Gigi’s Guardian
Michèle McGrath
Gigi’s Guardian
Day Two, Heaven.
(I can’t believe I’m writing this!)
“Welcome to Heaven, Ariane.” Brenda, the Registrar, smiled at me and held out her hand.
“Thank you. Is it true then, I’m here?” I still felt shocked. I hadn’t believed Nanna when she told me.
Brenda giggled. “You certainly are.”
“Nothing’s the way I imagined.” I gazed round at the small white tables, with their striped sunshades. We were sitting in the middle of a green lawn which stretched away to the far horizon. I could see several magnificent stands of trees, with delicate streams flowing between them.
Brenda giggled again. She was large and blond and bubbly. “Most people expect marble and Greek columns,” she said, “but we think this is much friendlier. Would you like a glass of nectar? This is the ’93 vintage from Paradise River, one of their best.” She handed me a drink that was cold, crisp and tasted of honey.
“Is it like this for everyone?”
“No, this is only the English version. There are loads of others; whatever is most appropriate for the new arrival.”
Brenda was writing my details in her brass-bound book with a green quill pen. The wind blew gently round us, carrying the scent of summer flowers and newly-mown grass. The striped awning flapped above our heads. She asked me questions about myself, my family and my former life. They were easy to answer and I relaxed. I was starting to feel sleepy when her next question jerked me upright.
“What sort of work would you like to do, Ariane?”
“Work? What on Earth are you talking about?”
“We’re not on Earth, remember.” She grinned. “Many of us do some kind of activity here. Having a job is interesting and keeps you in a routine, although not everyone agrees with me. I always ask people their preference right away. Then I can keep it in mind for the future.”
“I see. Well, what choice do I have?” I asked hesitantly.
“Mmm.” She flipped back a couple of pages. “What were you in your previous life?”
“I worked for Lancashire Careers Service.” A funny thought struck me. “I spent my time helping other people find jobs and now I've no idea what I want to do myself.”
She reached over and patted my hand. “Never mind, no need to rush, none at all. Many people are happier if they know their existence isn’t finished and they can still do fascinating things. But you don’t need to decide anything immediately, if you don’t want to. I just wanted to find out if you had a burning ambition, but you could take several decades to choose. Some do, while others get started straight away. Einstein, for example, took five years before he decided to haunt a French Restaurant in San Francisco. He says it amuses him when he drops something into the soup and people jump. Everyone takes a while to get used to things here, but you’ll soon settle down.”
“Tell me about the types of jobs please.” I smiled inwardly, as I realised I had just reverted to type, asking for more information.
“You can choose from several departments. ‘Contemplation, Adoration and Philosophy’, called C.A.P for short, appeals to most of the deep thinkers. We’ve got Sartre and Voltaire and Thomas Paine arguing in the forum at the moment. They were quite astonished, when they arrived, to find themselves here. Don’t think any of them expected an after-life at all. Now they have endless debates with Thomas Aquinas and Confucius amongst others. Fascinating – they all chatter away in their own languages yet everybody understands exactly what they are saying! You should go to the Visitors’ Gallery and listen.”
“C.A.P. sounds extremely noisy to me and not like a job at all.”
“It is, but I enjoy listening, once in a while. You could call it either a job or an activity, I suppose, not that it matters. The people in there seem to stay for a long time. However, we’re getting sidetracked. Don’t choose C.A.P. unless you like endless arguments.”
“I don’t!” I almost shouted.
“You sound emphatic.”
“I am.”
“Didn’t think debating would suit you. You look a hands-on, practical sort of person to me, rather than an abstract thinker.”
“How did you guess? We’ve only just met.”
“I’ve had plenty of practice sizing people up and I had a good teacher: Sherlock Holmes.”
“I thought he was fictional?”
“That’s the story Conan Doyle made up. Poor Sherlock existed all right. He had to change his name afterwards, to avoid the embarrassment. He never forgave Conan Doyle, until he got here. When they decided to bury the hatchet, we had quite a party. Pity you missed the fun, but you can go back and enjoy an instant replay if you want to. We often hold reruns of special events. I’ve been several times and I always cry at the end.” Brenda wiped away a tear.
“Tell me about my other options,” I said to distract her.
