Chapter 12

Phyllis was also going to feature in stories as a female entrepreneur in a mostly male trade, and I suggested that the P.R. man would be expected to press for a slot in the lunchtime ‘One O’clock Gang’ show on STV, preferably using an interview with Phyllis as the widowed businesswoman who was becoming a business icon. Phyllis was not so sure of that exposure, but I reminded her that she was just going to be talking about her business activities, and she knew how to do that.

I added, “You will probably encourage more customers to come to your market as a result of your appearance on the show. Publicity is always helpful if you are selling something to the public. In this case it is your market you are pushing, not you personally.”

This little chat was enough to get Phyllis started, and after a bit of advice from Sandy, she found a journalist who had the contacts and the brass neck to push the TV programmers to think seriously about it. Within the week the dealer parking area was levelled and fenced, with gate installed, and the dealers began parking there. I found that when they brought more stock by lorry, if the lorry was not leaving immediately, it appeared in the dealer parking area. Most times the reason was to do with legal restrictions on long distance driving with adequate breaks to recover from tiredness. As this was for road safety reasons, we had no objections to these using the reserved parking.

This went well for a couple of weeks, then we had a night when vandals got into the car park and scratched some of the vehicles, leaving offensive marks. Phyllis was asked by dealers if a night parking attendant could be employed to prevent this, so she asked if they would pay for the attendant for as many hours as was required. They balked at the expense this would entail, and asked if she could look at other less expensive options instead.

Phyllis reported the problem to us, and Sandy brightened up. She suggested, “If we knew when this was happening, possibly we could go back and punish them when they left.”

“Alternatively,” I proposed, “We could wire the fence to set off a klaxon if the wire was disturbed. That would scare them off in future.”

Sandy thought for a moment, then argued, “That might work for a short time, but they would soon suss it out and look for a way to get over the fence without setting off the alarm. The other worry would be a passing dog or cat brushing against the fence, causing a false alarm; or the vandals might think it fun to set off the klaxon at irregular times, just to annoy the neighbours.”

I saw her arguments, and asked how we could know when to catch them at their vandalism.

“Apply a rota of watchkeeping using our machine, until we see them appear at that first occasion”, she said. “You or I could use the time machine to be there for a set time of an hour, and if they didn’t appear, the next visit would be an hour after that, and so on until we found them.”

“And then what could we do, Sandy? There may be half a dozen of them, not just one or two.”

“We could either get hold of them and thump them with a shillelagh or a stout walking stick, and tell them that this is the cars fighting back! Or spray them with a coloured dye on their faces, to show who the culprits are.”

“But Sandy,” I argued back, “You would have to catch them one at a time to do that, and have to do it all on the one night or the word would spread and they would stay as a protective bunch next time.”

She glowered at me for being so sensible a husband, but still she spoke softly.

“I suppose you are right, my love. What alternative do you see?”

“Ah, I hadn’t thought ahead. Let me see ... How about using the time machine for me to appear behind one of the vandals, kick him hard, then disappear? Then do the same for the others, so they all seem to be getting kicked at about the same time?”

“Can we do that with the machine?”

“We can, if the machine regards the whole car park as the destination. Each time of arrival is just after the previous arrival time.”

“But, Bob, what if it always returns you to the exact same spot in the car park?”

“Damn! I should have thought of that before jumping in with that idea. Okay, scrub that thought. Looks like I have to arrive outside the fence and do what ever I can after they get back over the fence. Any suggestions?”

“Water? If there is a fire hydrant hatch nearby, connect a hose during daylight and leave it curled up and unobtrusive. When you arrive at night, you turn on the water with the water key as soon as they leave after their vandalism, and soak them all thoroughly. They can’t avoid the hosing and get to you, so they will run away instead. You shouldn’t stand anywhere near the hydrant point when you spray them, so that they can’t think of where to find the water source next time, and after you finish you carry the hose back to the market and place it inside where you can access it again. You can have someone keep a general eye out for the car park area and if any young man is seen searching the area, you try to get him held and reported to the police for attempted vandalism. Even the police identifying him will be a step towards deterrence.”

