A bridge over the river Thames, 3am 5th May 1946
Gary sat on the bridge looking down at the water far down below. He had never been a good swimmer, even if he panicked and changed his mind it wouldn't take long before it was all over. It was nice, completely fool proof; it was the middle of the night so no passer-by would be there to interfere, just a little push to get him over the edge. The tears stung his eyes as the cold May breeze cut through him, it was so exposed out in the middle of the river, Gary shivered and felt a sharp pain go up his back as his muscles tensed against the cold.
Another troubled night had brought him here at last. It had been the Xavier nightmare followed by a crippling loneliness as he stared at the walls he knew Xavier would look at too, many years in the future; the walls he had just seen explode into dust. He couldn't do it anymore, Reg tried his best but he couldn't break through to him and make it better. There was no way Reg could ever know enough to help. Reg and Margie just about managed the club on their own now, when he found he was the one making the most mistakes he had withdrawn from that part of his life too.
Gary supposed that he was lucky; if this had been the 1990s his friends would have sent him off to a psychologist by now. If they'd managed to get the truth out of him then he would have then been subjected to much worse. All Reg could do was say, 'cheer up Gary lad' with a desperate look and a wistful glance at Margie. He felt guilty that they had to put up with him like this, yes, better he ended it for all their sakes.
He had spent months without a soul to talk to, now he was truly alone and on the edge maybe he could speak his troubles now. No, ever the Brit, he would feel foolish talking to the wind. Everything that had prevented him from opening up to Phoebe when it could have made a difference choked him now. There was only one place left to go, rather like a time portal in a way but very strictly a one-way street.
He had walked all the way, no public transport at this hour anyway; he had wanted to give himself plenty of time to think about it, see if the feeling of inevitability would wear off at all. No doubts had shadowed his mind and when he reached the bridge he found it easy to pick his spot and climb up onto the edge. Again, he gave himself time to think, stopped himself from doing it immediately. He had looked down and imagined the cold and the dark engulfing him and envisaged himself taking a voluntary deep breath of water, letting it flood right down inside him. He did so again and felt at peace with the thought; just one push and it would be a reality.
"The Thames in May Gary?" a voice that was shocking and at once familiar spoke out of the darkness, cutting through his thoughts, "That'll be cold."
Gary spun round nearly hurling himself into the water anyway. It couldn't be, could it? He couldn't see anybody standing nearby, it must be his mind and memories playing tricks, he thought.
"Who's there?" Gary demanded with an edge to his voice, did whoever was in charge really send messengers to take the ghosts of the dead to their destination, had he missed his own death? Was he perhaps at this very moment floating in the Thames breathing in the water and letting it swamp his lungs? Had he really heard Ron's voice mocking his suicide as if he was still his best friend?
As Gary looked wildly around a man stepped away from an iron girder and out of shadow. Gary immediately recognised Ron but did not register his advanced years in the surprise of the moment.
"You're not a ghost?" Gary asked.
"No, don't worry Gary mate, alive and well; just found myself a time portal and thought I would pop by and say hello," Ron replied in a ridiculously cheerful and casual tone.
"What are you doing here?" Gary demanded in a voice that indicated that he was annoyed rather than scared to hell and not entirely convinced about Ron's status as a real person.
"Following you, what are you doing here?" Ron quickly retorted.
"What does it look like?" Gary snapped, "Leave me alone."
"Suicide, Gazza mate, that's what it looks like. Are you about to explain it differently?" Ron waited while he expected Gary's answer and when he remained silent he continued, "You won't do it." He added.
"I was just about to slip off the edge when you came along actually," Gary replied like a schoolboy who had just been mocked by a peer.
"You won't do it." Ron repeated stepping towards him.
Gary panicked, so much for not getting an interfering passer-by, Ron was totally destroying his sense of purpose. "Stay back or I will jump." He warned.
"Then I'll have to jump in there after you," Ron challenged, "And it does look very cold down there."
Gary cursed under his breath and looked skyward as the tears came to his eyes again. It was just typical that somebody would suddenly take an interest just at the point that he decided he had had enough.
"Why should the cold matter to me?" He asked, "I live in the cold, I have no heart for it anymore," He added with a conviction that surprised Ron enough to make him take a step back, "Don't stop me doing this just to leave me." Gary added.
"I won't leave you," Ron said with haste, "Just come down off the ledge."
"You have to leave, you know you do."
"Not yet Gary, not for a while," Ron continued moving a little closer again, "Aren't you just a little bit curious about what I might have to tell you?"
