. Some were genuinely interested but I graciously shot each advance down. I think that also seemed to win points with Megan. I spent so much time at the bar that the manager, Mike, let me move into his flat upstairs. We split the rent three ways, as Megan had a room as well. Mike had the master bedroom and I crashed on the couch. To be fair it was a sweet set-up for a young guy in London.

It didn't take long for Megan and I to get together. When you're around each other at work and living together you gravitate to each other. She was an absolute animal in the sack. I mean dirty and adventurous. She convinced me to hit the gym and bulk up a bit. She even encouraged me to get a Star Wars-themed sleeve tattoo. But like with most young romances it all came crashing down.

For us, it happened two years after we got together when I came home from a lad's weekend. Megan was upset that I had gone away rather than spend my birthday with her. So I came back a day early. Unfortunately, that gave me the chance to see her bouncing on Mike's cock, on the living room sofa. My fucking bed incidentally, can you fucking believe her.

It turned out they had been fucking for months. The only reason she had dated me at all, was to make Mike jealous. So there I was, single, jobless and homeless. Thank you, Megan. I moved back to Mum's in the east end and tried to sort my life out.

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The cold February rain drenched the two of us as we ran to the car. It had been raining for days and showed no sign of stopping. We pulled up outside the old run-down shop. The windows were crammed with antiques and retro memorabilia. I looked at it with a grimace which Mum noticed.

"Well give it a try. I know Mr Brown is looking forward to some help. So be a good boy and mind your manners. He's such a lovely old man," Mum said.

She had cared for Mr Brown's wife at the care home until she died last year. They had all grown quite close from what I knew and kept in touch. I remembered all the years my mother had dragged me to that place. She couldn't afford childcare as a single Mum so I tagged along. Some old boy taught me the piano and I thrilled the oldies by playing their favourite tunes. It had been ages since I played though. When she told Mr Brown I was looking for a job, he said he needed help at his shop.

"Yeah mum, I will. Thanks for letting me stay and everything," I said giving her a quick hug before getting out of the car.

"And make sure you smile at the customers. You have a beautiful smile," she said blowing me a kiss as she drove off.

Mothers. You never quite grow up in their eyes, do you?

I tried to open the door but it was locked. Rain poured down, soaking me quickly as I left my coat in the car. I waited a few minutes staring through the fogged-up windows. Getting frustrated I banged hard on the locked door.

"Wait a minute. I cut me bloody finger!" shouted a croaky voice from inside.

An old man opened the door with a bandaged finger on his right hand. He had balding white hair and a great big bushy white beard. He looked like a mixture between Uncle Albert and Father Christmas. He dragged me inside and closed the door behind him.

His blue eyes quickly scanned me. From my short brown hair, T-shirt and tight jeans, right down to my Adidas trainers. All

the while I stood in a little puddle as the water dripped from my clothes.

"My god look at the state of ya. You must be Lisa's boy. Ray, right?" Mr Brown said. Stretching out a hand.

I shook it, marvelling at the strength of his grip. There was something strange about this man. Something familiar, like I had met him before. Then I reasoned that he reminded me of my grandad.

"It's Jay actually," I said letting go of his hand and resisting the urge to rub my sore fingers.

"Ray, Jay it's all the bloody same. First off you need to get out of those wet clothes, you'll catch your death. There's a rail over there. Grab some clothes and change," Mr Bown said as I started to shiver.

As I walked to the clothes rail I had a quick look around the shop. It was full of tables with all manner of nick-nacks, curios and antiques. Most were not even that old, it was more of a retro store than an antique store. Loads of old records, football programmes and clothes everywhere. There were even jars of old coins and banknotes and in the corner a small piano.

I found some jeans and a tight-knitted retro polo top. I replaced my drenched trainers with a pair of leather chukka boots.

"What the hell you doing boy, there's a

changing room back here," Mr Brown said as he shook his head.

I sheepishly put my new polo top on.

"Now I have a surprise for ya. You're gonna love it," Mr Brown said, running behind the counter.

"Meet Mrs Dust Cloth and Mr Polish," he said with a barking laugh as he handed them to me.

"Only joking, don't look so serious. I need you to help me tidy this place up. Since my wife died I've let things go to shit. I promise I won't get you cleaning all the time," he said as he slapped me on the back.

"Good lad," he added when I started cleaning.

The shop was a maze with more and more little rooms the further you went back. There were old records, gramophones, radios and many other electricals. There were old theatre programmes from the west end and a bigger cloakroom of old clothes. The whole shop had a musky, dusty smell.

I reached a small back room which had a strange green door at the end. It looked like a front door you would find on a posh house. It had been painted dark green and had a huge brass doorknob in the middle. It was at odds with the other doors in the shop and looked entirely out of place. However, the area around It was free from clutter, making it look like it was in use.

