Blink {Featured}

Chapter Eight

(17y) APRIL 2005, 18.00

The photo was in John's hand. Sweat shone on his nervous brow. Could he save his dad? If there was any hope he had to try it.

In the background John heard a news reporter's voice drifting up to his room from the tele downstairs. 'The Collector strikes again, and this time on the outskirts of York.'

Everything around him seemed dulled, silenced, muffled, and even the noise from the tele diminished as he focused on the photo. The irony was that John had been in this moment over and over, Blinking into this last photo of Dad hundreds of times. Now that he knew he could change time, trying to save Dad was the only thing on his mind. Fuck the old lady, fuck Acko and the Head, fuck everything in the whole world. Nothing else mattered.

'I'm coming for you Dad,' he whispered, touching the photo's clingy film one last time. Dad smiled the same smile John knew so well. Without wasting another second, John Blinked into the picture and spun down through the darkness to the film wall.

'Come on Diane, leave me alone. I'm an old man.' Dad joked on as he grabbed a triangle of toast off the kitchen table and his work jacket off the chair. With the toast in his mouth, he grinned as Mam took another photo.

'Got it!' she exclaimed, put the camera down, then flung her arms around her husband's neck. 'I love you, Dan Finnie.'

Dad moved his head back. 'Yeah. And I love toast. Back off woman.'

Just the way it always was. John stood at the kitchen window, just in case Dad or Mam spotted him. God, each time he saw this it ached deep inside him, but this time there was a fire of hope and purpose burning alongside that ache, and it made the world of difference.

'Call in sick, Dan. Call in sick, and we'll have a fun day out.'

Dad sighed, exasperated. 'I would love to Di, you know that; but this is overtime, and that means double time.'

Mam removed her arms from around his neck. 'You work too hard.' The joy had left her voice.

Dad smiled and cupped her face in his hands, kissing her. 'I work to better us, woman.'

He'd always been determined to make the best of things.

She kissed him back. 'Yeah, I know.'

Dad looked out of the window, and John ducked as fast as he could. It took a minute to get to the side of the road, and the house's door creaked open just as John reached the sidewalk. Dad left their average looking house, kissing Mam one last time at the door and throwing the jacket on as he rushed down the garden pathway to the gate.

John timed his steps: one, two, three, four. Yes, it would work perfectly. Dad struggled for a moment with his tie and adjusted his grip on the bag. Mam and his younger self stood at the door. Dad wasn't looking where he was going. Oh, god. Each time this moment caused John excruciating pain. If only Dad had looked where he was going. Dad waved at little John and Mam in their doorway and his foot touched the tarmac on the road. John could see the black Ford speeding down the road from the other side. This was the moment. In the next two seconds Dad would be a goner, had been a goner...but maybe it would change this time round.

With a deep intake of breath, John walked straight into Dad and knocked him back onto the pavement just as the Ford screeched to a stop. John knew the Ford would have braked too late, would have hit Dad so hard that he would have died, but nobody else did. The moment seemed to slow down, Dad's tie floated up, papers from his briefcase flew mid-air. Dad's face looked shocked and a bit irritated, and across the way, the bus's brakes squealed and hissed to a stop.