Gary looked a little closer at Ron, taking his time to appraise the man before him. Obviously Ron had come through to him from a time before he had met Xavier. Gary knew that Ron had been dead by 2052. He was very old but retained a certain vitality that Gary would find hard to beat. Gary was finding it very difficult to age him in the dim light. Xavier would definitely be his son by now, Gary thought. If he came off the edge, conversation was going to be strange and awkward with Gary knowing what he did but he couldn't resist hearing Ron's side of it.
Xavier's words came back to him again; he and Phoebe would be all right. By no stretch of the imagination could that be true any longer. Perhaps everything had changed. The urge to talk to Ron was strong; he would just have to be very very careful.
"OK, I'll talk to you," Gary conceded.
Ron's face lit up at Gary's words, a lump of emotion grew in Gary's throat at the sight. He never had showed Ron his appreciation. Ron approached him and against his wishes Gary started to see only the parts of him that reminded him of Xavier, tears blurred his sight.
"Take my hand." Ron said compassionately holding his hand out to Gary.
Ron's accent had softened over the years; it was unbearable to hear it. Gary hesitated at the gesture; Ron had been living in a society that promoted same sex relationships, for how long though?
"Take my hand." Ron commanded in a firmer tone.
Gary placed his hand in Ron's and felt the fingers grip firmly round it.
"Now get yourself off the edge of this bridge." Ron continued leaning in closer pulling him towards him encouragingly, "And Gary?" he added.
"What?" Gary responded dreading the way the conversation was going, feeling the proximity.
"I am not Leonardo di Caprio and you are no Kate Winslet, so don't slip now, will you?"
Gary snorted a grim laugh before he realised and withdrew his hand again as the sadness caught him immediately afterwards.
"Come on Gary." Ron pleaded.
"He saves her only to die and leave her again." Gary said turning back towards the river.
"Come back to my hotel with me and tell me what brought you here, then I will bring you back and push you off myself, deal?"
"Hotel? I thought you said you just popped by?" Gary observed.
"That's my Gaz," Ron said affectionately rubbing a hand up and down his back, "Come on." Ron offered Gary his hand again.
Gary scrambled off onto the safe path with ease though once he was standing in front of Ron he felt a bit awkward. Fortunately Ron was prepared to take the lead for the time being.
"Why don't we go find something to eat before you tell me what happened?" Ron suggested, "It doesn't look like it's been an easy ride."
"There's not a crumb to be had in all of London." Gary reminded him.
"Oh how soon you forget, Gary Sparrow," Ron said with glee, "What power the time traveller wields." Ron produced a nice thick handful of white fivers and a pristine ration book from his suit pocket, promising Gary the first decent meal he had had in a year.
"You get the food, I'll get the drinks," Gary offered remembering that alcohol was going to be banned. He wondered if that had happened to Ron yet, from the look on his face Gary rather thought it had.
"I thought you would never ask," Ron said leading the way across the bridge and on to The Ritz.
A suite at The Ritz, London,, 4am 5th May 1946
The restaurant was closed with it being so late and Ron headed straight for a very nice suite. Gary was quiet, he was stunned to silence and traumatised by the events of the night; half of him was still on the bridge wanting to jump. Ron picked up the phone by the bed and put on a very posh accent to order room service. When he was done he smiled at Gary.
"I've been practising," he said proudly, "Not going to make a pigs ear of it this time."
Gary hadn't heard what Ron had ordered; his thoughts were hurling right out to sea and back again with an alarming swing.
"You followed me all the way from Mayfair to the bridge?" Gary asked as he suddenly thought of the question.
Ron let the smile fade from his face, "Yes, I did." He answered.
"Why? Why didn't you come to the apartment yesterday at a more social hour?"
"I didn't just pop by, I had a reason for coming." Ron started.
"Even so."
Ron sighed, "Gary, I'm from the future, what does that say to you?"
"I don't know." Gary replied more from an unwillingness to think than anything else.
"Curiosity got the better of me about six months ago, I went looking for what had happened to you and I found it." Ron continued anyway.
"Oh." Gary said to show his understanding.
"So, I went all over looking for a portal that would let me through."
"And here you are." Gary said.
Ron stood and approached Gary; he laid a hand on his arm, "Are you OK now?" He asked, "I hope you haven't got any ideas about throwing yourself out of the window?"
Gary shook his head grimly, "I always did prefer the bridge."
"Good," Ron smiled weakly, "Food will be here soon."
"You've changed," Gary observed suddenly, "You dealt with the bridge thing so well."