There was a strange noise coming from the door. As I put my ear against it, I could hear street noise from the other side. But if my internal compass was right, this wall backed onto a bookshop behind us. But I could hear cars and the sound of people walking along a street. It was quiet but it was there.

I tried the door handle and it was locked. I felt a draft, tickle my knuckles through the the wide keyhole. Kneeling I peered through and saw what appeared to be an alleyway. There was a brick wall opposite with another door that looked like a fence gate. The sky was pale blue, with no hint of the rain clouds.

"Oi! Ray, there's a customer," Mr Brown shouted making my eyes roll.

I looked back to the keyhole but it was black. The draft had disappeared as well, making me doubt my sanity. I put the door out of my mind as I headed to the front desk.

I noticed over the rest of the day that the temperature in the shop was getting steadily cooler. When I mentioned it to Mr Brown he chucked me a leather jacket and mumbled something about fuel prices.

After lunch, Mr Brown gave me a pad of paper to start doing an inventory, room by room. Since his wife's death, he wasn't sure what he had sold and needed a complete reset.

I started back in the room with the green door. There was something still nagging me about it. I asked Mr Brown and he just shrugged his shoulders.

"It was locked when we got the place, no key, no nothing," he said uninterested.

As I walked past the door I heard that noise again, cars and pedestrians. I knelt I could see the strange ally way beyond. I looked at the brass door handle and saw a symbol embossed on the front. I hadn't noticed it before, it was a clock face without any hands. There were just numbers and a spiral around the centre of the face.

I stood up, and on impulse turned the knob in that direction. I leaned my shoulder into the door, expecting it to be stiff. To my surprise, the door opened quickly and I fell right through it.

I hit the ground hard and felt all the air rush out of my body. My knees took the brunt of the impact as the leather jacket protected my elbows. I had managed to cover my head with my arms, otherwise I would be unconscious or dead. The pain was an intense white pain, that made me feel like throwing up. I lay on the hard ground for a moment with my eyes closed trying the marshal the pain. As I reached out my hands I felt smooth cobbles. Looking around I saw that I was lying in the alleyway I had seen through the keyhole.

I slowly rose to my feet once I had caught my breath. My knees felt wobbly and I reached out to steady myself a the brick wall. My eyes struggled to focus on the bright glare of the burning sun. Shielding my eyes I looked around at the alleyway. I appeared to be between two long terraced streets

Two walls ran the length of the alleyway and curved out of sight to the left. To the right, it ended at a road. I could see cars and people going past. There must be a car convention or something because all the cars looked odd. I could say the same about the pedestrians but then in London, you saw people wearing all sorts. I looked behind me to see that the door I had come through had disappeared. There was just a red brick wall.

My head started to spin as I felt an intense motion sickness creeping up on me. It mingled with the fear and panic. Where the hell was I?

In a panic, I ran to a nearby door and tried to open it but it was locked. I tried a few more but all were bolted. I ran to the street and collided with a man in a suit. He looked very eccentric, wearing bright red trousers and a pale blue jacket.

"Oi watch yourself, mate," the man said steadying me.

I apologized and backed away. Looking around the street, I didn't recognize anything. My Mum had driven up this very street when she dropped me off. Now it was unrecognisable. Where was the vape shop? The Turkish barbers? The fried chicken shop? It had all changed. I ran back down the alleyway trying every door hoping one this was all a dream.

My panic increased as each door I came to was locked. My heart raced as I ran to the next one, a big wooden door with peeling blue paint. I turned the handle just as it swung open and knocked him onto the cobbles. Everything went dark as the back of my head hit the cobbles.

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**Chapter 2: Strangers in the Night. **

"Dam is that the time? Frank's gonna be so mad," Donna said looking at her watch.

"You ok to cover for me Peg?" she asked her sister at the other end of the bar.

Peggy rolled her blue eyes and continued cleaning the glass in her hand. The pub was quiet at the moment, the green leather booths only filled with a handful of locals. It would be quiet like this until the match ended. Then, win or lose, the pub would be bursting at the seams. Grown men drowning their sorrows, or singing into the night.

Donna ran upstairs undoing her modest dress. Shimmying it down her bust as she went. When she got to her room she stripped down her underwear. She was glad she had the foresight to already prepare an outfit, and pull it out of the wardrobe. She quickly slipped on her short polka-dot dress. Admiring herself in the full-length mirror. The dress was her sister's but she didn't mind sharing clothes.

Donna twirled and examined herself in the mirror. The dress reached just above mid-thigh and clung tightly to her hips. She loved how it outlined her pert little breasts and how the deep red colour, complimented her lips. Her shoulder-length chestnut hair was held in place by a white Alice band. She had picked it because it matched her white high heels. She lifted her heel behind her with a bent knee, to see how her rear looked. She playfully slapped her arse cheek, enjoying the way it jiggled when she struck it.

