Coffee &; Spitfires

Chapter 1

The train doors slid open and a bundle of people fell out onto the
platform following a collective push. I straightened out by neck, which
was aching from being bent down by the door. The daily rumble to work
was always the same. The crowded carriages of the Piccadilly line
greeted me every morning and it always got my day off to the worse
possible start. It takes me about 30 minutes to get from Ealing to
Holborn, 30 minutes of personal space invasion and standing closer to
strangers than I do with any of my family or friends.

I stand on the right hand side of the escalator and scan the faces of
the downward side. Most are blank and staring forward, almost an exact
mirror of our escalator. Occasionally a pretty girl breaks the solemn
line, always perks you up in a morning of such total dullness to see
somebody smiling and looking good. I let my shoes slide onto the teeth
at the top of moving stairs and glide onto the ceramic tiles of the
floor. I reach into my pocket for my travelcard and pop it into the
machine, grabbing it as I go through the little swinging doors. I can
feel the winter freshness of the January air rushing around me as I
approach the outside. I pull my coat closer around me and tuck my scarf
down inside. I ignore the people holding magazines in my face and turn
left down Kingsway.
"James, Jimmy." I hear someone shout my name and turn round. Graeme has
followed me out the tube station and smiles at me. I shake his
hand.
"Happy New Year. Did you have a good Christmas?" I ask as we both turn
and continue walking towards the office.
"Yeah, not bad. How about you?" he adjusts the rucksack on his back and
shoves his hands into his pockets.
"Good, thanks. Just family stuff really. Went home and ate my parents
food." I grin and watch my breath turn to smoke in the air.
"Did you remember your squash kit?" he looks at my bag.
"Yep, got to try and work off some of the christmas turkey." I pause,
"Was the court booked for 1 o'clock?"
"I think so, I'll check and let you know." Graeme presses the button on
the pedestrian crossing and we wait for the little green man, "How is
Jess?"
"Oh, she's really good thanks. She was down at ours for Christmas Day
and we went to her parents for boxing day." I think about Jess. She had
the rest of the week off and I left her in our warm bed this morning.
She watched me get ready through her sleepy eyes, her dark hair falling
down across her pale face. I kissed her softly on the cheek when I
went.
"Woah, the big family thing then." He laughs.
"Yeah, I guess so. It was really nice though. Her parents are good
fun." We both instinctively turn into the Coffee Republic and join the
queue inside, "Where did you end up for New Year's Eve?"
"We got tickets for the Ministry of Sound. It was okay but I think I am
getting a bit old for all that. I was knackered by 2 and it didn't shut
till 6." He looked up at the menu board behind the busy workers. The
smell of coffee floated up my nose and began to clear my sleepy head
and get me out of the commuting induced slump that takes me over
between eight and nine every day.
"That sounds good. Never too old for that sort of thing." I decide on
my usual straight, black coffee.
"25 this year, quarter of a century." He grimaces.
"Me too. In August."
"You'll be getting married soon and having kids and things." He prods
me softly in the stomach.
"Hmm, maybe." I turn to the girl behind the counter, "Hello Jane, how
are you?" Jane is the usual girl who serves us.
"Not bad, thank you. Do you both want your normal?" she looks at and
smiles.
"Please." We both answer simultaneously and watch as she grabs two
cardboard cups and sticks them under the coffee machine. I reach into
my pocket and find several pound coins.
"I'll get these, mate." I put the money on the counter and Jane grabs
it and hands me my change.
"Cheers, Jimmy." Graeme picks up his hot cup and hands me mine,
"Thanks, Jane."
"Cheers, Jane." I add and we walk back out into the cold air, "Shit,
this is burning my hand." I juggle the cup between my hands. We reach
the large glass doors of our building and I hold it open for Graeme.
The name 'Goldwyn Consulting' is embossed onto the glass in gold
writing, my hand leaves fingerprints on the glass from the heat of the
coffee cup. We walk over to the lifts and press the button.
"You going to be busy today?" Graeme asks as the lift doors open with a
bing. He presses the 7th floor.
"Hope not. Just check emails and stuff, I guess." I hold the doors open
for several people as they jog towards the lift. The doors shut and the
lift descends into the customary silence as we shoot upwards. We stop
at several floors before the seventh and myself and Graeme struggle
through the mass of people and squeeze out.
"Right, I'll see you at about quarter to one then for squash." I smile
at Graeme and pat him on the arm.
"Okay, see you then." He goes left and I go right. I open the doors to
my area and look around the open plan office. The Christmas decorations
are still up, I notice. I walk down the little corridor between the
desks to mine and throw my bag under my desk and hang my jacket up on
the coat stand nearby. Nobody else is in yet. I flick on my computer
and wait for it to warm up. It has just gone nine.