"Been around a lot of years Gaz, seen a lot of things; dealt with my fair share of depression, just know how to handle things like that now."
Gary felt a surge of guilt well up inside, surely he was talking about Yvonne or even maybe himself. Ron saw it with his wise perception.
"Not everything is your fault Gary," he commented, "I lot of it but not all."
"But you knew I wouldn't do it," Gary added, "You said so."
Ron observed him gravely, "Gary, I came back to change what I knew, if I could."
"What?"
"What I did was obtain your death certificate, I thought I was going to find that you'd died of old age in California or something." Ron explained, "I found instead that you hadn't. Gary, I was just saying things to get you to come down, I never doubted that you would do it, I knew that you had."
Gary was plunged once more into silence, what other person had to deal with this kind of thing. Past, future, what could be the past, what might be the future; just when you thought you had it sussed everything changed into a different uncertainty.
"I can't stay long," Ron said reading Gary's thoughts, "Just long enough to talk this through to the other side, nobody else can do it can they?"
"No, you're the only one, you always were." Gary admitted.
"So, speak to me Gary, tell me all about it."
Gary's throat clenched, he wished that he could tell all; he would just have to tell all that he could.
"How far did you research?" Gary asked, "How much do you know?"
"This isn't about me knowing things," Ron said shaking his head, "This is about you talking about it, just tell me."
"There isn't much Ron, she, Phoebe, she died. We had an argument; she took Michael, walked a few streets on her way home and stepped out in front of a bus. Everything since then has been getting out of bed each morning and not knowing why, fighting the guilt all day long."
"Guilt? Wasn't your fault." Ron commented.
Gary put his head in his hands, "I was a nightmare to live with after the portal closed, and I never thought that I didn't have all the time in the world. I couldn't adjust, for the first time it was just dreary war and endless rationing." And, Gary thought, no Xavier.
There was a knock on the door and Gary jumped out of his skin as he always did now. Ron rose to let room service in; they would postpone their conversation for a little while.
Gary stared in awe as Ron removed the covers on a number of different platters each one piled high. A bottle of whisky stood in the middle. Ron handed two glasses to Gary.
"Do the honours," He said.
It was a very nice bottle of whisky and Gary poured them both a hefty glassful. They both ate in silence, Gary savouring every mouthful.
"Doesn't help that you're half starved," Ron commented as Gary finished off the last of the food washing it down with a big mouthful of liquor, "Or that you haven't slept in weeks."
Gary looked up with surprise, how had Ron become so perceptive all of a sudden. He corrected himself, it wasn't very sudden at all; forty years of Ron's life had passed at least. He started to feel overwhelmed again. Gary was sat on a couch now and Ron came to join him there. Gary noticed for no reason at all that Ron was a bit thinner than he used to be. Gary's hands rested on his knees, Ron gently took his right hand and then held it firmly. Gary tensed, wondering what Ron meant by it.
"Relax Gary," Ron said with some amusement making Gary feel embarrassed.
"Things are just turning out to be different, for me it's only been a year." Gary defended.
"Yes, I know Gary," Ron said softly, "And I'm an old man who needs his sleep, so I'm going to give you something that will give you some rest too."
Gary tensed again in anticipation of where it might be leading only Ron laid his hand back on his knee and leant over the side of the couch. He brought up a briefcase and undid the catch. Everything inside was contained in individual paper bags so he couldn't identify any of the other contents. Ron took out a bag that contained a strip of blister packed pills.
"You won't have come across these, even in 1990s, but they will give you a night's peace from the nightmares." Ron said offering the pills to Gary.
"How did you know I have nightmares?" Gary asked reaching out for the pills gladly.
"The haunted look on your face," Ron answered simply, "Feet up," he commanded.
Gary obeyed and laid himself on the couch as Ron stood up. Under Ron's instruction he washed down two of the pills with the remaining whisky. Gary snuggled down onto the couch feeling almost immediately drowsy, a blanket was placed over him and for the first time in a very long time he drifted calmly to sleep.
Once he was sure Gary was asleep Ron stroked his cheek with his hand, "And in the morning," Ron spoke to his long lost friend, "You can tell me the bits you missed out."
A suite at The Ritz, London, midday 5th May 1946
Gary woke to find he was in a rather luxurious hotel room lying on the couch. At first he did not remember what had happened and why he was there, his head for some reason was unclear and didn't want to think. For a minute he just lay feeling more relaxed and rested than he had been in months. This was an odd feeling and he ran through his mind the events of the previous day, forcing himself to make sense of it. First of all he identified that he was at The Ritz, he recognised the décor from the last visit he had made with Phoebe.
