Step Back in Time (31 page)

I read the letter through twice, then I stare out of the window at the streets of Liverpool as the taxi whizzes past, but I don’t really see anything.

Now I know what George was to me. Now I understand why he was so evasive at times and at others knew so much. I find myself smiling as a warm feeling spreads right through me. George was right; I’ve found my truth.

I pull all the other items from my bag that I’ve collected on my travels, along with the records George left for me – ‘Eleanor Rigby’ and ‘All You Need Is Love’.

I not only knew about George now, but I knew what all these strange little items meant too: they were all linked together by one Beatles song, ‘Eleanor Rigby’. I had all the clues Molly had talked about at the graveside, all except for love. All I needed was love to complete the set.

Wait, I think… All I need is Love. Love is all I need?

That’s it! That’s what George’s second record is about. My final clue to help me piece together everything that has happened…

It’s love, and, hopefully, I’m going to find it at Eleanor Rigby’s statue.

The busy Saturday traffic means our journey begins to slow as we get nearer to the city centre again. I wriggle about in the back seat of the taxi, desperate to get out and solve this mystery once and for all. I’m utterly convinced now that Eleanor Rigby will finally provide me with all the answers I need.

‘Is it far from here?’ I ask the taxi driver as we queue up at a zebra crossing. Bane of my life those things, I think, watching all the Saturday shoppers and tourists covering the crossing while the beacons flash.

‘Just around the corner as the crow flies, love, ’ he says, ‘but by road at this speed, good few minutes yet.’ He looks at me in his rear-view mirror jigging about in the back like I’m bursting for the loo. ‘You’d be quicker to walk it, if yer in a hurry, like.’

‘You know what, I think I’ll do that,’ I say, thrusting some money at him and jumping from the cab.

‘Just over there,’ he points through his windscreen. ‘There’s a Portaloo just over the road there, in case yer desperate.’

‘Thanks,’ I say, looking in the direction of Stanley Street. ‘Thanks a lot.’

I wait at the crossing with all the other people for the beacons to begin flashing orange. When they do I step out confidently with everyone else, making sure I keep in the centre of the crowd. There is no way a runaway car is going to screech round the corner here and knock me down. It would have to take out at least five other people first.

But as I get to the centre of the crossing, something does make me want to stop, but it’s not the threat of a car about to knock me flying that makes me want to turn around and go the other way, it’s the sight of someone coming towards me who I recognise.

Lucy.

As she passes opposite me in the crowd of people hurrying across the black and white stripes, I turn to try and follow her, but trying to fight my way through the sea of carrier bags and Beatles T-shirts is impossible. The tide is just too strong. As the waves deliver me safely on to the far pavement, I immediately turn around to look for her, but the traffic has begun to flow again now, and she’s already been swallowed up into the swarm of people moving along the pavement opposite.

I stand completely still with my mind racing, while people bump and barge into me. That was Lucy I just saw walking over the crossing. Lucy, my time-travelling friend from 1985. That was incredible enough, but what bothered me even more was that Lucy was wearing a sandwich board strapped across her chest, with the words
Ticket to Ride: Beatles Bus Tours
emblazoned across both sides.

Lucy had only worn that sandwich board for one day, she’d told me, the day she got hit by Harry in his sports car. So if Lucy is wearing a sandwich board, and this is 2013, that means that Harry can’t be too far away either.

I have to get to the statue. And fast.

I don’t take a lot of notice of the many tourists and buskers as I hurry along Matthew Street and into Stanley Street; my mind is only focused on one thing, getting to the statue. This is it; I know it. Eleanor Rigby is going to answer all my questions and help me save Lucy. She has to.

As I expect, there are a few people having photos taken next to Eleanor when I arrive. The statue is a bronze figure of a woman sitting alone on a stone bench, with a tiny bronze bird resting next to her. I wait for the people to move on before I hurry forward to take a closer look.

The plaque behind her head reads:

Is this it? I wonder desperately, looking around me for something more. This is a bit like the gravestone all over again. But Eleanor’s presence seems to be having a calming effect on me; I can feel my heartbeat, which has been racing at a speed it’s only ever gone at when I’ve overdosed on caffeine before, beginning to slow as I sit down next to her on the stone bench where she rests.

I take a deep breath and reflect on the inscription behind me, think about all the different people I met on my travels into the past, remember all the people who’d been stuck in different time zones, just like me: Walter Maxwell, my overbearing boss; Stu, my teenage punk friend; Lucy the waitress, and Billy the cross-dressing pub singer. They were all lonely in their own way, because of their attitude, their circumstance, or their own choice. Many of the other people I met had reason to be lonely too, I realise now, like Penny, the single mother; Martha, our cake-baking neighbour; even Patti, the wife Harry had fallen out of love with. So many people, so many reasons to be lonely.