Chapter 2

"What's that? Seven eight?" Graeme bends down to pick up the small ball
from the floor. He is covered in sweat.
"Think so. Your serve." I position myself in the right hand side of the
walled court and whip the sweat from forehead with my arm. Graeme
glances at me to make sure I am ready and then whacks the ball hard at
the wall. I stroke it back across court and Graeme tries a short drop
shot into the corner but overhits it slightly. I pounce on it and smash
it hard against the wall and it drops in the back right hand corner of
the court. Graeme gives it up for dead and turns back to face me.
"Good shot. Eight seven." He flicks the ball up with his racket and
chips it over to me. I catch it.
"I can feel the mincepies sweating off me." I laugh and get ready to
serve. I smack it hard into the middle of the wall but it bounces down
close to the left hand wall. Graeme knocks it low against the wall so
that it comes almost back towards him. I run behind him and repeat the
positioning of his shot. He reads this well and stays where he is,
before hitting it hard to the centre of the wall. I have to sprint
across court to try and reach it, I manage to get there but I feel my
trainer slip on a drop of sweat on the hard wooden floor.

I open my eyes and look up. Graeme is looking down at me.
"Are you alright, mate?"
"What happened?" I feel groggy and try to get up.
"No stay there for a minute. You smacked straight into the wall." He
grins, "Do you want me to get someone?"
"Nah, I'll be alright." I push myself back up onto my feet.
"Ooh, I think you might have a blackeye coming there." Graeme points at
my right eye. It hurts.
"We had better call it day." I say as I bend down and pick up my
racket.
"Okay, I won." Graeme gets his racket case from the front of the court
and picks up mine as well.
"I don't think so. I was winning two games to one." I open the glass
door at the back of the court and we go out.
"Yeah, but you conceeded."
"I nearly got knocked out!" I look at him and grin.
"But that wasn't my fault." He opens the door to the changing
room.
"Let's call it a draw for now then, but you will pay for that next
game." I find my locker key and start to pull out my clothes from
inside it.

Chapter 3

"You had better not still be in bed!" I shout as I close the front door
behind me. We bought a flat together in Ealing about 2 months ago. Jess
was hoping to get some decorating done during her week off. I walked
into the lounge, she was sat amid a pile of flowery wallpaper.
"At last, it's all down." The wallpaper had been driving her mad since
we moved in. She hated it. I would watch her as we sat in front of
television, she would not be watching the screen but would be staring
silently at the walls, sometimes slowly shaking her head.
"You've been busy." I drop my bag by the door and hold out my hands to
pull her up. She is wearing an old t-shirt of mine and a grubby pair of
jeans. She is barefoot and her hair is tied back into a loose ponytail.
She kisses me on the mouth and puts her arms around my shoulders. She
notices my blackeye which had come up over the afternoon.
"What happened to you?" she puts her hand on my cheek and looks at the
large black bruise.
"I ran into a wall playing squash with Graeme." I grimace as she softly
touches it.
"Aren't you meant to avoid the walls?" she smiles.
"Ha ha." I say sarcastically.
"How is Graeme?" she lets go of me and walks into the kitchen.
"He's good. Sends his love." I look around the kitchen, there is an
empty cardboard box on the table, "Oh, you got the coffee machine
working?" I look at the silver contraption on the worktop, it has
several buttons and levers and a pressure gauge.
"Yes, it's brilliant. Do you want a cappuccino?" She flicks on a switch
and the machine starts to gurgle.
"Okay." I pull out a chair from the table and sit down and watch her
glide around the kitchen. She moves with such ease and comfort, it is
almost like she isn't moving at all. She catches me looking at her out
the corner of her eye and smiles at me. She comes over and leans down
to kiss me again.
"You look very macho with your blackeye." She runs her hand under my
chin and then turns back to the silver machine, "Oh, your dad called
just before you got back."
"Did he? Did he say what he wanted?" I ask as I reach for the newspaper
and turn to the sports page.
"I think he wanted to sort out when you wanted to take your test." Jess
turns a lever suddenly and with a hiss fills a cup with steaming
coffee. She twiddles another lever and steaming foam tumbles into the
cup. She turns and puts it in front of me, "Taa daa."
"Looks good." I think about the test. I had been doing flying lessons
for just over a year now and hadn't been able to afford to pay for the
final test because of buying the flat. Mum and Dad had bought me the
test for Christmas but I was nervous about it. I hadn't been up for
ages because of the money and I didn't want to fail as the test was so
expensive.
"Are you worried about taking the test?" Jess pulled the chair out
opposite me and sat down, reading my thoughts.
"It's just so expensive for mum and dad, and I haven't been up for
ages." I sip at the coffee, "Jess, that is really good."
"Not just a pretty face." She grins and takes a drink of hers, "You'll
pass alright, your instructor said you would. He said you were a
natural."
"I guess. Yeah, should be alright." I smile at her, "I'll start dinner
and then maybe we do some more decorating."
"Okay. We could do some more stripping." I look at her and she is
grinning.
"But I thought all the wallpaper was off the wall." She stands up and
raises her eyebrows and wraps arms around me from behind as I open the
kitchen cupboards.
"It is." She laughs and then opens the fridge and hands me some
vegetables. I light the hob and flick the kettle on.

