Second Chance

Chapter One

She holds her head in her hands. "What the hell?" She whispers to herself as she surveys her surroundings. An unfamiliar pub and she is on the floor. She hears the sound of a television, and a man announcing the date, the 16th of March 1975. "1975? Must be an old television show."

"Ma'am are you alright," the voice is familiar.

She smiles, "Ma'am you're older than I," she looks up and is very much surprised at the sight before her; she is taken aback, "Gerry?"

"Yes my name's Gerry. Do I know you?" He asks as he helps her to her feet.

"Gerry, stop messing about. It's me Sandra."

He frowns slightly, then winks at her, "Sandra, well hello Luv."

"No you stupid sod…." She stares at the young man with Gerry's voice.

He hikes up his pants, "Don't have to call me names, I was only trying to help."

Sandra waves her hand in the air, "Yes of course, I'm sorry."
I've only seen one photo of Gerry as a young man and oh my God, "I'm just a little confused," she whispers.

"What?"

"Nothing," she shakes her head. "Nothing." She once again scans the room, "Where," she clears her throat, "I mean, what is the name of this pub?" She lowers her head, painfully aware of her unusual question. "And," she hesitates, "How did I end up on the floor?"

"The Old Trout, and I don't know, I was just coming back from the loo and well, there you were." She moves with shaky legs, he gently takes her arm, steadying her. He has seen many drunken people in his life and she is not one. "You fancy a drink or should I call you a cab?"

"A drink?" She shakes her head, Am I drunk now? "No," she says aloud.

"No, for a drink or the cab?" He asks.

"No, ah yes alright I'll have a…."

He interjects, "White wine, am I right?"

She has to smile at the young man, 1975 Gerry would be what? she calculates the dates in her mind....25. She lowers her gaze for a moment.

"Maybe I should just call you a cab." He takes a step back.

She reaches out and grabs his arm, "No, no I'm all right white wine would be lovely, thank you."

Once again, he takes a gentle hold of her arm, "Come on then, lets sit at a table." He leads her to a table for two. He releases his hold as she sits down, "Be right back."

"Thanks Gerry." He flashes a quick smile and she smiles in return. Ok, she rubs her forehead. What the hell is going on? She goes through the events of the day. Woke up, went to work, went to the pub and then, then what? I wake up on the floor of a pub that went out of business and Gerry sounds like Gerry but looks like a kid. It's a dream, that's all. A dream, the most vivid dream I have ever had. She looks around the room, Why do I get the feeling that I'm wide awake and...

"Here you go," his voice interrupts her thoughts. He sets the glass before her as he sits in the seat across from her.

He takes a quick sip of ale, "So Sandra, do you have a last name?"

"Pullman, Sandra Pullman."

"I'm Gerry…."

"Standing," She interjects, "I know."

He leans forward, "Exactly how is it that you know me, but I don't know you?"

She ignores his question and answers him with a question of her own, "Are you a cop?"

"For a few years now, how did you know that?"

"Do you know?" she hesitates, "Gordon Pullman?"

As he sits back in the chair he raises the pint to his lips, repeating the name aloud, "Pullman, Pullman…ah no, is he your husband?"

"No he's my fath…." She looks up and the frown on his face is not a surprise to her. "No he's my fathers' cousin." Good cover Sandra, she thinks to herself.

"He's a copper, is that it? And you think we all know one another."

"No," she picks up her glass filled with wine, "No, just making conversation."

He lifts the pint filled with ale to his lips, "Sorry I snapped, been a bad day, week, month, ah shit….sometimes I think I should just quit now."

"Don't do that," she says with an air of confidence. "Things will get better, you'll see."

He leans forward, "You sound very sure of yourself Sandra Pullman," he sets the pint down softly on the table. "Like you know for sure."

She chuckles slightly, I am. "I ah, once thought of being a police officer myself but ah….are you married?"

"No, you?"

"No, career keeps me busy."

"What career is that?"

She quickly picks up her glass and takes a long slow sip, think of something boring, something you know Gerry would not be interested in, "I run a training company specializing in creative problem solving." She continues "I was engaged once but I broke it off, he became too possessive."

"I understand," nodding his head slowly, "Met a bloke like that a few months ago, only he beat her up so bad that her own mother barely recognized her. He sat in jail for about a week then was let go, yesterday," he exhales loudly, "He found out where she was living and beat her again....only this time no one called the cops….it was too late." He looks up into her eyes, "She was dead."

Sandra places her hand over his, "I understand." She remembers him telling her that story one night, it upset him very much even in 2009.

He smiles slightly, "Yeah I think you do." He hits the table with his fist, "Alright, enough of that, fancy a dance?"

"What?"

He stands, "You know," he wiggles his hips and she chuckles warmly at the sight. He holds out his hand, "Come on."

The first song they danced was fast the next one starts slow and as he pulls her closer to him, he can feel her stiffen up, "I won't bite."

"Sorry," she shakes her body in an attempt to loosen up. She takes his hand.

"If you'd rather not dance, it's alright."

She rests her head on his shoulder, "No Gerry I'm enjoying this a great deal, you're a marvelous dancer."

"Alright then," he twirls her around the floor with ease and she follows him as if they have danced together many times before. Each time he spins her and brings her back she finds herself returning closer and closer to him.

She raises her head to ask him a question and the sound of the door opening causes her to hesitate. She stops dancing and stares at the figure of a man, a very familiar figure. "Oh my God," she exclaims then immediately covers her mouth.

Gerry turns his head to follow her gaze, he looks back at her and her face is ashen, "Sandra," he lowers his head to catch her eye, "Are you alright?"

More to come

Later

The Mominator