Given Time Read online

  I looked at my coffee cup, which had long been empty, and felt the need for something stronger. Going back to my local pub was not an option, even though I would have liked some company, because by the time I got there it would be closing. There was a pub on the way back to the station that I’d been to before, which, because it was in the city, was likely to stay open later. I left the coffee shop, and crossed the river again to make my way there.

  I hadn’t gone far before it started to rain. I’d still got at least a fifteen-minute walk to where I was going and remembering how the rain had teemed against my windows, I knew I was going to get drenched unless I could quickly find another place or some kind of shelter. I scanned up and down the street, trying to recall if I’d seen another pub or bar at any time. This part of London probably had many to choose from, but I couldn’t think where the nearest one might be.

  I glanced across to the new expensive hotel I was passing. Near the entrance, a couple climbed out of a limousine and several porters rushed after them with their luggage. There would definitely be a bar inside, but I could only imagine how much they would charge for a drink. On the verge of dismissing the idea, I reminded myself that I’d just won the lottery.

  The doorman gave me a challenging look as I passed him, but I casually wished him a good evening, hoping to convey the authority of someone who came here all the time. He retained his uncertain expression, but returned my greeting in a guarded tone.

  Once inside, my bravado evaporated in the face of the hotel’s opulence. I tried not to gawp at the lavish surroundings as I made my way to a bar on the far side of the lobby.

  The lounge was vast, and less than half full. Groups of three or four club chairs were set around low-level tables. I chose one in a corner, away from the other guests, so I could indulge my favourite pastime of people watching. I was curious to see how customers in this kind of establishment behaved, and I was mildly disappointed to find they were no different to anyone else.

  A pretty waitress delivered drinks to a nearby table and then approached me. She took my order for a beer and asked if I wanted to charge it to my room. I laughed and told her I would pay for it, without explaining that I wasn’t staying in the hotel, although I assumed she’d guessed anyway. She accepted the instruction without a problem, and I saw her surreptitiously glance down at my clothes before looking guiltily back to my eyes, obviously hoping I hadn’t noticed.

  She treated me to a dazzling smile. ‘Can I get you anything else, sir?’

  I told her that just a beer was fine for now, and I watched her go off towards the bar before I checked to see what had caught her attention. Embarrassment swept through me as I realised why she and the doorman had given me the odd looks. My clothes were filthy. My jeans were covered in large patches of grime from where I had dropped and rolled over on my wet roof.

  In all the excitement, I hadn’t thought about my appearance, and as I had only planned to go as far as the local shops, I’d given no consideration to changing before I went out. It had been gloomy on the train and dark when I got off, but even if it had been brighter my mind was so distant I probably wouldn’t have noticed anyway. I suddenly felt dirty and self-conscious. I tried to fold my legs away as much as I could, tucking my feet under my chair, but the effect was negligible and looked silly, so I quickly straightened them again. But then I worried I was getting dirt all over their expensive seat.

  I was about to stand up and look when the waitress returned with my glass of beer. She set it on a decorative mat and placed a small silver tray with the bill and a bowl of complimentary mixed nuts beside it. I thanked her and apologised for my sorry state of attire and the possibility of having soiled the chair. I explained that I’d slipped in the road and hadn’t realised how dirty I was until after I sat down.

  Her face conveyed nothing more than concern. ‘I hope you didn’t injure yourself,’ she said.

  ‘Only my pride,’ I assured her.

  She smiled her condolences. ‘Not a problem. I can have maintenance come and take the chair for cleaning after you’ve finished.’

  ‘Do you need my details to send me the bill?’ I asked.

  She laughed. ‘No, not at all, sir. Accidents happen all the time. We don’t expect our guests to pay for the upkeep of the hotel.’

  I renewed my thanks.

  ‘You’re welcome. Enjoy your drink.’ She flashed her electrifying smile again and went back to the bar.

  I watched her collecting orders for another table as I drank my beer and contemplated staying for a few drinks so I could chat to her some more, but I knew her friendliness was simply part of the job. Besides, I was feeling so scruffy in my soiled clothes that I just wanted to go home and get clean. I turned over the bill and that clinched it; the beer was good, but at that price it really had to be.

  I drained my glass, and the next time the waitress walked past I caught her eye. She smiled an acknowledgement and came straight over.

  ‘Can I get you another?’ she asked.

  I told her I would have loved a second beer, but that I really ought to go and freshen up. I paid by credit card, tapping the contactless card reader on her tray. She wished me a pleasant evening, and we both looked at the chair I’d vacated. Sure enough, it was covered in dirt. Mortified, I apologised again, but she repeated that it wasn’t a problem.

  I turned to leave and was halfway across the room when I noticed a guy at another table leaving a tip on his bill tray. Feeling guilty, I quickly turned back to do the same, and saw the waitress struggling to push my soiled chair towards the wall. I rushed to help her, and as she thanked me I took a ten-pound note from my wallet and put it on her tray. She gave another brilliant smile and said, ‘By the way, I don’t know if it helps, but we have a clothing store in the lobby.’

