TPR died a hero in an attempt to save an 8 year-old Brownie. The poor girl was held in the clutches of a mad woman who was set on proving a point about ancestors in Billingham, Teesside. TPR was crushed under the wheels of several vehicles as he tried to leap from one moving car into another across three lanes of the A1(M).
I witnessed this grisly sight thanks to my advanced time-travelling talents. When I returned to the present and his tiny blue bedsit (a garden shed which he rented from a woman who owned the house and land on which it was sited), I was tempted to tell TPR everything about his future fate. But what would be the point? We couldn’t change the future.
I was more enraged after the tragedy by the tributes to my late husband from ‘friends’ who couldn’t even get my name right. One former colleague publicly passed on his condolences to a supposed-wife called Caroline. I prayed that this was just a mistake. Surely when he said ‘Caroline’ he really meant me?