I had something at the back of my mind that my employer had said recently. At last it came back. “Sandy, your Daddy told me not long ago that ownership of all pipework for water supply is in the hands of the local water board, up to where the water enters your residence where the stopcock is. Doesn’t that mean that the fire hydrant points belong to the water board?”

Sandy smiled cheekily, saying, “As most people don’t know that, an occasional temporary use of a fire hydrant point will probably not be noticed, and most likely not reported either unless it causes an obstacle...”

It was all a bit of a nuisance, but I solved part of the question by getting our architect to ask the water board for a plan of the water supply lines near the market, purportedly for an improved supply for the market’s users.

They happily obliged him, so I simply had to examine the plan, which was overlaid on a large-scale O.S. plan that now showed in red lines all the water pipes in relation to the streets and the locations of connections for the fire brigade to access water. All of the hydrant points were unfortunately in the street above a water main.

This actually made sense, as the points were there primarily for the fire brigade to use, and if the water main runs under the street, having the connection there was the natural solution.

As a result, it stymied the idea of a water hose, as any obstacle in the road would cause traffic problems, particularly at night when it is difficult to see anything in the road surface, and a hose in a hole is not helpful at all to traffic. We were back to square one, looking for the best way to put the fear of retribution into the vandals. I now proposed a stout walking stick, to whack their legs and give them painful reminders of the episode.

Sandy could not come up with something better, so we went with that for now. First, I visited the place in person, to fix my arrival point near the gate, and noted the best location data I could manage in relation to the O.S. plan. Next, I did a trip back there at a time just before dusk, to establish without being noticed, where my arrival would actually be, using the machine’s parameters. That proved to be a few yards away from the gate, but that was fine, for there was no streetlamp close enough to illuminate me – which was also probably why the vandals thought they could have their fun and escape easily.

After a little thought about operating in darkness, I chose to wear very dark clothing for the event, so I would be merely a black figure in a black background. I could get one of the girls to darken my face and hands with cosmetics, completing the dark figure theme. A pair of rubber-soled shoes would keep my movements quiet in the night. I took a leisurely walk among the antique dealers’ stalls in the market, asking about walking sticks or similar objects.

I came away with an Irish blackthorn walking stick, stout and suited to my planned night action. It was one of the cheaper items, probably because they were in fairly common use, but the black colouring made it just right for me. I was now ready to go, plus we knew when the vandalism was enacted, so that was the time fixed for me to appear.

When I did drop in, I saw them help each other over the fence. There appeared to be just two of them: teenage boys. I moved slowly to where I had a background of a darkened industrial building, and stood still, waiting for them to return. I heard faint squeaking and scraping noises as the vandalism was perpetrated, but I could never have been here if the vandalism had been prevented; it had to happen.

After a while they came together and returned to the same spot where they had climbed over. The first one got over with a boost from his associate, and when he turned his back to me to help his friend over, that gave me the chance to move in and whack the one outside the fence, squarely on the back of his legs. That caused him to collapse, pulling his fellow forward and over, where he tumbled to the ground, his attention all on his pal.

That fall allowed me to thump him in turn on the legs, making both lads howl in pain and shock. I now spoke, softly but clearly. “Don’t do it again, or you will get worse next time!” and I stepped away from them and back into the darkness of the night. I found myself against a building wall, and there stood motionless, dark clothing against a dark wall, so there was nothing for them to see in the night.

They helped each other to stand, then hirpled away to somewhere, probably to where they had left their bicycles stashed. Neither of them looked towards me in the surrounding darkness, but then I was transferred back to my own time, where Georgie was waiting anxiously. Sandy was away on business at the time.

“Do you need to go back and hit more of the vandals?” she asked me.

