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MODERN LOVE

PART ONE

January 19, 2008 – 11:37am

“Get back!” shouted the angry thug. “I’ll do it! I swear I’ll blow her head right off!”

The woman that the thug was holding wasn’t too happy about this. In fact, that exact phrase was ranked top of her list of ‘Things I Wouldn’t Want To Hear If A Nutter Was Holding A Gun To My Head’. She wasn’t having the best of days.

“It’s okay!” said a man, stepping forward from the crowd of onlookers. “No, I don’t mean it’s okay to blow her head off… that’s not okay. In fact it’s really really not okay. What I mean is, your situation… that’s okay. I’m a police officer…”

“Stay back, pig scum!” the angry hostage-taker shouted.

“My name is DI Tim Sayler… I’m sure we can work something out.”

“Oh, alright then” the thug reluctantly agreed, releasing the hostage. He was led away by uniformed police officers, and Tim was pleased with another job well done.

Just then, a piano fell on him.

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January 19, 2008 – 11:46am

“Sayler! Sayler! Wake up!”

Tim opened his eyes, and saw a man’s face looking down at him.

“Oh, good, you’re not dead.” said the man. “Get up then, we’re off to Frances Street. Some nutter’s planning to jump off a roof. Two nutters in one day. Must be a full moon or something.”

“Wha?” asked Tim.

“Oh come on, get up you ponce!” the man instructed, dragging Tim to his feet and over to an unmarked police car, a red Audi RS4.

Moments later the two of them were tearing through the streets towards Frances Street. Tim gazed out of the car window. Everything looked so familiar, and yet, somehow so different. He checked his watch, and gasped.

“I’ve lost nearly ten minutes!” Tim exclaimed.
“What are you talking about?” asked the man who was driving.
“I… This isn’t my time! I’m not supposed to be here!” Tim tried to explain.
“That piano hit you harder than I thought, mate.” the driver responded.
“I need to get back! I need to get back to my proper time! I need to go home!” insisted Tim.
“You can go home in a minute you soft sod. First we need to get this headcase down off this roof, before we’re wiping him up off the pavement!”

The car screeched to a halt behind another crowd of onlookers. The driver got out of the car, and Tim decided to follow. A woman marched up to the pair of them.

“What’s happening Jeanie?” the man asked her.
“He’s going to jump Gov!” the woman named Jeanie exclaimed.
“I can bloody well SEE that!” the man told her. “Do we know why?”
“No, Gov,” she said. “He just seems a bit of a nutter.”
“Right then PC Hunt. Get this mob of bloodthirsty onlookers under control. DI Sayler and myself shall go and talk to the loon.”

The man moved through to the area in front of the crowd, and Tim once again decided to follow.

“OY!” the man shouted. “MY NAME IS DCI ANDY CARTWRIGHT. YOU CAN BLOODY WELL GET DOWN FROM THERE OR SO HELP ME I WILL COME UP AND PUSH YOU OFF MYSELF. UNDERSTAND?”

“I don’t think that’s likely to help,” volunteered Tim.
“No?” asked Andy. “Well, I’d like to leave it to my trusted negotiations specialist, but sadly he seems to have gone doolally. A piano fell on him, you see.”

Tim had a sudden realisation.

“Let me talk to him, er, Gov!” requested Tim. “I think this is why I’m here!”
“No shit?” said Andy.
“No, really!” enthused Tim. “I’m here to get this guy down from the roof! I think that… maybe, if I can help him, then I can go home!”
“You and me both,” said Andy. “Get him down then! And get a move on, I’m going to miss the footy!”

Tim moved forward towards the building.

“Hello?” he shouted up to the man on the roof.
“I’ll jump!” shouted the man.
“My name is DI Tim Sayler,” shouted Tim. “I’d like to know why you’re so keen on jumping?”
“Why should you care?” shouted the jumper.
“I do care,” answered Tim. “Please, tell me what the problem is!”

The man on the roof paused.

“It’s my wife!” he eventually responded. “I can’t live without her! She’s dead!”
“No I’m not!” shouted a woman in the crowd.
“Jean! Get that woman over here!” ordered DCI Cartwright.
“What?” shouted the man on the roof.

“I’m not dead!” shouted the woman who was now no longer part of the crowd.
“Maureen?” shouted the man.
“Yes Ted, it’s me,” shouted the woman. “What’s all this about me being dead? Get down from there this instant, before you do yourself a mischief!”
“Oh.” said Ted the jumper. “I guess it was just a nightmare I had. My mistake. Sorry.”

Ted disappeared from view, and soon reappeared from the front doors of the building, safe at ground level. Tim witnessed the touching reunion between Ted and his wife.

“What a pain in the arse!” commented DCI Cartwright, coming to stand alongside Tim.

Tim looked around.

“I did it! He’s down, safe! Why am I still here?” he asked, exasperated.

“My sentiments exactly,” said Andy. “Right then, you coming to watch the footy?”

“I want to go HOME!” stressed Tim. “Why can’t I go home?!”

“Fine, go home, get some rest, you unsociable git,” Andy told him. “I’ll let you off seeing as how a piano fell on you. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Cartwright and PC Hunt got into the audi and drove away. The crowd of onlookers had already mostly dispersed, and Ted and Maureen had long since gone back inside. Tim stood alone in the middle of Frances Street, then turned and began to walk in the direction he knew his apartment ought to be.