Acme Time Travel Incorporated - Volume 1

Gabriel heard his laptop ping. An MS-Outlook reminder had popped up, saying

Tues. 11th July 2:30 pm Sunny Vale Care Home – interview with John Cullen

The detail section of the reminder said

John is one of Frinton’s oldest residents. He was 100 years old on the 8th July.

If the guy is not senile, try and get a heart-warming piece about the joys of looking back on a full and interesting life (from the cosy perspective of a lovely cliff top Frinton care home).

Oh, and Gabriel, try to be nice to the care home manager (Denise). She takes out regular adverts with us.

PS I have arranged with the care home, they are expecting you.

Gabriel got up from his desk, picking up his rucksack as he went.

He looked over at Barney. He was sitting at his desk going through a list of current and potential advertisers, engaged in a perpetual struggle to get some sort of revenue from a newspaper that was given away free of charge.

“Catch you later, Barney ... the rest home is calling.”

Barney looked up, smirking slightly. “Remember to be nice to Denise if you see her ... but not too nice,” Barney said, chuckling to himself.

Barney watched the lad go out the door. He was quietly pleased with Gabriel. The lad had turned up for his interview looking tidy (not smart, but good enough).

And he had been on time.

Barney had been prepared to put on his gruff exterior (the one he used for his mate, Reg), and watch the kid run a mile. His experience with Reg’s last two offerings had prepared him for the worst. But the kid was on time ... and he could read ... and he could write, for fuck sake. Those were three things right there that put him head and shoulders above the previous guys sent along by Reg.

Also, he seemed keen to learn about the business.

Gabriel was obviously bright enough to see that this was a two-bit operation, but also bright enough to see that Barney had been in the news business for a long time.

The kid even seemed to think that maybe Barney knew a thing or two ... which was always nice.

The lad had obviously had a bit of a tough time growing up. He didn’t give much away, but sometimes ... just little stories he mentioned ... little snippets from his childhood. They made Barney cringe. Cringe at the grim backgrounds some kids had. He didn’t know if Gabriel had a police record. He hadn’t asked him. He hadn’t asked Reg either, and Reg hadn’t proffered the information.

Barney thought it best if he gave the kid the benefit of the doubt.

When Gabriel had been working for him for a week, Barney decided to get him a bicycle to use. There was no point in training up a reporter if they didn’t have some sort of transport. The bike he got him wasn’t new, in fact it had been in Barney’s shed for ages. Barney acknowledged to himself that he was not only giving Gabriel a means of transport, he was also giving Gabriel a sort of test. A test to see if Gabriel could responsibly look after a piece of property given him on loan. But the lad had cleaned it up. Took it apart. Took it apart in his own time. And he had given it a good fettling. And now it looked fine.

And that meant that Barney could pass on a bit of real work on to Gabriel.

And it meant that Gabriel had unknowingly passed Barney’s test.

The lad had shadowed Barney on one or two little pieces of ‘investigative journalism’ (which they had both laughed about), and the lad had done the write-ups from Barney’s notes. Now though, there was an opportunity to really write up something a bit more interesting.

One of Barney’s contacts, Denise, who worked as the manageress at a local care home, had told him that one of their residents would shortly be 100 years old. The old guy had lived in Walton-on-the-Naze all that time, and Barney had thought that this might be a nice chance to do a retrospective about the area, as seen through the eyes of the old gent. At one time (maybe only a few weeks ago), Barney would have gone and done that piece personally, but now he thought it might be good to give the chance to Gabriel. Something for the lad to get his teeth into.

And it was real journalism too ... not just who won at the local dog show.