Chapter 4

I look over to my clock by the bed, it has just gone three. I have been
unable to sleep. I look at Jess, she is fast asleep and looks
fantastic. I nudge her softly and she groans. I nudge her again.
"James....what is it?" she turns to face me but keeps her eyes
shut.
"I have been thinking." I whisper softly and shuffle down so that our
faces are really close.
"Good for you. Go to sleep."
"Graeme and I were talking today. About getting old." I look at her.
She has opened her eyes slightly and I can see her eyes sparkling in
the darkness.
"Oh yes and what did you boys conclude." She asks and moves next to me,
slipping her arm around my back under the covers.
"It doesn't matter, but it just got me thinking." I pause, "Will you
marry me?" She smiles at me sweetly and slowly blinks her eyes.
"Of course I will." She leans towards me and kisses me for a long time
on the mouth. I smile at her. She closes her eyes slowly and falls
asleep. I feel myself drift off.

Chapter 5

It is cold again when I get out the station and I almost slip on the
ice just outside. The journey was better today as I stood thinking
about Jess. I was glad that we were getting married. I always worried
that I would get married out of obligation, but I am getting married
because I really want to, because I really love her and want to spend
the rest of my life with her. She looked so amazing this morning but
she made me late for work. I turned into Coffee Republic and smiled at
Jane behind the counter, she grinned back.
"You look happy." She asked me as she put the cup under the coffee
machine.
"I am. Getting married." I replied and handed her two pounds.
"Really? Congratulations." She smiled and took my money. We were both
startled by the door crashing open against the window behind it. A man
dressed in black faced us. He had wild ginger hair and pale, spotty
skin. I guessed he was younger than he looked, maybe seventeen or
eighteen. He pulled a gun out of his tracksuit top pocket.
"I want all the fucking money in the till." He screamed and waved the
gun around madly. I looked at Jane. She was shaking. The other
customers had pushed themselves back against the far wall but I
couldn't move. My hand was still hovering out across the counter
holding the change Jane had just given me.
"Okay, okay." Jane spoke and sounded less nervous than she
looked.
"Now. Quickly, quickly." He spoke quieter and looked around at
everyone, "Nobody fucking move." He stood by the door and looked out
quickly onto the street, I noticed a car parked on the double yellow
lines outside. Jane leant over the counter and handed him a hand full
of coins and one ten pound note. He looked at it.
"Is this a fucking joke?" he waved the gun again.
"That is all there is." Jane replied swiftly.
"I don't believe you." He pointed the gun towards her.
"Why would she lie?" I felt myself say it. It came from somewhere. He
turned to me, noticing me for the first time.
"Fuck you." He held the gun out and pointed it at me.
"Give me more money or I will shoot this cunt." He screamed.
"There is no more." Jane yelled back.

I heard the bang and an immense burst of pain in my chest. I could also
hear a voice shouting.

