It pleased Kent to see that in the world of ten years’ time,the market was still going strong. It had been difficult enough coping in themodern world of 2018, let alone the future. He had worried that it might be so technologicallyadvanced by now that he would be completely baffled by it.
Seeing the familiar and unchanged shape of the market wasquite comforting. The future was not the alien world he had feared it might be.
From Kent’s view of the street, he could pretty much pinpointhis whereabouts within a house or two. In fact, if the fruit and veg stall wasdirectly below him, realisation swiftly dawned that there was only one place hecould possibly be. It was scarcely too good to believe.
There was only one way to find out. He rushed out of theroom, clad only in his usual bedclothes of T-shirt and Y-fronts and down the ricketyspiral stairs towards the ground floor. He was almost certain he knew where hewas now, as he remembered going upstairs in the building for a drink once, buthe had to see for certain.
He opened the heavy, wooden door at the bottom of the staircase,which was all he needed to confirm his location.
He was in The Red Lion.
To his left, lay the bar. To the right was the restaurant.What was he doing here? There was one very obvious explanation, and he knewjust how to confirm it. He turned left into the bar, past the bemused andvaguely familiar barmaid and straight to the front door, ignoring the chucklesof a group of pensioners who were sitting in the window seats enjoying a morningcoffee.
He opened the front door, went outside, turned around andlooked up. There it was, written on a plate above the door, the glorious confirmationhe had been seeking:
Richard andDeborah Kent.
Licenced to sellall intoxicating liquor for consumption on or off the premises.
So it was true. This was his dream job – running a pub! Theangel wasn’t going to have to worry about him changing this future. He was morethan happy that this was where he was going to end up a decade from now.
He was shaken out of his reverie by the fruit and veg man shoutingover to him, “Have you gone bleedin’ mad, mate? You’ll catch your death.”
Only then did he notice the cold. The sun was low in theearly winter sky and it was decidedly chilly. He went back indoors to find Debswaiting for him.
“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing? Go upstairsand put some clothes on straightaway. I don’t want you parading around likethat in front of the customers, and certainly not in front of Lauren!”
Lauren. That rang a bell. Of course, he thought he had recognisedthe barmaid. He looked up to see an older version of the girl he had not longago seen drinking underage in here. He had advised Craig to take her on as a barmaid.It seemed Kent had followed his own advice.
“Sorry, my love,” said Kent. “I must have been sleepwalkingor something.”
“Just go upstairs and get dressed,” she snapped. “We’ve gotthe first Christmas party of the season booked in tonight and I need you to goto the Cash and Carry for me.”
He went back behind the bar and prepared to head upstairs.Before he did so, he took a quick look at the restaurant on the other side ofthe building. It looked fantastic, decked out with rustic-looking pine chairsand spotless white tablecloths. The places were all set out for the evening,with candles and menus on the table. A blackboard on the wall proudly announced,“Debs’s specials”.
Pan-fried sea basswith lemon butter sauce.
Aberdeen Angus filletsteak in red wine sauce.
He smiled and headed upstairs. This was awesome. He owned a puband Debs had her restaurant, serving far more than mere pub grub. It waseverything both of them could have hoped for.
How had he ended up here? What did it matter, he could workall that out when he got back. He knew Craig was planning to leave. All he had todo was wait until that happened and make sure that it was him and Debs who got totake over.
Happy that their future was assured, he returned to the bedroomto get dressed. He was very much looking forward to playing landlord for theday.
The end…but the story continues in the sequel, RockBottom, told from Kay’s perspective.
Rock Bottom
Chapter One
December 2018
Kay was so drunk that she practically fell out of the frontdoor of the pub. Just about managing to stay upright, she instinctivelyclutched at the clasp of her small, black, leather bag, desperate for a smoke.
It was chucking-out time at The Red Lion on a bitterly coldDecember night. The wind was howling all around her as she tottered around onher cheap high heels in a forlorn attempt to light her cigarette.
Cursing as the wind extinguished each attempt in a fractionof a second, she made for the doorway of the shop next door to seek someshelter. Cupping her hands around her mouth as she leant into the doorway, shefinally managed to get the damned thing lit at the ninth time of asking.
Turning, she began to make her way along the town’s mainstreet, brightly lit by the same gaudy old Christmas lights that the council putup every year. There were drunken revellers everywhere, celebrating finishingwork for the holidays. It was the last Friday night before Christmas, a nightthat she had heard the landlord of the pub refer to earlier in the evening as“Mad Friday”.
A group of sexy young women dressed up in Santa outfitspassed her by, laughing, followed by a group of young men, clearly hopeful ofsome action. They would all doubtless be heading for the town’s only nightclub,keen to continue the festivities, but Kay had had enough. She had sufferedenough humiliation for one night already.
Things had not gone well in her attempts to chat up variousmen in the pub and she couldn’t face the likelihood of more rejection in theclub commonly referred to by the locals as the “last chance saloon”. It wassaid that if you couldn’t pull