  I thanked her again, but laughed inwardly at the bizarre idea of buying from their shop. After the amount they had charged me for a glass of beer, I could only guess at how high their prices for clothing would be. I was almost back to the main entrance when I saw the rain was now lashing down. With ninety-five million coming my way the next day, I could probably afford some expensive new clothes after all.

  I went into the shop and soon found a pair of jeans. I looked at the ticket and was surprised to see the price was high, but not as exorbitant as I had expected. I browsed some more and added a shirt and jacket to my purchases. I could clean up and change into my new clothes in the restroom, after which I would return to the bar for another couple of drinks from the lovely waitress, until the weather improved.

  A nagging voice in my head told me I shouldn’t be spending the money until it was safely in my bank account, but this was only a few hundred pounds, and I had plenty of room on my credit card to cover it. I took my selected items to the assistant, who took the clothes from me and started folding them carefully. He was a stiff, unsmiling man in his late fifties who wordlessly appraised my current apparel with only the slightest change of expression. I explained about having an accident.

  ‘I understand, sir,’ he said politely, but in a tone that said he couldn’t care less. ‘Would you like to charge these to your room?’

  I started to say I would pay for them straight away, but his question gave me another idea, so I asked him to hold onto them for five minutes while I went to reception and asked if there was a room available for the night.

  The middle-aged woman behind the desk smiled pleasantly before turning to her computer screen. After a few taps at her keyboard she said, ‘I’m sorry, there are no more rooms available. But we do have a suite, if you like?’ She too had clearly judged my appearance because she continued to tell me the price even though I hadn’t asked. Her instinct was nearly proven correct, but I just managed to keep myself from gasping and telling her I wouldn’t bother.

  ‘That’ll be fine,’ I said as if it were nothing to me, and handed her my credit card.

  Fortunately, I was in the habit of clearing both my cards each month, but this one tr
ansaction was going to take my main card from zero to near its limit, and the chilling thought briefly crossed my mind that if something went wrong with the lottery, it would take me over a year to pay off this debt.

  The receptionist ran the card with no problem and filled out the rest of the paperwork before giving me a key card. ‘Would you like some help with your luggage?’

  I guessed the question was automatic because I obviously didn’t have any, but she smiled politely as I laughed and told her I was travelling light. She pointed the way to the elevators, wished me a pleasant stay and told me to be sure to contact her if I needed anything else.

  Back in the store I noticed they sold shoes. I looked down at my feet and decided my scruffy trainers would not go well with the new clothes, so I added a pair of very expensive brogues to my other items. I handed my key card to the assistant so he could charge everything to the room, and seeing the name of the suite, his manner changed dramatically. For the first time, he smiled as he asked me if he could help with anything else. I told him I’d got everything I needed and turned to go, but then noticed a small jewellery cabinet with some very nice watches.

  I knew I was going over the top, but now I was enjoying myself. I chose one with a price tag of three and a half thousand, which meant I would max out both my credit cards when I settled my bill in the morning, but I no longer cared. In my excitement I had convinced myself that there wasn’t going to be a problem with picking up my winnings.

  I tipped the guy twenty pounds. I didn’t know whether or not I was supposed to, but I might as well get used to living like a high-roller. I’d been to the ATM earlier, so I had nearly three hundred pounds in my wallet – plenty for tipping.

  As I rode up in the lift it occurred to me that, because of the time travelling, it was as though I hadn’t been to the cashpoint. I’d taken the money out when I went shopping on Friday, but I’d gone back in time to before I’d done that. The cash was in my wallet, but without the visit to the ATM, was it still in my bank account too? If the money had remained in my account, and I couldn’t see why it hadn’t, then it meant I could get as much cash as I wanted without affecting my bank balance. That seemed crazy, but then so had everything else in the last few hours. I couldn’t think why it wouldn’t work, but I decided I’d use my phone to check my balance when I got to my room, just to be sure.

  Huge polished wooden double doors formed the entrance to my suite, but they didn’t prepare me for the spectacle inside. I gasped, and let out a low whistle as I looked around the living room. Little wonder it was ten thousand pounds for the night. This one room was bigger than my entire flat, and it was breathtaking. The extravagant furniture would have graced an exclusive interior design catalogue. There was a dining table with eight chairs at one end of the room, while at the other, three long sofas surrounded an enormous coffee table and faced a giant TV on the far wall.

  The middle of the room was home to a large bar set against the wall. I looked in the cupboards and fridge to find they were stocked with every type of drink I could imagine, but instead of the miniatures I expected, there were full size bottles and all unopened. I supposed those who could afford to stay here regularly wouldn’t be concerned about the price of a bottle or two of spirits added to their bill. Then I speculated that they might be included in the cost of the suite; at the price I was paying I felt they ought to be, but I had no intention of opening any to find out.

  Opposite the bar was a writing desk and chair in front of one of the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city. The view was stunning, and I gazed at it in silent awe for a while before turning back to notice a tablet computer on a stand at the corner of the desk. I picked it up and the screen lit up immediately with a lengthy menu.

  Options included Lights, Windows, Climate, TV, Internet, Safe, Butler, Front Desk, Room Service, House Keeping and Security. I tapped on Lights and glanced up to see what the effect had been. Nothing had changed, so I looked back at the screen to see I’d opened a sub-menu with a vast array of choices and settings.