And then there were my Eleanor Rigby clue-bearers. They weren’t lonely necessarily, but they had the ever-present Beatles link. How had I not noticed at the time that they were called John, George, Ringo and Paul?

But what of this fifth clue, the love clue? The sonnets Desmond and Molly told me about – even those two names were from a Beatles’ song, I now realise. In fact, I think, did
every
person I’ve come into contact with have a Beatles-related name? There are just too many to try and remember right now, but there are a few obvious ones, like Penny, Stuart, Julian, Rita, Lucy, and even the children I taught in the school.

‘So, Eleanor?’ I ask, looking at the faceless statue next to me. ‘What do I do now? Any suggestions? I could do with a bit of help. It’s quite lonely, just the two of us sitting here, isn’t it?’

Then out of the corner of my eye I see a tall, slim figure walking towards us down Stanley Street. He has dark hair, and he’s wearing jeans and a white cotton shirt, and, as he gets closer I can just see, in the bright afternoon sunshine, a pair of dazzling blue eyes.

I tap Eleanor on the hand. ‘Thank you,’ I whisper to her. ‘Now I know I won’t be lonely any more.’

As Harry gets closer I call out to him.

‘Jo-Jo! What on earth are you doing here?’ Harry looks genuinely pleased, and I’m glad he remembers me.

‘Not much, just enjoying Eleanor’s company for a bit,’ I say truthfully.

Harry looks at the statue. ‘Do you know, I’ve walked past here loads of times when I’ve been in Liverpool before and I’ve never noticed this statue. It’s quite tucked away, isn’t it?’

‘Maybe she doesn’t like to be noticed too often. Maybe she prefers it that way.’

‘Quite possibly,’ Harry agrees. ‘Some people prefer to go through life unnoticed. Sometimes it’s better that way.’

‘Yes,’ I say, considering this, ‘they do, don’t they? So,’ I look up at him, ‘what are you doing here? Are you based in Liverpool now?’

‘No, I’m just here on some business.’ He sits down on the bench next to me. ‘Actually,’ he says, ‘just between the two of us that’s not the only reason – it’s because of this, too.’ He holds up a brown envelope. ‘It’s all a bit odd, to be honest. This was delivered to my office in London some months ago – January, I think, and the note inside said I should come to this statue, on this very afternoon at about this time, and I should bring the contents of the envelope with me. It’s all very strange.’

I look down at the envelope in his hand. It’s addressed to a Mr Harrison Rigby.
Of course he’s a Harrison, not just a Harry. That makes sense now as well. Harry is a Beatle too.

‘Nothing surprises me any more, Harry. I bet I can even guess what’s in your envelope?’

‘I bet you can’t!’

‘Let me see… would there be some sonnets of love in there by any chance?’

Harry looks at me in amazement. ‘How on earth do you know that? That’s exactly right. The love sonnets of Shakespeare.’

‘I told you, never be surprised by anything or anyone. Of all the things I’ve learnt recently, that’s definitely one of them.’

‘What do you mean?’ Harry asks, looking at me quizzically. ‘What’s going on here?’

Before I can change my mind, and with Eleanor watching over us, I take my chance, lean forward and kiss him. And as a wonderful warm feeling spreads through my body, from my lips right down to the tips of my toes, nothing prevents us this time, this year, and this decade, from fully enjoying our moment.

‘Right…’ Harry says slowly when I’ve finished. ‘I see. I think I can definitely live with that type of surprise.’ He grins. ‘What’s changed about you, Jo-Jo, you seem… different?’

I’m aware my cheeks are still flushed from the kiss. ‘I am. I’m a changed person. Certain recent events have taught me a lot about myself and about the person I want to be in the future. I don’t want to be the person I was in the past. Hopefully, that Jo-Jo is gone for ever.’

Harry looks at me and takes my hand.

‘The past isn’t always a bad place,’ he says seriously, ‘we can learn a lot from it.’

‘I know. And I have. I’ve learnt what’s important in life – to appreciate my time, my family, my friends, and…’

‘And what?’ Harry asks.

‘… other things.’ My cheeks flush a little again.

Harry nods approvingly. ‘Good, then it was very definitely worthwhile.’

‘What was?’ I ask him. ‘What was worthwhile, Harry, tell me?’

‘Excusee, we take photo with statue now?’ Some tourists interrupt us as they wait for their turn with Eleanor.

‘Come on,’ Harry says, standing up, still holding on to my hand, ‘would you like to see the business I was talking about before? It’s not far from here. It’s a little shop, a bit like Groovy Records.’ His face is immediately filled with sadness when he mentions George’s shop.

