Read Online A Window into Time (Novella) by Peter F. Hamilton - Free Book Online
Authors: Peter F. Hamilton
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don’t like beer.”
“You’ve tried some then, lad? Good on you.”
“I don’t like the smell,” I told him. “Olfactory response is a strong indicator of taste.”
“Blimy. A Proctor who doesn’t like beer. Can’t have that. We’ll have to break you in slowly, eh, lad? Start you off on some ladybeer.”
“On what?”
“Ladybeer: a shandy, lad. A shandy.”
“Oh.”
“He’ll be all right,” Dad said to Barney.
“Now, you make sure you order a starter as well as a dessert,” Gran told me. “I still think you’re too thin.”
I opened the menu. It was huge, and mainly fish, which is the biggest cause of food poisoning (apart from rice in takeaways), but fortunately all the dishes had an English translation underneath so I could avoid the really dangerous bits.
Barney clapped his hands loudly. “Come on, come on, garson; a man can die of thirst in here.”
“Behave,” Gran said in a sharp voice.
“It’s all right, girl; they all know me in here. They should mind.” He turned to me, suddenly solemn. “I knew what it was like here before they built this town.”
“Do you?”
“Ooh, Jules,” Gran said, patting my hand. “You should listen to this. It’s right spooky.”
“Soon as we came here,” Barney said, “I knew it. I knew the land, the hills, the shore. Didn’t I, girl?”
“He did,” Gran agreed. “Very first time, when we drove in along the coast road, he said to me: Girl, he said, there’s some big rocks around the next corner. And do you know what?”
“There were some big rocks around the corner?” I asked.
“There were, Jules. No word of lie.”
“I remember it from decades ago,” Barney said. “Turn of the century, like—last century; when this was just empty land. Banus built the marina back in the early seventies, and the rest of the developments sprouted out after that, until you reach what you got today. So I reckon I must have lived here in an earlier life. I picked up Spanish dead quick, too. Like it’s my second language.”
I just stared at him in shock. “What else do you remember?”
“The land. I remember the land. And the sea. It was hard times back then. I reckon I fought in the civil war.”
“Which side?” Dad muttered.
“You can laugh, son,” Barney said stiffly, “but it’s real, Jules. I swear it.”
“Do you have a good memory, Barney?” I asked. It was amazing. I’d never thought anyone else in the family had a memory like mine, especially not Barney.
“Best there is.” He twitched a grin. “Never forgot a debt back in the day, did I?” He nudged Gran.
“He didn’t,” Gran agreed.
“I still remember them now. All the amounts, down to the last penny.”
“I remember everything, too,” I told him. “The last time you visited us in Yaxley, three years seven months ago, you were wearing Levi’s jeans and a green shirt, with black-and-yellow Reebok trainers.”
“Blimey!” Barney grunted.
“And, Gran, you were in an orange blouse and a black cardigan with silver ladybug buttons. Your handbag was leopardskin with a gold chain strap.”
“I remember that handbag,” she exclaimed. “I’ve still got it somewhere. Years out of season now,” she confided to Rachel.
“And you, lad, had red shorts and a T-shirt with them daft Minions on it,” Barney said smugly. “The ones off’ve the film.”
“I did. Yes!”
Barney gave Dad a sly glance. “Jules, I think the brains skipped a generation.”
Rachel was looking at me with a very surprised expression. “Do you really remember everything?”
I nodded. “Yes. I keep telling you I do.” Seventeen times in total, now.
“What about you, Dave?” she asked Dad. “Can you do it?”
“Not quite like that,” he said with an irritated grimace.
“So did you have a past life?” I asked Barney.
“No other way to explain it, lad.”
“That makes him a Buddhist,” Dad said with a chuckle. “Imagine that.”
“I’m not a bleeding Buddhist.
“You’ve tried some then, lad? Good on you.”
“I don’t like the smell,” I told him. “Olfactory response is a strong indicator of taste.”
“Blimy. A Proctor who doesn’t like beer. Can’t have that. We’ll have to break you in slowly, eh, lad? Start you off on some ladybeer.”
“On what?”
“Ladybeer: a shandy, lad. A shandy.”
“Oh.”
“He’ll be all right,” Dad said to Barney.
“Now, you make sure you order a starter as well as a dessert,” Gran told me. “I still think you’re too thin.”
I opened the menu. It was huge, and mainly fish, which is the biggest cause of food poisoning (apart from rice in takeaways), but fortunately all the dishes had an English translation underneath so I could avoid the really dangerous bits.
Barney clapped his hands loudly. “Come on, come on, garson; a man can die of thirst in here.”
“Behave,” Gran said in a sharp voice.
“It’s all right, girl; they all know me in here. They should mind.” He turned to me, suddenly solemn. “I knew what it was like here before they built this town.”
“Do you?”
“Ooh, Jules,” Gran said, patting my hand. “You should listen to this. It’s right spooky.”
“Soon as we came here,” Barney said, “I knew it. I knew the land, the hills, the shore. Didn’t I, girl?”
“He did,” Gran agreed. “Very first time, when we drove in along the coast road, he said to me: Girl, he said, there’s some big rocks around the next corner. And do you know what?”
“There were some big rocks around the corner?” I asked.
“There were, Jules. No word of lie.”
“I remember it from decades ago,” Barney said. “Turn of the century, like—last century; when this was just empty land. Banus built the marina back in the early seventies, and the rest of the developments sprouted out after that, until you reach what you got today. So I reckon I must have lived here in an earlier life. I picked up Spanish dead quick, too. Like it’s my second language.”
I just stared at him in shock. “What else do you remember?”
“The land. I remember the land. And the sea. It was hard times back then. I reckon I fought in the civil war.”
“Which side?” Dad muttered.
“You can laugh, son,” Barney said stiffly, “but it’s real, Jules. I swear it.”
“Do you have a good memory, Barney?” I asked. It was amazing. I’d never thought anyone else in the family had a memory like mine, especially not Barney.
“Best there is.” He twitched a grin. “Never forgot a debt back in the day, did I?” He nudged Gran.
“He didn’t,” Gran agreed.
“I still remember them now. All the amounts, down to the last penny.”
“I remember everything, too,” I told him. “The last time you visited us in Yaxley, three years seven months ago, you were wearing Levi’s jeans and a green shirt, with black-and-yellow Reebok trainers.”
“Blimey!” Barney grunted.
“And, Gran, you were in an orange blouse and a black cardigan with silver ladybug buttons. Your handbag was leopardskin with a gold chain strap.”
“I remember that handbag,” she exclaimed. “I’ve still got it somewhere. Years out of season now,” she confided to Rachel.
“And you, lad, had red shorts and a T-shirt with them daft Minions on it,” Barney said smugly. “The ones off’ve the film.”
“I did. Yes!”
Barney gave Dad a sly glance. “Jules, I think the brains skipped a generation.”
Rachel was looking at me with a very surprised expression. “Do you really remember everything?”
I nodded. “Yes. I keep telling you I do.” Seventeen times in total, now.
“What about you, Dave?” she asked Dad. “Can you do it?”
“Not quite like that,” he said with an irritated grimace.
“So did you have a past life?” I asked Barney.
“No other way to explain it, lad.”
“That makes him a Buddhist,” Dad said with a chuckle. “Imagine that.”
“I’m not a bleeding Buddhist.
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