“No,” I responded. “There were only two and I whacked them both, and also warned them not to do it again, or worse could follow.”

“You propose to do it again?” she queried.

“Not if I can avoid it. I hope to have put the fear of retribution into them this time. What would you think, if you did such a thing and were immediately attacked as you tried to leave? You would be scared by how someone was able to spot you and punish you within moments of your crime. Note that actual punishment is not the deterrent. What deters people is the belief that they will be caught and punished. If they do not believe that they will be caught, they will act as if there was no deterrent. These two lads were caught and punished at once, so they know in their minds that it can happen again. That is the true deterrent.”

Georgie nodded. “I can see that; clever. It won’t deter any other possible vandals, though.”

“That is true, but word tends to get around, even if it is only in the form of a generalised warning: ‘Don’t mess with that car park, for they have some sort of warning system there.’ That is what I expect will spread around those who might consider vandalism. They will avoid this car park.”

“Interesting,” she remarked. “I suppose this is a male view of the world.”

“Vandalism does tend to be a male trait, I agree.”

Georgie frowned, and told me, “A little while ago I got a message from Carol while I waited here for you. Naomi took the phone call in the house, and rushed up to let me know, before hurrying back to the children. Carol had a funny story to tell you, but thinks it can wait until she gets home.”

“Funny story? What kind of funny?”

“Odd sort of tale, as I gathered from what Naomi was trying to say. It was something about an attempted robbery at one of the beauty salons, but the man was caught and handed over to the police. Wait for Carol to tell you the full story, Bob.”

“Sounds rather peculiar,” I mused, seeing that Georgie knew no more herself. I had to wait for Carol to inform me, but when she arrived, she seemed perfectly normal. After dinner, she indicated that she wanted to have a quiet word with me, and so we moved to my study.

“Carol, what was that phone call about?”

“Darling, it was a curious incident at our Helensburgh parlour. A man entered, carrying a cricket bat, and threatened our lady at the till where clients pay their bills. He demanded money, and she told him that most of the money was in the form of cheques which he couldn’t cash. There was just about ten pounds in money in the till. ‘Give me that!’ he demanded, and it was handed over. He then turned and walked back out of the shop, but almost immediately tripped and fell on the pavement. A man who had tripped him with his walking stick then hit him on the head with the stick, knocking the man out.

One of our staff phoned for the police, and as it happens there is a police station not very far away, so a policeman came running and apprehended the robber before he could regain consciousness. When the copper heard about a passer-by tripping the man and knocking him out, he asked where the man was, but he had long vanished. No-one knew where he came from or where he went. Wasn’t that peculiar?”

“It certainly was; extremely odd, in fact. What did you make of it?”

“My darling, the only thing I could think of, was that it was you!”

“Me? Why?”

“It is the only answer, for why would someone with a stick be right outside the shop door when the robber was leaving, to trip him up and hit him with the walking stick? For that matter, who else would think to whack him with the stick, for it was apparently just a man leaving the shop, except he was carrying a cricket bat? You had to have been there, ready to stop him getting away. And then the disappearing act afterwards? A normal person would wait there, to be a witness for the police investigation. You couldn’t hang around, for you were never there!”

“That’s got some logic behind it, Carol. Thank you, my love. Can you ask your staff for all the details they can remember? It will help me know what to do, if it is indeed me. I can go back there from any point in time, but I am not so sure about reaching an exact spot if I have not been there before. I’ll need to look into that question.”

Thus I discussed it with Sandy as soon as I could get together with her. Her current pregnancy did not seem to hamper either her normal business activities nor her thinking. If anything, she appeared more hyper-active, which fitted in with Georgie’s concern for her behaviour.

Sandy got me to buy a large-scale Ordnance Survey map of the location to identify relevant spots near the beauty shop. That was difficult to obtain but we managed, and once I had the map I selected the spot which was close but not too visible to passers-by and noted the co-ordinates.

