HAUNTED WIRRAL: Gran's trip into the past

In this latest tale, Jackie and grandson Malcolm take a trip back in time.

The recent series of timeslip stories in my Haunted Wirral column resulted in me being overwhelmed with reports of experiences from readers of the Globe near and far, from Birkenhead and Tranmere to Brisbane and Toronto.

In all of my many years delving into the paranormal, I do not think I have ever received such a global (no pun intended) response from the reading public.

The following timeslip case allegedly occurred in 1980.

In June that year, 13-year-old Malcolm, from Clarendon Road, Wallasey, went to visit his 69-year-old grandmother, Jackie, on nearby Florence Road.

A morose-looking Malcolm told his nan that he had lost his young mongrel dog, Alby when the animal had slipped out of its collar as he walked it along Liscard Road near Central Park.

"If my dad finds out I've lost him he'll give me a belt;" said Malcolm, "he loves Alby."

Jackie had recently retired, and some thought she was a bit outrageous because she had blown half of her retirement money and a huge win on the bingo on a bright orange second-hand Triumph TR7 sports car.

The purchase of the flash car had almost caused Jackie’s husband Alfie to leave her, but the liberated grandmother had a will of iron and Alfie had to accept his wife's choice.

On this infernal June day, Jackie led her docile grandson to the sleek sports car, and after she made sure he'd belted up, she told him to keep his eyes peeled for the dog.

Malcolm enjoyed the long drives in the TR7 with his Nan, but today was feeling down because of the loss of Alby.

He kept scanning the side streets and the road ahead as the car cruised along Liscard Road, and the boy saw heads turn at the sight of the amber-gold wedge-shaped aerodynamic car.

When the vehicle was passing Serpentine Road, Malcolm said: "It was around here where Alby ran off, nan," and suddenly the sports car shuddered as if it had passed over a pothole.

Jackie immediately noticed the disappearance of the Transit van in front of her, as well as the sudden change in the weather.

It had been a bright sunny June afternoon seconds ago, but now it was overcast and darker.

Jackie then noticed the people to her left who were dressed in fashions that seemed to be a bit "antwacky" as she termed them; long overcoats, trilbies, babushka scarves and the like – and stranger still, there was an old-fashioned Ford Anglia overtaking the TR7 – yet it looked brand spanking new.

"Wow, look at that, nan!" Malcolm pointed to some event at Central Park, and Jackie saw multi-tiered stands in the park, crowded with people, and soldiers marching about in the grounds.

A sign in the park proclaimed something about a "Military Tattoo".

"What are the Army doing in the park?" Jackie muttered, and slowly it dawned on her that she and her grandson had somehow gone back in time to what looked like the late 1950s or early 1960s.

The road signs were old-fashioned, and the shops further on down the road were as Jackie remembered them from her younger days.

She saw the shoe shop where she had worked when she was 50 – but it had long closed down – and there was Woolworths – but it looked like the Woollies of the 1960s.

"Nan, why does everything look dead old?"

Malcolm asked.

His grandmother didn't reply; she was gazing into the fascinated eyes of a man in a Morris Oxford Traveller driving alongside a car that would appear very futuristic to him – the orange TR7.

"I don't know, Malcolm;" Jackie eventually replied, "something very strange is going on."

Jackie slowed down at one point and did a three-point turn in the Triumph, and then she drove back the way she had come, and she passed two people she knew to be long dead – two old neighbours – and now Jackie was sure she and Malcolm were in the early 1960s.

Jackie also realised that the man in the Oxford Traveller was following her, his curiosity had obviously gotten the better of him, and behind him there was a police car.

Jackie's mind was a maelstrom of confusion, and she could hear Malcolm's faint voice firing off question after question, but she was too concerned with finding a way back to 1980 to answer the lad.

As the car passed Eaton Avenue, Malcolm cried out: "Nan! It's Alby! Look!" and he pointed down the avenue at the dog.

"We might have to leave him, Malcolm!" Jackie yelled back, but then she decelerated pulled over, and reversed around the corner into Eaton Avenue.

An excited Malcolm jumped out the car as it was still moving and Jackie watched him run pell-mell down the street after Alby.

The dog ran away from her grandson but she heard him scream its name, and the animal froze.

Malcolm scooped up Alby and came running back to the car. Jackie watched the Oxford Traveller park up on Licard Road, and the driver got out and walked towards her.

Malcolm got in the car with a whining Alby, and before the boy could manage to put on his seatbelt, Jackie drove off, missing the inquisitive man by inches.

She swung the car left and picked up some speed on Liscard Road and as the TR7 passed St John's Church, something terrifying took place; a Wolseley police car - with its bumper-mounted bell clanging loudly away – passed through the TR7 from behind like a ghost.

Malcolm yelped with fright and the dog howled, and Jackie felt butterflies in her stomach – and then – everything reverted back to 1980.

Jackie drove Malcolm and his dog home, and no one believed the tale told by grandmother and grandson about their journey into a bygone time.

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