Chapter 6

"James, James." I could hear the man screaming but he sounded funny,
"Pull up, Pull up." I forced my eyes open but a bright light blinded
me, but I forced my eyes to focus. I looked up and all I could see was
blue and flecks of white cotton. I moved my eyes down and was
confronted by a blanket of green. I felt a pain in my chest and moved
my hand to feel. As I pulled my hand away, I looked down and saw that
my hand was covered in blood, my blood. I focused past my hand trying
to force the fog in my head into the background. I was looking at the
cockpit of a very old plane. I shook my head and tried to take it in. I
looked at the old dials and at the leather-clad joystick that was
turning violently from side to side. My eyes caught the altimeter, the
hand was spiralling round and round and for a moment I watched the
numbers going down and down. I instinctively grabbed the controls and
heaved back on the stick. It was so heavy and the pain in my chest was
throbbing. I pulled back and felt the engines wine as we slowly
levelled out. The green blanket was so close I could make out the
details. I shot over a farmyard of animals and just missed a large oak
tree before climbing upwards. I scanned my eyes over the controls and
found the throttle it was half open so I pushed it to full power, the
engines roared and the plane began to climb. The controls were still
very heavy. It was then that I noticed the other noise.
"Yes, James. Well done." There was a pause, "For god's sake, answer.
Are you okay?" I heard the voice in my head and with one hand on the
stick I reached up and felt the leather flying mask and headphones on
my head. I felt sick and pulled away the oxygen mask that covered my
mouth. I couldn't breath. The pain from my chest was overwhelming,
"James, if you can hear me. Jerry has fled. They took off when Green
squadron turned up at last. Lucky for us." Suddenly a plane came over
the top of me with a roar. It was a spitfire. I was beginning to slip
into unconsciousness.
"Follow me, if you can. We'll try and get you home. You have got damage
to your fuselage and some to the tail but you should be okay. Give me a
slight wobble of the wings if you understand." I heard the voice and
shook the stick slightly, "Good for you, Jimmy. Good for you. Let's go
home." I stayed in the stream of the plane in front, trying to figure
out what was happening but the only thing I could concentrate on was
the pain in my chest. I reached across with my hand again, there was
blood everywhere. I pulled the oxygen mask back on, it could only help
and concentrated on the rear of the plane ahead.
"James, I hope you are still with me. Biggin is just down there. Follow
me in. We'll take it slow." The spitfire in front banked slightly to
the right and then began to head towards the ground. I saw his
undercarriage unfold underneath and search the panel in front of me for
my lever. I yanked at one and heard the slow clank of the wheels going
down. I strained my eyes to look past the plane in front and saw the
airfield in front. I adjusted the throttle slightly and tried to
concentrate. The plane was so different to the Cessna I had learnt in.
I adjusted the flaps and dropped away from the plane in front.
"Not too slow. You don't want to stall. Keep with me, James. Just a bit
longer. Can you see the ambulance down there? They will help you but we
have got to get down." I heard the voice in my head. I increased the
power slightly as both planes began to drop towards the runway. The
spitfire in front touched down with a slight smoke from the wheels as
it landed. I adjusted the flaps again and felt a bump as I landed. The
plane jumped in the air with a jolt, I felt the pain in my chest echo
throughout my body. Then suddenly I was back down again. I looked
forward, the spitfire in front had peeled off to the left and was
trundling across the grass towards several more.
"Cut the power, Jimmy." I heard the voice and reached for the throttle
and pulled it back. I was careering towards the end of the runway.
There was a large hanger in front of me and several lorries were parked
in my path. I was going to fast to stop before I hit the lorries. I
searched the controls for the brake and finding it, pulled the handle
swiftly. I also began to turn to the left and the empty grass there but
we were going to fast and the plane skidded, tipping slowly sideways.
The wing held on for a moment and then cracked. I saw the propeller in
front dig into the soft grass and grind to a halt. The whole plane was
on it's side and I smacked my head on the metal rim of the cockpit
cover. The propeller digging into the ground forced the back of the
plane around on itself, skidding round in a circle before stopping with
a hiss. I looked out the cockpit window at the ground, which was at a
sideways angle from me. I struggled to undo the seatbelt that had me
strapped into the seat. The hissing was continuing and I could just
about make out the sound of sirens approaching. I finally undid the
straps and reached for the cockpit to slide it open. It was tough but
with a big effort, it finally slid open and I heaved myself out. I fell
out onto the grass right beside me and crawled away from the wreckage.
I felt the heat behind me build up but didn't look back until I was
further away. I rested my head on the cold grass and looked back at the
plane. It was a spitfire and it was on fire. I let my head slump back
down onto the ground and listened to the approaching sirens.