"Where the hell do you think you're going, young lady? Dressed like that," her mum said to her from the doorway.

"Frank is taking me out for lunch up west," Donna said simply. Quickly putting on some gold earrings and a beaded necklace.

"No, you're not. You can't leave your sister down there on her own," her Mum said with hands on her hips.

"Peggy said she's fine. There's no one in at the moment. I'll be back by the time the

match ends," Donnor said as she picked up her purse and headed downstairs.

"If you're Father was here he would give you a bloody good hiding!" shouted her mother following her downstairs.

"Well, he's not. Don't worry Mum, I'll be back later," Donna said.

Looking at her watch again she saw she was already half an hour late. She broke into a run as best she could in heels and flew through the door at the end of the pub courtyard.

Wack! She crashed into the door as something blocked it from opening. She used her shoulder to push the door open and was amazed to two feet blocking the door. A young man was lying out cold on the cobbles in the alley. Blood poured from his head.

"Mum!!" Donna screamed at the top of her lungs.

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I woke up in my soft warm bed. My bedroom was dark and quiet and I was confused as my head thumped. I groaned as I moved my fingers across my forehead, feeling a bandage wrapped around my skull. What had happened? I couldn't remember anything. I started to groan as the dull ache in my head increased.

"Shh it's ok, you're ok," Mum said in a soft voice. I could see her silhouette sitting in a chair, in the corner of the room.

Strangely I didn't recall having a chair in my room. Mum walked over to me and stood by the bed. Her soft warm hand brushed my cheek, and I smelt lavender hand cream, reminding me of my grandma. A scent I hadn't experienced for years.

"Mmhh," I mumbled trying to call out to her.

"It's ok, I'm here. You had a fall but I'm looking after you," Mum said in the dark.

As his mind cleared he realised that it didn't sound like his mum at all. The bed didn't feel like his either.

"I'm just popping the light on to check your bandages," the soft, sweet voice said.

It was so unlike my Mum's that I realised it couldn't possibly be her. The silhouette of the woman leaned over and turned on the lap on my bedside table. The light was blinding and I had to close my eyes.

"Shh it's ok," the voice whispered, as soft hands ran over my bandage.

I reached out and held the warm hand on my cheek. Feeling how incredibly soft it was. Opening my eyes slowly I turned to look at the women. When I saw her I jumped, banging my head on the wooden headboard.

"It's alright. You're ok. You had an accident but you're safe," the girl said, patting my arm.

"Where am I?" I asked looking around the room and realising it wasn't mine.

"In my room, in the Red Lion, just off Manor Road," the girl said with a warm smile.

The girl didn't look much older than I was. She had a gorgeous face with, big brown eyes and red lips. Her brown luscious, hair was shoulder length and held in place with a white hairband. She was dressed in a retro polka-dot dress. Similar to the styles of the ones I saw in Mr. Brown's shop.

"Manor Road? There's no pub on Manor Road. Who are you?" I asked.

I started to remember what had happened and I knew Manor Road well.

"Oh sorry, I'm Donnor, Donnor Brown," the beautiful girl said, putting a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Ok well thanks but I need to...Oh shit," I said as my head felt like splitting open.

"You're not going anywhere Mr until that head gets better. Now you stay here and I'll fetch you something to eat," Donna said tucking the covers around me.

"That's ok, I'm not hungry," I said, trying to not stare at her arse as she walked to the door.

"Nonsense, you must be famished," Donna said with another warm smile as she left.

I looked on the bedside table for my phone before remembering I had left it back at the shop. Looking around the room, reminded me a lot of my Great Gran's house. I had helped clear her house out when she died and it had the same decor. I lay back feeling fatigued as I closed my eyes I drifted off to sleep.

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**Chapter 3: Nightengale. **

"I've called Dr Bedwin. He's popping over to check on the poor lad," Donna's mum Mrs said as her daughter came downstairs.

"He's awake but doesn't seem to know where he is. Bless him," Donna said as she went to the kitchen.

"Has he said anything?" her mother asked.

"Yeah, like why was he skulking around in the back alley?" Peggy asked with a serious look at her mother.

"He wasn't skulking. He was probably just passing through," said Donna glaring at her sister.

"Passing through? It's a dead end, only the locals use it. He don't look local does he?" Peggy said with a questioning look.

Donna had to agree with her sister there. His clothes were normal, not much different to guys his age. But his haircut was far shorter. The sides look like they had been cut with a razor. Perhaps he was in the army? Or the Navy judging by the tattoos on his arm.

She'd only heard of two types of people with tattoos. Sailors or criminals. She had seen a fair few swallows and anchor tattoos on some of the locals. But nothing like Jay had on his arm. She couldn't help studying it whilst he slept. Her fingers trace over the intricate designs and swirling lines. It was amazing, like looking at an illustration in a book.