The Time Bubble Box Set 2, стр. 11
“Are you sure that’s a good idea? Can we trust these two?”
“I’ve been chatting to Henry for years. He feels like an oldfriend. We’ve nothing to fear from him.”
“And what about her? I’m not sure about her at all.”
“I’d like to know more about what they’re proposing, so Idon’t think we have any choice. They obviously know we’re the ones behind thetime travel so what’s the use in denying it? How about we go along with it to adegree by admitting we know how to time travel, but not give too much awayabout how it all works until we know exactly what it is they want?”
“They’ve already told us,” said Alice. “It’s obvious. Allthat stuff about being able to go back in time to being eighteen again. Theywant to see if their whole mind transference process can be adapted to send aperson’s mind back in time into their past body, and they want to use your timetravel knowledge to help them do it.”
“There’s only one way to find out for sure,” said Josh.“Shall we go back in?”
“OK. But remember what I said. Play it cool and don’t committo anything. At least not until we’ve had a chance to run it by the others.”
“Agreed,” said Josh. “And let’s look on the bright side. Wewere bound to get found out by someone eventually. There are far worse peopleout there than these two. We could have found ourselves being held hostage bysome hostile agents from some rogue regime, plotting to use our technology totake over the world. At least these two are friendly. We can’t come to any harmwith them – can we?”
“Let’s hope not,” said Alice, but she still had herreservations.
“Come on, then,” said Josh.
Together they walked back to the table where Henry andVanessa were waiting.
Chapter Four
March 2056
Alice and Josh had returned to Oxford, rested and refreshedafter many months of travelling around the world.
After a few days to get settled back in, they had arrangedto meet the rest of the Time Bubble team for drinks, back in their old local inthe small Oxfordshire market town where most of them had grown up.
As he heaved open the ancient wooden door that had gracedthe front of The Red Lion since time immemorial, Josh was pleased to see thatthe rest of the gang were already there. They were seated on high stools aroundone of the tall, square tables that ran all along the right-hand side of thepub.
The pub had barely changed at all in the whole time Josh hadbeen going in there, which had been a long time. It was getting on for fourdecades since he and Charlie had sneaked in there for an underage pint whilethey were doing their A levels, something that Craig, the landlord of the time,had turned a blind eye to.
Chronologically, Josh’s first visit to the pub had been evenearlier than that. He had called in for a pint during his lengthy stay in 1992,and even back then it was barely distinguishable from today.
The pub may not have changed but he and his friendscertainly had, all affected by the inevitable passing of time. There was nodenying that middle age had well and truly arrived. Josh’s oldest friend,Charlie Adams, was now greying and developing an ever-increasing girth, broughton no doubt by his love of fine wine and cheese.
His wife, Kaylee, by contrast, was as fit and beautiful asever in her mid-fifties, her long, blonde hair as lush as it had ever been.Whatever she was using to keep the grey hair at bay, it was certainly working.
Sitting on the opposite side of the table from Charlie andKaylee were Peter and Hannah Grant. They were now both in their mid-sixtiesnow, but as full of life as ever, despite the weathered lines on their faces.
It had been a long time since Josh and Alice had seen theirfriends and there were many hugs and kisses exchanged before Josh headed forthe bar where he was greeted by the final member of their team, the pub’slandlady and his former girlfriend, Lauren.
She was the wild child of the group and always had been,free and liberal in her sexual attitudes and with a belly full of fire foranyone she took a dislike to. Many had felt the sharp end of her tongue overthe years, which to be fair had been in most cases more than justified. No manor woman had ever managed to tame her, and she had never married or hadchildren as a result.
“Welcome home, stranger!” she said enthusiastically. “I betyou’re glad to get back to some decent beer, aren’t you?”
“Too right,” said Josh. “I’ve had to make do with lager mostof the time I’ve been away. I’ve never understood why the rest of the worlddoesn’t brew proper ale.”
“Because it’s warm and flat and horrible?” suggested anelderly gentleman sitting further along the bar reading a copy of the RacingPost and sipping from a pint of lager.
“You keep your opinions to yourself, Nobby,” retortedLauren.
“Suit yourself,” replied Nobby. “I’ve got a cast-ironcertainty in the Champion Chase at Cheltenham tomorrow. I was going to tellyou, but you can forget it now.” Grumpily, he got off the stool and hobbledacross to a table out of earshot where he could return to studying the form inpeace.
“Blimey, I didn’t realise that was old Nobby,” said Josh.“He’s been coming in here, like, forever. He must be the only punter left inBritain who still buys the paper version of the Racing Post.”
“Most of his generation are gone now,” replied Lauren. “Weoccasionally get one or two in during the week when it’s quiet but they mostlycome in the morning and drink tea or coffee.”
Josh looked around him to see that the pub was pretty quiet.Other than Nobby there were a couple of young guys playing pool at the far endof the room and a group of three women wearing Lycra in their thirties sat