Chapter 7

I woke up but didn't open my eyes. I didn't understand enough to look.
I just listened and smelt. It sounded like a hospital and smelt like a
hospital. I heard someone walk past quickly. They had hard-heeled shoes
that tapped as they walked. I could hear voices coming from somewhere.
I pinched the mattress underneath me. It was soft but the sheets felt
starchy and stiff. What had happened? What was waiting for me when I
opened my eyes. Then in the distance I heard a sound that I only
recognised from films, an air raid siren. It began quietly whining up
and down but growing louder all the time. I heard footsteps again
running nearby. One set of footsteps stopped next to my bed.
"Sir, sir. Are you awake?" It was a soft voice and I felt the breath on
my ear. She was whispering in my ear gently. I opened my eyes slowly
and looked at her. She was blonde and had her hair tied back under a
paper looking hat. She was wearing a nurses uniform with a large red
cross on the apron.
"Sir, it's an air raid." She whispered again and lent slightly away
from me, "Can you move as we need to get you to shelter?"
"I'm not sure." My voice sounded quiet and croaky.
"Why don't you try?" She drew back the sheets so that I could swing my
legs out. I felt a dull ache in my chest and put my hand to where the
blood had been gushing. I looked past at the panic of people rushing
around behind her, but she was totally calm. I moved my legs around and
onto the floor. I sat up and immediately felt dizzy but she grabbed my
hand and helped me onto my feet, I wobbled slightly but held onto her
shoulder and straightened up.
"I feel a dizzy." I said as we began shuffling away from the bed.
"You will probably feel groggy from the morphine for awhile. You are
very lucky." She held my hand as we walked out into the column of
shuffling patients and concerned looking nurses and doctors, "Do you
think you could put this on?" She grabbed a green helmet from a table
and passed it to me. I put it onto my head and began to feel my legs
again. I increased my stride and followed her towards the door at the
end of the ward. She continued holding my hand as we turned right out
of the ward and into the cold air outside. I guessed it was about ten
in the morning as there was a slight frost still on the ground and on
the lorries parked on the grass by the runway. I noticed the wreckage
of the spitfire again. The nurse saw me looking at it.
"You gave us quite a scare. It was lucky you missed those fuel
lorries." She pointed towards the lorries I had been heading for.
"What happened to me?" I asked as she guided me towards a bunker I
spotted in the grass.
"You took a bullet in your chest, just below your right shoulder. You
were lucky, it missed anything vital and our surgeon removed it in
about half an hour." She paused as we ducked down into the darkness of
the bunker just as a huge explosion echoed around the airfield. A
second one landed nearer and we both fell into a heap in the black.
Someone groaned underneath us. We struggled to our feet but another
explosion rocked us over again. I mumbled an apology and let the nurse
drag me into a corner where we both sat down on the ground. I noticed
that we were both clutching each other's hands. My eyes eventually got
used to the dark but my ears could not get used to the gigantic bangs
from just outside the entrance to the bunker. Suddenly a shower of dirt
came through the door covering us in mud and grime.
"Oh god. This is awful." I heard my nurse murmur next to me. The whole
bunker shook again and several people screamed. I just felt total
confusion and panic. It felt so real but how could it be, how could
this be real? I had just celebrated the start of the year 2001 and now
I was back in the 2nd World War. It must be a dream. I remember the
coffee shop and gunman but after that, only this.

