A Question of Time

Terms

About the Author

David McCaddon is an award-winning playwright and a published author of modern crime thrillers. He lives in Cheshire and before retiring in 2017 to concentrate on his writing, he was a seasoned IT consultant who had worked in computing for over 46 years and spent the past 34 years specialising in police systems. His extensive experience has involved him developing computer systems throughout a large number of the UK’s police forces and worldwide including Australia, Hong Kong, Botswana, USA and Canada.

Dedication

For my dear parents, Len and Nancy McCaddon.

Copyright Information ©

David McCaddon (2021)

The right of David McCaddon to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781528997980 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781528997997 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published (2021)

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd

25 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5LQ

Acknowledgement

A Question of Time is a very different book from my previously published crime novels – Following Digital Footprints, In Digital Pursuit and The Final Footprint. It’s set initially in North Wales and Chester in 1967. Whilst the book is of course purely fictional, I have fond memories of that time and I have appreciated the reminders of the area that I have received from a number of old and new friends in Buckley, North Wales.

I am especially appreciative of my family and friends with their ongoing encouragement and support. A huge thank you to Annabelle Hull who has helped me with my writing projects over the years both on and off stage and a special thank you to one of my fellow choristers, Andy Maxfield, whose input has also been very much appreciated.

Above all, thank you to my dear wife Joan, Simon, Karen and Jake for your understanding when I have disappeared for hours on end to work on the books.

Prologue

Chester

Saturday, 25th November 1967, 11.45pm

No one had seen him sneak into the alleyway, he’d made absolutely sure of that. To be honest he was well dressed for once and he looked ready for a good night out so no one would have possibly given him a second glance anyway. He’d even had time to have a shave and dab on some of that aftershave that he’d hardly used; the one that his dear old mother had bought him for Christmas a couple of years ago, just before she’d passed away. As he dabbed it on, he thought to himself, In any case why should anyone notice me, they’ve never noticed me before. He was right they’d never noticed him before and in fact he’d always felt he was ignored even throughout all of his school days right the way through from nursery.

He was the one who always seemed to be on his own in the corner of the playground; the one who was always last to be chosen for the football team or the one not even invited on the school trip. The one they picked on, the one who they had bullied time after time, the one they chose to have their head ducked in the school toilets. He had been so glad to leave school when he was fifteen and at least try and find his own way through life.

But for weeks now in his head he’d gone through the same routine. He’d sat in bed thinking it all through, over and over again. But tonight was different, much different, this was for real. Oh yes, this was the night, it had to be tonight, the night when all his careful and meticulous planning would be tested to the absolute limit.

After driving around the city centre to find somewhere suitable, he’d managed to park his old rusting Morris Minor car out of sight just down the road from the junction of Music Hall Passage with Leen Lane. He crouched down in the dimly lit alleyway just behind a large pile of discarded cardboard boxes where no one could possibly see him and he waited patiently. He looked anxiously at his watch again. It seemed as though he’d been there for hours. He could hear his heart beating faster than normal, almost racing at times. Minutes later the clock on the nearby cathedral chimed heralding in the Sunday morning and he knew that anytime now the crowds would be leaving the pubs and clubs in Northgate Street and beyond, laughing and joking as they headed for their various buses, trains and taxi journeys home.

Soon would come his big moment. This was it. He had planned it almost with military precision and knew that exactly thirty minutes later, once she had tidied up the bar area and locked up the club, she would head off to the taxi rank and take this same route, the same one she took every Saturday night without fail. He’d watched her for weeks now and he knew her every routine, you could even set your watch by her.

He could now hear the laughter and shouting from the last of the midnight revellers as they made their way home. He watched in disgust as one partygoer clearly the worse for wear took a slight detour and urinated against a brick wall just a few feet away from the side of him. Gradually the footsteps died away and suddenly it was all quiet again, it was so peaceful you could almost hear a pin drop. Then out of the darkness he could hear footsteps approaching, there was no mistaking it, stiletto heels picking their way over the uneven cobble stones.

He peeked out from behind the wall and there she stood on her own under a badly lit street light momentarily stopping to light up a cigarette. She stood for a brief moment and inhaled, relaxed for once after another hard night’s work. A mixture of excitement and fear came over him.

It was definitely her alright, there was no mistaking that long red coat she always wore and from where he stood, he could even smell that particular brand of perfume, what was it? Ah yes, that’s right, Zambra, he’d even tried to find it in the shops for some strange reason. He thought to himself, question after question in his head.

Was this really the moment he’d waited for all those weeks or should he try again next week. What if it all went wrong, what if she hadn’t been in town tonight, what if it wasn’t her? It had to be her of course, he knew her every move, he’d tracked her down before. Could he possibly wait another week? A voice inside his head reminded him that this was the moment he’d waited for and not to be such a fool.