The thought of Phoebe led him onto remembering the despair that had driven him to make a trip to the bridge. Then he remembered climbing up and getting ready to jump off and Ron stepping out of the darkness. Then Ron was sitting beside him on the same couch he still occupied after walking him across London. Ron, who was old but still had the vitality to match him physically; Ron, who must still be in a hotel room with him, the friend he never thought he would see again. Gary suddenly sat up in shock only to come face to face with Ron, who was quietly regarding him from his seat on the big double bed.
"Good morning Gary," Ron said cheerfully, "Feeling better?"
"Better than what?" Gary responded grimly. Strangely he did feel a lot better; somehow the heaviness in his heart had eased slightly but he couldn't quite make his words convey it.
"I've ordered breakfast," Ron said eagerly.
Gary remembered how he had promised himself that he wouldn't take Ron for granted this time.
"Before we go any further I want to say thank you," Gary started, "For all you've done, I should have said it years ago."
Ron silently accepted the demonstration of appreciation; it wasn't an exchange they had ever got used to having.
"I do feel a lot better now," Gary added.
"The only way to exorcise the demons for good is to work through them."
"I don't know." Gary said hesitating.
Ron came off the bed and settled himself on the couch with Gary. It made Gary feel very nervous.
"You have too strong a feeling of guilt for the argument you had with Phoebe to be just a little domestic, just tell me Gary." Ron insisted. "What makes you feel so guilty?"
Gary froze, this was getting too close and he didn't know how he could pull out of it. The breakfast arrived but this was only a minor distraction to Ron who was on a mission and was immovable. Ron handed him a cup of coffee but then took his remaining hand in his and held it firmly.
"You can tell me that Phoebe died because you know that I know about that already, just pretend that I know all about everything, I am from the future after all." Ron persisted.
He wanted to confess everything to Ron, without doing so he knew he would just end up back on the bridge. The urge to break down was so strong but there was no way he could ever do so. Gary snatched his hand away from Ron and jumped to his feet, rushing to the window to gain some privacy. "I can't," he said as calmly as he could but his voice sounded strange even to him. The glare of the midday light hurt his eyes and he suddenly felt dizzy and light-headed, he reached out to the windowsill to steady himself.
Ron came to his side "It's just the pills I gave you." Ron explained, he reached an arm round Gary's waist forcing him to lean against the old man, taking some support.
"You never had so much trouble telling me all your troubles before." Ron criticized as Gary's head cleared again.
"You didn't used to be so interested in them," Gary defended in return, "Or so affectionate."
Ron immediately withdrew his arm and Gary regretted his words as soon as he had said them. Ron sat himself back down on the couch.
"Sit down," Ron commanded. Gary was feeling bad about everything again so he soundlessly complied. "Just assume I know everything already." Ron continued again. Gary could tell that he was just trying to help but he couldn't know what he was asking for.
"You can't know this," Gary said miserably.
"What can be so bad Gary? I know all about the lying and the cheating."
Gary just shook his head and wanted to scream, or tell all, in any case his throat just clenched in fear. A silence fell between them and they ate breakfast to cover it. Soon there was no food left and they were left looking at their empty plates.
"You know," Ron broke through the silence eventually in a cheery tone of voice, "The last time you were this quiet was that time I found you sitting in the shop smelling of Marijuana."
Gary swallowed hard feeling like somehow Ron did indeed know everything and was boring a hole through him with his eyes.
"Of course it was legalised in 2040." Ron continued losing the humour and sounding to Gary's over paranoid mind, slightly confrontational.
"You know what bothers me about you Gary?" Ron continued after a minute more of Gary's silence. Gary risked a look at his friend. "You haven't asked me anything. You would think that, coming from the future as I do, you would be eager to know a little bit about what I've been doing, what's happened."
"It's all changed now anyway, you changed it by getting me off the bridge." Gary said trying to gain control of the downward spiral he was on. His head was feeling a little lighter, the anxiety leaving him and making him want to tell all; he was sure Ron had slipped something in his coffee.
"Don't give me that," Ron's voice growled at Gary, "I'm an old man, surely you would like to know a bit about what has already passed."
"You asked me about my life, I haven't finished telling you yet." Gary defended.
Ron shook his head, "Not good enough, where's that guilt of yours? Isn't there somebody you would like to know about?"
Gary could have died and sunk through the floor, he knew about Xavier, Gary thought, it wasn't possible.