As suddenly as the bombing began, it ended. People began to walk out of
the bunker. There was no talking, just silence. I followed up the
stairs back into the sunlight, except the sun was no masked by dark,
black smoke that was billowing up from the fuel lorries that I almost
hit. A large hanger to our left was also on fire and several spitfires
on the ground were in pieces. There were several bodies on the ground
and my nurse ran to tend one nearby. I stood, turning slowly round and
round trying to take it in, trying to make sense of what was
happening.
"James, isn't it?" I heard the voice from behind me and turned round to
see a man in uniform walking towards me. He had sandy blonde hair and
looked about 30. He had a rough stubble across his chin. I looked at
his broad shoulders and saw several stripes. I guessed he was someone
important.
"Yes...sir." I added.
"Hell of a way to be introduced to the fold, eh? James." He patted me
on the shoulder and I grimaced in pain, "Shit, sorry. How you feeling
anyway?"
"Rough. My chest hurts and I don't really know what is going on." I
look at him. How can I tell him what happened?
"Damn bad luck for us as well. At last we get a replacement for Harry,
and you get a bullet fifteen minutes after you turn up." He paused,
"Ah, I'm not blaming you of course. You did well to get home, it's just
frustrating. I spoke to the Doc, he reckons you might be back for
flying in a couple of weeks so I guess it could be worse."
"Err..yes, sir." I begin to feel faint and weak. The confusion is
rattling through me and blocks out all my thoughts like a fog.
"Jenkins tells me that you bagged a couple of 109's. Well done." He
begins to walk towards the hospital and I follow him.
"I can't remember beyond waking up just before the air raid, so I will
have to take your word for it." I speak quietly but he stops walking
and puts his hand on my shoulder.
"Really? Not a thing?" he asks.
"Nothing, not a thing. I don't remember getting here, getting shot. I
don't remember you. I don't remember what year it is. Nothing." I look
at him.
"Oh dear. Well, I am sure it will come back to you. You've got a hell
of a bruise on the side of your head and a humdinger of a black eye, so
you are bound to feel a bit bad for a couple of days." He pauses, "I am
Major Red Gordon and it's 1942." He held out his hand, which I shook,
"The rest can wait till later." He held open the door to the ward for
me and I went in. I walked into the ward and back down between the
beds, I couldn't remember where my bed was so I checked the names by
the side of them. James Willard, written in chalk on a blackboard. How
could this be? How could I be here? I slumped back into the bed and
felt a thrust of pain throughout my body. It was shuddering. I lifted
up my pyjamas and looked at the bandage on my chest. The pain was real.
This bed felt real. Everything was real. I drifted off into an
uncomfortable sleep.

I awoke with a start. It was dark. I strained my eyes to see the clock
at the end of the ward, it was ten o'clock in the evening. I looked at
the other beds in the ward for the first time. There was a curtain
around the bed to my right and the man in the bed to my left was fast
asleep despite his leg being up in a sling. It was too dark to see the
other patients clearly but I could hear some of them snoring loudly in
the black. I then spotted a small torch coming up between the beds. It
shined towards me and then was flicked off. It was my nurse
again.
"Hello Sir." She put her palm on my forehead.
"Please, call me James." I mutter as she pushes a thermometer into my
mouth, "What's your name?" I mumble.
"Gillian. How are you feeling?" she asks and sits down in the chair
next to me.
"My chest hurts." I speak quietly so as to not wake anyone else.
"It will do for awhile, but you will soon be back up in the air." She
smiles softly.
"I have to tell you something but you are going to think it is madness,
you will think that I have a fever or something, but you just checked
my temperature and it's fine, isn't it?" I look at her eagerly. I have
to tell someone. I have to let someone know what I am going
through.
"Well, you are slightly hot but nothing out the ordinary. What do you
want to tell me?" she leans towards me and puts her hands on the edge
of the bed. She has very small hands I notice as I take a deep
breath.
"Something very strange has happened to me. I don't belong here and I
don't know how I got here. I woke up in that spitfire and I have no
idea how I got there. The last thing I remember before that was
ordering a coffee in a caf? in London, in the year 2001." I finish my
sentence and look at her. She smiles.
"James, you were badly hurt. You are bound to be a bit confused."
"Trust me, I am telling the truth. Yes, my name is James Willard but I
work for a consultancy firm and have a flat in Ealing. I have a
motorbike. I was born in 1976." I raise my voice slightly and Gillian
hushes me.
"James, I saw you arrive here yesterday. I remember thinking you looked
like a young version of Major Gordon. You were the replacement that he
had been waiting for. All the nurses were wondering how you got the
black eye." She smiled.
"I got this playing squash with my friend Graeme." I pointed at my
eye.
"Squash? What's that?" she looked at me confused.
"I got this playing a sport in the year 2001. I now how this must sound
but believe me if I knew what was happening I would tell you but I
don't."
"But you knew how to fly the spitfire yesterday?" she asks after a long
pause.
"Just about, I have been taking flying lessons for awhile now." I take
another deep breath, "Ask me about anything. I guess if I am a pilot
that I must have had training somewhere, ask me about that but I won't
know. I won't know anything about life here."
"You got a big scare and a large bump on the head, maybe you have got
some amnesia. I will tell the doctor tomorrow." She stands up.
"I can tell you what I did yesterday. I asked my girlfriend to marry
me, we live together in Ealing, then I woke up and made a coffee in my
new coffee machine. Then I got on the London underground and went to
Holborn. I bought another coffee from a caf? and then someone came in
to rob the place, and I think he shot me. He shot me here." I hear my
voice raising, "Then I opened my eyes and I was at the controls of a
spitfire, with the same bullet wound but in 1942. Explain that to
me?"
"I can't. All I know is that you need your rest and you need to calm
down. Everything has an explanation, everything." She pushes me back
down into bed and begins to walk away. She stops at the end of the bed
and looks back at me, "The nurses were wondering that as well."
"Wondering what?" I murmur as she looks at me from the end of the
bed.
"Wondering whether you had a girl." She smiles and then turns to walk
away. I think about Jess but I cannot cope with thinking about what is
happening. My brain just does not know where to start trying to figure
it all out, it is too big, too confusing.