He’d gone over and over the entire sequence of events in his mind. It had to be now, why wait any longer she’d humiliated him enough times in the past and now it was his turn, his turn to do the laughing, his turn to wipe that grin off her smirking face, his turn to get his revenge for turning him down in the first place and making him look a fool in front of everyone.

In his mind this was his night.

Part 1

Chapter 1

Buckley, North Wales, Two Weeks Earlier

Saturday, 11th November 1967 5.15pm

Have you seen my new shoes Mum? I’ve looked everywhere and I can’t find them anywhere. I’m going to miss the damn bus if I don’t get a move on. Sid and Jonno will be waiting for me and they’ll probably go on ahead without me,’ came the shout from the top of the stairs.

‘No, I haven’t seen your damn shoes Alan,’ came the brusque reply from the front room, ‘they are probably where you blooming well left them. I mean how old are you? Eighteen years of age! I could understand it if you were five. In fact, you were less trouble when you were five. Anyway, why do you need a bus to go to the Tivoli yer lazy sod, it’s only up the road? Now shush be quiet for once, I’m trying to watch the start of this new Doctor Who episode, it’s just started.’

‘I told you before Mum, we are not going to the Tiv tonight, it’s Chester for a change. Anyway, I’ve found them now, they were under the bed,’ came the muffled response from the bedroom.

Alan slipped on the smart new pair of black Cuban heels he’d recently bought and gave them a quick polish with what had been his clean handkerchief. They fitted like a glove, bit tight at first but they certainly looked the business.

He went over to the bathroom cabinet and splashed some Brut aftershave on. As he stood in front of the wall mirror, checking himself over, he thought. Oh yes, the new hipsters and the white button-down Ben Sherman shirt worked well together. I’m definitely in with a chance tonight particularly when I get in that ultra-violet glow of the disco lights.

Alan Evans made his way down the stairs and into the small front room where his mother was sitting chomping her way through a small tray of broken toffee. She was completely engrossed in watching the old black and white TV which had certainly seen better days in the corner of the room.

‘Toffee will do you no good Mum. Remember you nearly broke your dentures on those a few months ago, just go easy on it.’

‘Are you still here? I was hoping for a nice peaceful Saturday night, there’s no peace in this house.’

‘Sorry I’m off now Mum, can you please tell Dad when you see him that I promise to pay him back for that loan next pay day,’ replied Alan as he combed his hair and took one final look in the mirror on the welsh dresser.’

‘Will do, hmm nice shoes our Alan better than those stupid winkle pickers you used to wear. God knows what they must have done to your feet and I dread to think how much you must have paid for them.’

‘And a lot more comfortable Mum, I got a bargain according to Sid who said he’d…’

‘Right, now shush be quiet, it’s coming to an interesting bit here.’

‘No, wait don’t tell me, eh hang on are you sure you are not watching a Carry on film, that’s Bernard Bresslaw isn’t it?’

‘Yes, it is actually, he does act in other things you know. I can’t watch anything in peace. Now out you go me lad and don’t be late. Don’t you forget to catch the last bus home and please come in quietly as your dad will be home from a double shift at the steelworks and he’ll be in bed. Oh, and another thing go easy on the drink we don’t want a repeat of last weekend now do we?’

‘Yes Mum, right Mum, three bags full Mum,’ he muttered to himself as he grabbed his black leather jacket off the banister and made his way out of the house.

As soon as he left the house the cold wind hit him full on, he zipped his jacket up and thought to himself that winter was definitely now on its way.

He quickly headed down Bistre Avenue normally tree lined but now looking bare without the leaves that had long gone. As he crossed the road towards the town centre bus stop, he looked again at his watch and realised he really had to get a move on if he was to catch the next bus. It was cold, very cold in fact for the time of year and although it was only just after five thirty the night had already started to close in fast. The clocks had been put back an hour a couple of weeks back heralding the real arrival of autumn and winter.

As he got nearer to the bus stop, he could see his old school mates Sid and Jonno who were seated on the old wooden bench in front of the library waiting for him. They were chattering away like two old men. The three of them had been lifelong friends attending primary, secondary and even Sunday school together.

‘What time do you call this Evo?’ shouted Sid,’ we’ve just missed one of the buses having to wait for you. Any later and we were about to give up on the Chester trip and head to the Tiv instead without you. We were just chatting about whether we had time to go and grab a quick beer across the road in the Black Lion.’

‘Yeah, I’m sorry about this,’ replied Evo,’ I dozed off this afternoon in front of the fire and if it hadn’t been for my mum waking me, I’d have probably still been there. Oh, happy birthday Jonno by the way, I had almost forgot, it’s legal for you now then?’

‘It is indeed. Cheers mate, anyway what’s that smell Evo?’ asked Jonno laughing and sniffing the air and wafting his hand, knowing full well where the after-shave smell was coming from.

‘What smell? I don’t know what you are on about! It’s just a little something I dabbed on for the ladies this evening, works like a babe magnet apparently, well according to the adverts although not that I need it of course,’ smirked Evo with an air of confidence.

