I found out that she was nineteen years old, younger than Ihad originally thought, and had been living in Oxford for about a year. She hadmoved to be with her boyfriend who was an undergraduate at the university, butthey had split up a few months ago.
Now she was eking out a living working as a beautician at asalon, but was struggling to make ends meet. Although she only had a rentedroom in a shared house, rents in Oxford were prohibitively expensive and shewas considering moving back to her home town, around fifteen miles away, tolive with her mother.
Between us we downed two bottles of wine over lunch, bywhich time Lauren was very much ready to act out her promise from the textmessage. Months of anticipation were welling up inside me as we took a taxiback to her bedsit. Once we were there, I wasn’t disappointed, and thankfully,I’m pleased to say, neither was she.
Despite my age and relative lack of fitness, it seemed I’dstill got it. Maybe it was a little sick, a 51-year-old man having sex with anineteen-year-old, but realistically, how many men of my age would turn downsuch an offer?
After a couple of amazing hours in the sack, she lit up andflicked on the TV, a fairly small and old-fashioned flat-screen model which satatop her chest of drawers.
“Oh, I love this movie,” she exclaimed. “Let’s watch.”
It was one of the old Back to the Future movies ofwhich I was vaguely aware, but hadn’t seen before, at least not in thislifetime. We snuggled up together under the duvet and watched as the leadcharacter jumped back and forth between 1955, 1985 and 2015.
“Wouldn’t it be great if people really could travel intime?” I commented, fully aware of the ironic nature of my statement.
“Oh, they can,” replied Lauren casually, taking me bysurprise. “I should know. I’ve seen it.”
“Really?” I asked, intrigued. “Tell me more,” I said.
“I shouldn’t, to be honest,” she said. “I made a promisewith a group of friends that we’d never talk about it to anyone else.”
“You can’t say something like that and then not elaborate onit,” I said. And then I added: “You know, I may well know more about timetravel than you might suspect. What if I told you that I’d travelled in timemyself?”
“I’d probably think you were making it up,” she said.
For all I knew, she might be making it up as well. But therewas no harm in finding out.
“OK, how about this, then?” I said. “Whether we’re making itup or not, why don’t you tell me your story, and I’ll tell you mine. If it’sall one big fantasy, then what harm can it do?”
“Sounds good to me,” said Lauren. “I like fantasies.”
“I bet you do,” I said. “Come on then, you first.”
And so Lauren told me the tale of how she and her friendshad discovered a Time Bubble in a railway tunnel and how they had used it to jumpforward in time. Although she hadn’t personally travelled through it herself,she’d watched as her friend, who’d mysteriously vanished for two days,reappeared before her very eyes.
She said she had to keep some of the details secret, such asthe time and location where all this had happened. This was for the protectionof someone who was currently travelling inside the Time Bubble. Lack of detailsnotwithstanding, it certainly was an interesting tale.
If it was true, it meant that I was no longer alone in thetime-travelling world. Up until now, I had not told anyone about my ownsituation, firstly because there did not seem a lot of point when they wouldnot remember it the next day, and secondly because I just assumed anyone I toldwould assume I was mad.
So I decided that I would tell Lauren everything. Right fromthe first day when I’d woken up in the hospital bed, all the way back to today,including the fact that I had known for several months that we were destined tomeet as we had done.
She listened intently all the way through, asking occasionalquestions for clarification. When I had finished I asked her what she thought.
“Well,” she replied, “had you told me all this three yearsago, I would have said you were insane. But after what I’ve seen since then, Iguess anything is possible.”
“I wish there was a way I could prove it to you,” Iresponded, “but unfortunately one of the drawbacks of my journey backwardthrough time is I can’t bring anything with me. Otherwise, I could have givenyou a copy of tomorrow’s paper.”
“That’s convenient,” she said, and then added, “I’m onlyjoking – I really would like to believe you.”
Then I remembered something. “OK, there is a way I can proveit. Unfortunately you won’t find out today so it won’t be any good to me, butat least you will know I was telling the truth when it happens.”
“Go on,” she said.
“Right, it’s quite simple really. Oxford United are going towin 4-0 this Saturday,” I said.
“Now I know you’re making it up!” she said, laughing. “Whenwas the last time Oxford managed to win 4-0?”
“I know, and that’s what makes it all the more likely I’mtelling the truth when it happens.” Oxford were currently just above therelegation zone in their division, with little sign of any improvement to come.
“If you know the results of football matches, you should beton them,” remarked Lauren.
“I thought about it once,” I said, “but then I realised itwas pointless as any money I won would be gone the next day. However, nowyou’ve mentioned it, I might sometime, just for the thrill of it. But I amtelling you now, Oxford are going to win 4-0 this Saturday.”
“What are the odds on that?” asked Lauren. “Must be prettygood, don’t you think?”
I didn’t know very much about gambling, so couldn’t reallyanswer her question, but 4-0 seemed a quite unlikely scoreline, especiallywhere Oxford were concerned. “I’ve no idea,” I said, “but they’ve got to begood. I really think you should put a bet on it. You said