  Like a child with a new toy, I played for a while with the lights and all of the other things I could change in the room, but the novelty soon wore off and I went back to the main menu. I was about to put the tablet down when I noticed the Safe menu again. I surveyed the room but couldn’t see any sign of one, so I tapped the menu to find a dialogue box that read Please create a password to open the safe. After some consideration, I put in 1lottery as a harmless joke. The next screen indicated that the password was set and presented a diagram of the room, showing a red dot on one wall. I looked up in time to see a painting swinging away from the wall, revealing the safe behind it.

  I had a look inside, even though I knew it would be empty. I thought about putting in the lottery ticket, but I didn’t feel like letting it out of my sight, even for the undoubtedly greater security, and left it in my wallet. I tapped Close on the tablet, and the safe door shut and locked itself before the picture swung back into place with a barely audible click. I tried pulling at the side of the painting, to see if I could move it, but it wouldn’t budge. The screen had gone back to its main menu, and when I tapped Safe again, it came up with Please enter your password.

  I put the tablet back on the desk and went into the bedroom, which was every bit as impressive as the main room. A king-size bed with cabinets on either side and a padded bench at its foot occupied most of the space, but there was plenty of room left for a coffee table with three club chairs around it and a large dressing table against the opposite wall. Another giant TV was recessed into the wall above it. Two more doors led to a walk-in wardrobe and the lavishly appointed bathroom, complete with a freestanding bath and a separate shower cubicle with twin heads, presumably in case I wanted to shower with a friend.

  I laid my new clothes out on the bed before returning to the bathroom. On a shelf behind his and hers sinks, the hotel had provided every kind of toiletry product a guest could need, including razors and toothbrushes, all in sealed hygienic packages. I emptied my jacket pockets and put my stuff on the far end of the wash stand, stripped off and threw my clothes into a corner near the door. My feet were instantly caressed by the underfloor heating. Was there anything the hotel hadn’t thought of to make their guests comfortable?

  I stepped into the shower and took ten minutes to lather my body and wash my hair, trying out all the different shower settings before deciding I liked the massage pulse best. Eventually, I turned off the taps and dried myself with a warm towel from a heated cabinet beside the cubicle. The same box provided a warm, fluffy bathrobe, and as I put it on I felt exhilarated. If this was the life of a millionaire, then I was definitely going to enjoy being wealthy.

  Wandering back into the bedroom, I contemplated lounging in the suite and watching TV before I went to bed, but rapidly abandoned that plan. Although I had everything I needed in the room, I didn’t feel like being on my own. I needed to be around other people – not necessarily to talk to, I was quite happy to sit and watch without engaging in conversation, but I did like the idea of talking to the pretty waitress again.

  I sat on the bed ready to get dressed, and it was then I realised I didn’t have any fresh underwear. I sneered at my lack of forethought, and I considered calling room service to ask them to bring me some. I felt sure it probably wasn’t an unusual request for them, but I was too embarrassed to make the call, so I collected my pants and socks from the bathroom, and put them back on.

  It flattened my effervescent mood, but I felt happier when I put on my new clothes and shoes. I slipped the watch onto my wrist and checked myself in the mirror. The expensive attire had elevated my appearance and my bearing, leaving me buoyed up by the result. I gathered up my wallet and phone from the wash stand and put them in my new jacket, then I headed back down to the lounge.

  Despite being past midnight, the bar was still busy, though there were a few more empty tables. I sat down and looked in vain for the waitress. A waiter came and took my orde
r for a beer, which I charged to the room, and when I asked him about her, he told me the waitress had finished her shift and gone home. Disappointed, I scanned the room to see if there was anyone who might be interested in having some company, but most of the people were in groups, and I could only see a couple of guys who were on their own. One of them was busy with some paperwork, which he’d spread all over his table – he didn’t look like he’d be happy to be disturbed. The other guy was absorbed in his phone.

  This reminded me that I’d been planning to check my bank balance. There was no one sitting close enough to see what I was doing, so I pulled out my phone. The screen still showed the lottery result and, laughing inwardly at my irrationality, I opened my wallet just enough to check the ticket for the umpteenth time. I refreshed the web page, to convince myself the numbers hadn’t somehow changed, but they were still a match. Once again, the nagging voice in my head worried about having committed so much to my credit cards, but I quietened it with the knowledge that even if something went wrong with the lottery, I could always go back in time to before I’d arrived at the hotel, and then I wouldn’t have to pay for anything.

  If I did that, would I still have the clothes and watch, or would they simply vanish? I couldn’t see how that could happen if I was still wearing them. After all, I’d typed the lottery numbers into my phone and they hadn’t disappeared when it travelled with me through time. Finally, I pulled up my banking app and logged in. There was no record of any money being withdrawn from the cash machine, and since it was long past the time I took it out, I’d got the money for free.

  An array of possibilities entered my head, and I must have been staring into space, thinking about all the free cash at my disposal, because I didn’t notice the woman standing beside me until she spoke.

  ‘Is this seat taken?’ she asked. ‘Is it okay if I join you?’

  Four