‘I don’t think you are really meant to splash it all over. I’m surprised you can even breathe with that lot on. Well, let’s hope it works for all of us, there seems to be enough of it to go around,’ laughed Jonno out loud, ‘I tell you what though to be honest I wouldn’t mind a night at the Tivoli tonight instead, at least we can walk home from there. Come on what do you think?’

‘Sod off Jonno, we go there most weeks, you’ll have to give old Mickey the DJ a miss tonight, it won’t do you any harm. We promised ourselves a night in Chester this week and that’s what we are doing. In any case the bus will be here in a minute.’

‘I can’t understand why we are not even going by car, it’d be quicker. I mean what’s the point in you spending all that money on lessons and then passing your test Sid? You said we’d have complete freedom once you passed your test, a chance to see the world you said! I thought we’d be going further afield by now like Rhyl or Talacre or somewhere?’

‘Look it might be quicker Jonno but haven’t you been reading the papers lately? I’m afraid those days have gone with the introduction of that breathalyser thing the other week. Yer can’t take any chances these days mate I can tell you. The rozzers will be after me like a shot and I for one am not going to risk it. I wouldn’t be able to have a beer or two with you pair. I’d have to sit there and watch you lot enjoying yourselves. Anyway, Rhyl will be cold this time of year, it is November you know.’

‘I wasn’t thinking about sitting on the bloody beach mate, there are a few nightclubs and discos there that are still open you know even in the winter,’ replied Jonno as he kicked an imaginary football against the library wall.

‘I’m not sure his beaten up old thing would have got us there anyway,’ snorted Evo sarcastically

‘Course it would, it’s a great little motor, just needs a little bit of TLC that’s all.’

‘And a new engine of course Sid!’

‘Just look at the time anyway we should have been in the pub now downing our first pint,’ chipped in Jonno changing the subject and pointing up to the clock above the old library steps.

‘Come on, never mind all that, here comes the bus,’ said Sid. ‘Do you know I can already taste that first pint, it probably won’t even touch the sides. Come on chaps, last one on is a cissy. Just a pity Glyn couldn’t have joined us, man flu apparently or something like that.’

‘Yeah shame that, he’d have enjoyed an evening in Chester,’ said Evo holding out his arm for the bus driver to stop who had every intention of stopping for them anyway.

The three of them climbed aboard the Crosville double decker bus and just managed to find a seat right at the back upstairs. The bus was noisy and packed out with the usual partygoers heading to the city centre for a Saturday night out.

There was a strong smell of fish and chips as one or two of the passengers had decided to have an early tea or a late lunch on the way. It was so busy upstairs the conductor had a job making his way through the crowd to collect the fares.

Soon they were heading past the Hawker Siddeley aircraft factory at Broughton and heading down the long straight road in the direction of Saltney. On the right-hand side, they could now see and smell the huge bonfires that were blazing away in the fields.

‘It bloody well stinks around here and I don’t mean your aftershave this time Evo,’ sniffed Jonno getting up to close the small side window.

‘Well, what do you expect Jonno? If you want my opinion, they…’ remarked Sid.

‘We don’t!’ came back the reply in unison.

‘Come on, I mean it’s a damn shame this foot and mouth epidemic can’t be sorted out in some other way like vaccination or something,’ continued Sid, ‘I mean it must be heart breaking for these farmers having to destroy their cattle. It’s their livelihood after all and I shouldn’t wonder if some of them never get over it.’

‘The government will help them out with funding surely?’ responded Evo, ‘I mean they won’t be out of pocket, will they?’

‘That’s not the point, they’ll have to start all over again and some of them will think it’s not even worth it. It will take years before the farming industry gets over this, you’ll see. I’m just glad I didn’t go into farming after leaving school.’

‘It started in Shropshire, in, er, Oswestry apparently last month. Well, that’s what I read in the paper anyway,’ replied Jonno, ‘but amazing how the damn disease has spread so fast across the country. The smell is dreadful, I think I’m going to be sick.’

‘Keep it for later mate, a pint will soon sort you out, we’ll be there soon.’

Twenty minutes later and having stopped at almost every bus stop en-route the packed bus finally pulled into Bridge Street, Chester where there was already a queue of weary hardworking shop assistants and shoppers waiting to make the return journey home.

Everyone piled off the bus in a somewhat disorderly manner all heading off in their various directions and eager to get that first drink in.

‘So where to first?’ asked Jonno, ‘Well, I quite fancy the Dublin Packet or maybe the Clockwork Orange for starters, we haven’t been in either of those for a while. Do you know I have a strange feeling that I might just tap on tonight!’

‘Well, you are not likely to in the Dublin Packet mate. It has to be the Boathouse of course, we’ll have a swift one in there and then make our way up through the park to Quaintways later on!’ replied Sid who was already heading down Lower Bridge Street towards the river bank.

‘Hang on Sid, can’t we just go to a pub nearer the city centre. It’s out of