“How did that go, then?” spoke the voice of the angel frombehind him.
Kent turned quickly – too quickly, and winced as a sharp stabbingpain hit him in the side. He felt as if he’d been stabbed, but he knew it wasmore likely that he pinched a nerve or pulled a muscle. This had been happeninga lot lately. Embarrassingly, it had happened most recently on the toilet inthe pub.
The oversized toilet roll had been rammed in so tightly tothe metal holder that it was quite impossible to pull it out without ittearing. After breaking off two or three tiny slivers that couldn’t have wipeda mouse’s arse, he had reached round behind him, stretching to reach a spare toiletroll on the window sill. The strain had sent the same white-hot pain searing throughhim as he felt now.
His anguished yelp of pain on that occasion had attractedattention from the drinkers at the urinals. One of them had asked if he was alright.When Kent had replied that he was, his mate had joked that he probably just hada bad case of piles. Which he had, but he didn’t want them to know that. Bothhad left the toilets laughing.
“Careful,” remarked the angel, a twinkle of amusement in hiseyes. “You’ll do yourself a mischief. You’re not seven years old anymore, youknow.”
And didn’t Kent know it. He felt fat, sluggish and crushedby the full weight of his eighteen stone and forty-two years. He hadn’t realisedhe was in this bad a state but his day back in time had really shown it up. Mentallyhe made a vow to himself that when this was all over, he would have to go on adiet. He wouldn’t need to remind himself, Debs would do that for him. She toldhim often enough. Maybe it would be easier now he wouldn’t be out on the roadin his job. He wouldn’t be constantly tempted by Little Chefs and Burger Kings.
Ignoring the now fading pain, Kent replied to the angel’s originalquestion. “It was amazing. I really felt like I was back there, living it allover again.”
“You really were back there,” replied the angel. “I told you,I can take you to any day in your life that you want to go to. So how do youfeel about things now?”
How did he feel? He thought for a moment before replying. “IfI’m being perfectly honest, just as bad as I did before. I loved being there atthe time but it’s all finished now. All this has really achieved is to remindme how perfect life used to be and then rubbed it in by bringing me back to thedepressing reality of middle age.”
“You’re hardly middle-aged yet, are you?” replied the angel.“Age is all a state of mind. And people are staying young longer than everthese days. Forty is the new thirty, haven’t you heard?”
“I have heard that, yes, but I certainly don’t feel like I’min my thirties,” replied Kent. “If I’m being perfectly honest I feel nearerfifty than thirty. Which, mathematically, I am.”
“Seems like we’ve still got a bit of work to do, then,” repliedthe angel. “Tell me, how did you feel physically when you were back in 1984? Prettygood, I would imagine.”
“Young, happy and full of energy, like I could run foreverand never get out of breath. It was wonderful. Can’t I go back permanently?” heasked hopefully. “I can do things differently this time, live a healthier lifeand make better choices.”
“I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that,” replied the angel. “Ican’t let people go living their lives all over again. If everyone did that we’dall be living in our own pasts and where would that leave the future?”
“Everyone?” asked Kent. “Do you make a habit of doing this sortof thing?”
“Not for everyone, no,” replied the angel. “Only for a veryselect few, mainly people who interest me.”
“And what makes me so special?” asked Kent. “I don’t feel particularlyspecial and no one else seems remotely interested in anything I’ve got to sayor do these days. Are you here to save me because I’m destined for great thingsin the future? Am I going to win the Nobel Peace Prize or be pivotal in somecrucial world-changing event?”
“Nothing so grandiose, I’m afraid,” replied the angel, disappointingly.“I just happened to be in the area looking around, had a bit of spare time onmy hands, saw you down on your luck and thought you looked like a guy whodeserved a break.”
“Well, that’s true enough,” said Kent. “Things have gone abit pear-shaped recently. Before you turned up I was thinking of jumping offthis roof.”
“There you go, then,” retorted the angel. “Lucky I camealong when I did. Now come on, cheer up a bit. You’ve had a brilliant day out revisitingyour childhood, and you’ve got more opportunities to explore your own life tocome. What’s there to be miserable about?”
Kent wasn’t really sure how he felt about all of this. Yes,he was grateful for the angel’s intervention and it had certainly made lifeinteresting again, but he didn’t really know where all of this was headed. Theangel had offered him six trips, but he hadn’t got a clue where he wanted to gonext.
“Don’t worry about that,” said the angel, unexpectedly.
“I didn’t say anything,” replied Kent.
“You didn’t need to. I can read your thoughts, remember?”
Yes, he clearly could. Kent was going to have to rememberthat. And if this angel, or whatever it was, could read thoughts and sendpeople back through time, what else could he do?
“Who exactly are you?” asked Kent.
“Oh, that would be telling,” replied the angel. “I’ve beenknown by many names, but you don’t need to concern yourself with that. Don’t worry,I’m not the devil, you haven’t got to give me your soul or anything.”
“That’s a relief,” remarked Kent. The thought had fleetinglycrossed his mind. When weird stuff like this happened in films, it often turnedout to be the devil. Clearly the angel had picked up on that thought as well. Hedecided to forget about that