The day I got the map I did a quick five-minute visit to near the shop to orient myself with the surrounding terrain and also measure the walking distance to the shop door, time-wise, without becoming noticeable. This would allow me to perform the spoiling action outside the shop door on the day of the action, and then walk back to my unobserved arrival spot to quickly depart the scene before the police appeared.

Surprisingly, my appearance was not exactly on target, but a few feet to one side; a bit more exposed to view, so I quickly moved to where I ought to have been. It must be that the Ordnance Survey positioning was not as accurate as the technology used by the time machine. However, such a minor discrepancy should make no difference to the job I had to undertake.

I proceeded with my timing of a walk to the beauty shop, wait for a minute or two, then walk back to my departure point. Three minutes seven seconds, plus or minuses a few seconds, so that was fine. I could set the machine for four minutes, giving myself a bit more leeway in case I was delayed crossing the road because of traffic in either direction. That done, I waited until I was whisked back home and could report on my findings.

Sandy was satisfied; Carol was excited; Georgie was surprised by the O.S. error, saying she thought they were extremely accurate in their measurements, as it was all done by triangulation based on an exactly measured base line. “I can’t see how their measurements could be off, even by a few feet,” she exclaimed. I pointed out that the O.S. triangulation was based on an original base line of something like fifty or a hundred miles long, and measured using metal measuring chains that were the best choice available in the era the work was done.

“That future technology, if based on satellites and exact timings, must work on a base line of many hundreds of miles long, and so the margin of error must reduce to just a tiny amount. That accounts for the O.S. map being a little bit off, in my estimation.”

“Perhaps,” she conceded, “But in that case, they must have newer methods of measuring distances and times, to achieve such exact geographic positioning. Our surveyors today use theodolites and calculating machines for properly delineating boundary edges of properties, so they are pretty good at what they do. I learned about that through the agency, years back. What must surveyors, fifty or sixty years from now, be able to achieve?”

“Quite,” I agreed. “Technology is already proceeding in leaps and bounds, ever since the war encouraged all sorts of developments. I hope it keeps us out of going to war again, though when the machine gun was invented by Maxim, he thought it would stop wars due to its efficiency in killing people. The American Civil War and the First World War proved him wrong. Mankind seems to accept all more efficient ways of killing soldiers, with hardly a thought for the men who are mown down.”

“Anyway,” Georgie said, “You will have to wait for the machine to recharge its power systems or batteries or something, before it will be ready for another round trip. Come and have a cup of tea, and one or two of my scones, buttered.”

“Yes, please!” I quickly accepted. I was a fan of Georgie’s scones. Her pancakes were fine too, but her scones were truly excellent. Her church guild members hated it when they held a competition for scones, as hers always won, no matter who was judging them. Mind you, when it was an inter-club competition, they were thankful for her help in winning.

The girls decided what I would wear for my intervention at Helensburgh. Carol had been told that the staff had only noticed a man outside wearing a raincoat and a hat, carrying a walking stick or cane; they were not clear on this, as everything had happened so quickly. That suited me; confusion is helpful in hiding my identity

My ladies agreed on the same blackthorn walking stick, and they produced a hat from somewhere. It looked to be a trilby, and where it came from I had no idea, but Carol had suggested a charity shop, and that was where they found it, matching my head size. The dun-coloured coat was my own, and as the colour had not been mentioned by the frightened beauty staff, that was fine for me to go with. Most raincoats are a similar shade.

The timing had to be pretty much to the second, but the machine did not seem to be designed for such exact measures, understandably, so I would walk off as soon as I had obtained the result required. The power level was satisfactory next day, so I proceeded with the plan.

I appeared in the same spot as before, and immediately stepped to the less exposed position before beginning my leisurely walk to the shop. Ahead I spotted a male figure entering, and speeded up my progress to be there in time. If I was slightly early, I could stand by the picture window as if examining the display, yet be ready to act the moment he reappeared.