"I would say you have a touch of amnesia, young man. I am sure it will
pass in a couple of days. In the meantime, you are on sick leave and
taking up a valuable bed, so we are sending you home." I look at the
doctor despairingly and see Major Gordon coming up between the beds
towards me.
"How's he doing, doctor?"
"Not bad, I think he has a bit of amnesia." They both look at me, "He
seems to think that he doesn't belong here, that he belongs in the year
2001."
"What?" Gordon looks at me, "What's he talking about, James?"
"He says that we win the war, he says that he knows we win the war."
The doctor continues. He is a small man in a white coat and has grey
hair.
"Good, that is the sort of confidence I like to hear." Gordon smiles at
me.
"He also says that America puts a man on the moon in 1969." The doctor
raises his eyebrows slightly as he reads his notes.
"Neil Armstrong" I say quietly.
"Armstrong on the moon, sounds great." Gordon perches on the edge of my
bed, his weight leans the whole thing over, "You just need some rest.
Funny you should mention all this stuff, I was just on the phone to
Captain Frames." I look at him blankly, "Your instructor from training.
I was trying to track down your parents, but he explained your
situation to me. About you being an orphan. He also told me about your
stories. How you use to entertain all the trainees with tales of what
would happen in the future. Does any of this ring a bell with
you?"
"No. It really doesn't. I don't know a Captain Frames." I look at him.
All I feel is tired and hopelessness.
"Frames tells me that you brought all your stuff with you. Not really a
horder, are you? Just this large duffel bag." He lifts the bag up onto
the bed.
"I'll leave you to it." The doctor walks away from the bed carrying his
clipboard. Gordon watches him go.
"Jenkins said he will come and visit you later. He was the guy who
guided you down." I watch his face. He looks tired and rubs his eyes. I
can't think of anything more to say, nothing more I can do to explain
what has happened.
"You look tired, sir." I say slowly.
"I am, James, I am. Just so many missions, so few men and planes. The
guys I have got are strung out to bursting point. I hear that we might
getting some Canadians next week, which is about the best news we've
had for ages. But the Germans are so strong and they keep taking out
our radar so we never see them coming, and even if we did, we don't
really have enough people to get up there to stop them." He pauses,
rubs his eyes again and smiles, "So that is why you've got to get fit,
we need pilots like you up there. Frames was telling me that you were
top of the class in training, which was why I was so pleased to get you
here." I don't really know what to say. How can I explain this to him
anymore than I have? I understand how it must sound to them.
"Anyway, I was wondering whether you wanted to go and recuperate at my
place, it's just down the road in Sussex, right in the countryside. I
spoke to my wife yesterday, she said that she would be more than happy
to look after you for a week or so." He gets up from the edge of the
bed.
"I don't know, sir."
"Where else are you going to go, James?" he speaks softly and he is
right. I wouldn't know where to go, "I can get a driver to take you
down there this afternoon."
"Okay sir, thank you very much. Are you sure your wife won't mind?" I
ask tentatively.
"Course not. She'll be glad to have the company for awhile, what with
Frank and Sissy away." He sees my confusion, "My children. Frank is in
Italy somewhere and Sissy is in the Red Cross at Farnborough. She might
drop in, I suppose." He looks absently out the window, "Anyway, I won't
hear no for an answer. I'll arrange for the car to be here at two." He
turns back to face me and smiles.
"Thank you." I look at him and try to grin through the confusion that
seems to have subsided into the background of my mind for some
reason.

"Your car is here." Gillian comes through the double doors and bends
down to help me with the shoes I was struggling to put on.
"Thanks." I balance myself on the hospital bed.