"Seen a ghost Gary?" Ron asked. Definitely confrontational, Gary thought staring at him in shock.
"No, I'm fine," Gary resembled, "Is there any more coffee?"
"Don't change the subject," Ron snapped, "Where is your guilt Gary? You haven't asked a single thing about Yvonne, did she mean that much to you?"
How could he say that he hadn't asked about Yvonne because he already knew from Xavier that she was Ron's wife? Gary was annoyed now too; Ron was deliberately trying to get him to ask so that he could tell him that they were married.
"I'm sure Yvonne was alright," Gary snapped, "She always did have a certain talent for survival."
"So," Ron said swinging into totally calm psychologist mode without a blink of his eyes, "We can rule out guilt from your bigamy then, so I can only assume you've been up to something else."
Gary glared at his friend, why couldn't they have just gone for a beer and talked football, Gary wondered. At some point in the proceedings Gary had reclaimed his hand and retreated to the farthest edge of the couch. Ron came closer to him and took a hand in his again.
"Shall I tell you something instead?" Ron said unexpectedly.
Gary swallowed hard but managed to nod.
"Did you know that you talk in your sleep?" Ron asked softly.
Gary froze and went whiter than the milk on the trolley beside them. He couldn't move, not even after Ron started to gently stroke his hand. Had he let slip in his sleep that he had been involved with Xavier? It would certainly explain why Ron had been grilling him so intensely.
"Just tell me what happened that actually gave Gary Sparrow a guilt problem." Ron insisted with a sigh.
Gary sprang to his feet and approached the window, needing the distance between himself and Ron. Ron had remained resolutely insistent on a confession and Gary was feeling so hunted now that he thought he deserved to hear it. If he hadn't already heard, Gary thought remembering the sleep talking.
"I had an affair." Gary said causing Ron to stifle a laugh behind him. Now he had started though, Gary found it easy to continue despite Ron's sudden amusement. "You know I got through to the nineteenth century, well I got bored one Sunday and tried it the other way."
"You got bored?" Ron hissed at him for the first time losing his cool, Gary was startled, he hadn't got to the good bit yet. Well he should spit it out and then Ron could kill him. He waited for Ron to cool down and compose himself.
"I just wanted to see if it would work and then when I got there it looked OK so I decided to stay for a while. Then I got talking to this chap in a bar and we got on really well; we ended up going for a night out on the town and stuff." Gary continued with a cautious voice.
"And stuff?" Ron asked calmly but with a face like thunder.
"In the nineteenth I came across a version of Yvonne, in the future I thought I would meet another Phoebe or something but the future was different."
"That's what its there for." Ron cut in unhelpfully.
"I travelled far into the future and had an affair with a man, a two day fling, that's all it was."
Gary turned to Ron now thinking he was over the worst of it. Ron stared back at him so intently it made Gary step back towards the window.
"A two day fling?" Ron shouted at him, "Gary Sparrow just doesn't care who he tramples on does he?" Ron was furious.
"It wasn't like that." Gary defended weakly.
"What was his name, can you remember?" Ron demanded.
"Yes, I remember, I can't forget," Gary answered turning it around so he could still defend himself, "That's the problem, I can't forget and I will never see him again. I couldn't forget him the day Phoebe walked out on me, which is why I just let her do it."
Gary turned to face the window again; he couldn't keep his composure much longer, it was getting to be too much.
"What was his name?" Ron demanded.
Gary didn't think he cared what Ron did to him now, he leant his forehead against a cold windowpane, "Xavier," he said uttering the name aloud for the first time in over a year, "Xavier Wheatcroft." Silence followed and Gary thought he was going to have to fill it with sobbing but at length Ron spoke.
"Well," Ron said in an amused tone, "I must remind my daughter Suzie never to have a child named Xavier, then all your troubles will be over. Of course it was probably just a coincidence, the surname."
Gary slid down the window and crumpled to the floor; he didn't want to kill himself now, he wanted to beg Ron to do it for him. In one careless moment he had wiped out Xavier's existence forever.
Ron took a deep breath and then breathed out a long sigh sinking back into the soft depths of the couch. He felt tired, the strain of the interrogation affecting him now that he had squeezed the confession out of Gary. He had to admit that Gary did look genuinely upset but he would need to work on him a bit more before he was sure. Enough was enough though; it was time they took a break. He went to the phone and ordered them some refreshments then commanded Gary to sit beside him on the couch. Seeing that he had calmed, Gary complied but to Ron he looked broken and defeated. Ron, with a lump at his throat at the memory, recognised the look only too well.