‘I know,’ I say, squeezing his hand, ‘I just found out myself. But George had a good life.’

‘Yeah,’ Harry takes hold of my other hand now, then he lifts them up in between us, ‘and he brought us two together, didn’t he?’

I glance at the envelope Harry now has tucked into the pocket of his trousers. He certainly did. George must have sent that clue to Harry before he died too, just like my records and my letter. He was determined to see the two of us together eventually.

‘Yes, we have much to thank George for.’

‘We certainly have.’ Harry nods knowingly. ‘I’m sure he’s up there somewhere looking down on us.’

‘I know he is,’ I say with certainty.

‘Say goodbye to Eleanor, then,’ Harry says, turning back to look at the statue. ‘It seems she also may have played her part in finally bringing the two of us together.’

‘Yes,’ I agree. ‘She certainly did. Goodbye, Eleanor,’ I wave at her. ‘I hope you don’t stay lonely too long.’

We leave the statue and walk hand in hand back down Stanley Street, then along Matthew Street, where the buskers and Beatles imitators are out in force in front of the Cavern Club on this Saturday afternoon.

‘The shop isn’t far from here,’ Harry says. ‘It’s a nice little place; I think you’ll like it. I could do with picking up my car, though; I really should have collected it from the parking meter by now. The time will have run out ages ago and I don’t want to get a ticket.’

‘No!’ I insist as we stop at a zebra crossing. ‘No, you mustn’t drive your car this afternoon!’

Harry looks at me oddly. ‘Why on earth not?’

‘Because – it’s a lovely day,’ I say, and gesture up at the blue sky above us. ‘We should make the most of this beautiful weather while we can!’

‘It’s OK, it’s a soft-top Audi TT,’ he says. ‘We can have all the fresh air we like.’

‘No,’ I insist again. ‘I really would rather we walk.’

‘You are one strange cookie sometimes, Jo-Jo,’ Harry says, shaking his head. ‘However, I can let you off that because when you kiss,’ he winks, ‘you kiss like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do!’

I smile nervously at him.
If only you knew, Harry
…

‘In fact, maybe if you show me again now how good you are at it, I might be persuaded that walking is a good idea after all.’

I lean up and begin to kiss Harry again very slowly, and as I do, out of the corner of my eye I see a girl wearing a sandwich board stepping lightly over the zebra crossing behind us. She’s texting on an iPhone while wearing a pair of earphones and listening to music, and she really isn’t thinking about what she’s doing at all. A car has to screech to a halt to allow her to cross safely – and Lucy doesn’t even appear to notice it as she ambles over to our side of the road and continues on her way.

I pull away from Harry, my heart racing.

‘Wow! My kisses have never had that much of an effect on anyone before!’ he grins. ‘What’s wrong, Jo-Jo?’ he asks, suddenly becoming serious. ‘You’ve gone very pale.’

I’ve done it! At last I’ve actually prevented someone from being stuck in a time they didn’t want to be in. I stopped Harry from hitting Lucy with his car, and I’ve prevented her from travelling to a year where she’d be lonely and alone. I’ve saved her. I’ve saved my friend.

‘It’s nothing,’ I say, my words belying my euphoria. ‘It’s absolutely nothing.’ I look up at Harry who is gazing at me with concern. ‘I love you, Harry,’ I say suddenly. ‘I know that might seem sudden to you. But really it isn’t, I’ve known for ages. Years. Decades even. But I’ve only just realised it.’

For a second I think Harry is going to run a mile; I mean, that’s what he should do. Even though I’ve known him for ages, as far as he’s concerned we’ve only really just met. But to my relief he doesn’t, he just smiles.

‘I love you too, Jo-Jo, and
I’ve
known for decades too.’

‘You have?’

‘Of course,’ he says as though it was never in doubt. ‘Anyone that can love me with blue hair must be all right,’ he winks.

But
…

‘Come on, you,’ Harry calls, stepping out onto the crossing and pulling my hand. ‘There’s no traffic around and we need to cross. Look, if you don’t hurry up I won’t let you listen to any more Take That records, and that would be a real shame now, eh?’ He’s grinning at me now.

‘But… how could you know about that?’ I ask, confused, as I allow him to lead me onto the crossing. All the times I’ve known Harry in the past suddenly flash through my mind, like photo-fits in a police line-up.

‘I know more than you think,’ Harry says. ‘Trust me.’

Suddenly, as we reach the centre of the crossing, I see it hurtling towards us like it always does, the white sports car.

I brace myself, knowing what’s going to happen next. I can’t believe this, just when Harry and I are finally together. But instead of feeling cold the way I usually do, all I feel is a sharp pain shoot through my right arm as Harry yanks me by the hand away from the crossing towards the pavement.