“Well, there’s R. & G., for ‘Registry and Greeting’. They help the new people when they come to us. Your grandmother’s one of those, as you know.”
I smiled. “Yes, she told me yesterday.” Everything had been incredibly strange. One minute I had been on the operating table and then everything changed. There was all this rainbow light and Nanna was hugging me tight. Rory was jumping up beside her, barking and wagging his tail. “Nanna said she likes to meet the newcomers, even if they are a bit upset at the time.”
“She’s one of our best Greeters. I don’t know how she does the job. Personally, I prefer to deal with people who are over the first shock, that’s why I’m in the Registry section. Not everyone likes it, because of all the paperwork, but you never know who you’ll meet next. Yesterday, for example, I spoke to a judge, a Native American Medicine Man, a Russian gangster, several Turkish teachers who’d been caught in an earthquake and a saxophonist. He was rather handsome.” Brenda gave another of her infectious chuckles, making her blond curls bob.
She took a large swig from her glass and poured us both a refill from the sparkling crystal jug. “This stuff’s wonderful. You can drink as much as you like and never get a headache. On Earth I was almost teetotal; I absolutely hated hangovers.” She laughed and then, as if she suddenly remembered what we were supposed to be doing, she became serious again. “Guardians take care of the living, when they are about to make special decisions in their lives or are in danger.”
“As in Guardian Angels?”
“‘Guardian Angel’ is the old fashioned name for them, but we don’t use the phrase any more, since it’s misleading. Most Guardians aren’t angels at all. Some of them are right old reprobates. You wonder, in fact, how they ever got here. Proper angels quite enjoy the job, as a change from their usual messenger duties, but anyone can do it. It's a bit lonely, depending on who you get assigned to.”
“I imagine that would make a difference.”
“A lot of Guardians complain because their clients don’t listen to them. Many people don’t hear us, even if we are shouting right in their ear. Children respond best, but they are the hardest to work with. They keep getting into dangerous mischief, so you need to be on your toes all the time.”
“What happened to my guardian angel yesterday? Sleeping on the job?”
“Of course not. You made the decision to go ahead with the minor operation quite freely, didn’t you?”
“I never thought I'd die though!” There was so much I had wanted to do. My wedding dress was hanging in my wardrobe and I would never it wear now. I’d wanted children - Michael’s children. Michael, oh God, Michael!
“Why did I have to die
?” I shouted at Brenda. “I wanted to live!”
“Most people do. I’m really sorry, but I don’t know why, only that now was your time to come here. Perhaps you have some special task to perform, something you can’t do in the real world.”
I snorted. “A likely story!”
“You will find out someday and you had quite a pleasant journey, didn’t you?” she asked timidly. “Your Guardian was holding your hand, until your grandmother had you safe.”
“What’s his name? I’ve got one or two things to say to the dozy blighter.”
“Her name is Sasha, but she’s not here at the moment.”
“Avoiding me?”
“No, she’s having a well earned rest. Looking after you wasn’t all joy you know.”
I couldn’t help smiling then, despite my anger. My mother often used to say those identical words to me.
Brenda picked up on my emotional change immediately. “I know it’s not fair and I am truly sorry, but there’s nothing anyone can do. You will feel better, eventually. Everyone does in time. Please believe me.”
“I suppose you’re right,” I growled, making a mental note to talk severely to my former guardian, if I ever got the chance.
“Shall we continue, then?”
I nodded.
“The H.P. section is fun. Stands for ‘Haunts and Poltergeists’. Tends to appeal to those who complain about their previous lives. Others just enjoy making mischief. Many people have a warped sense of humour they couldn't express before.”
“Like Einstein, you mean?”
“He’s a good example, but he also enjoys the company and he says the cooking’s excellent at 'C’est la Vie'. The name amuses him as well, so that’s a bonus.”
“I thought spirits like us don’t eat or drink.”
“Heavens, no!” Brenda looked positively shocked. “We don’t need food or water to exist, of course, either here or when we go back to Earth. But we still enjoy all the things we used to. Can you imagine Paradise with no chocolate or good wine? I can’t. Cheers.” She drained her glass. “You do like chocolate, don’t you?”
“Of course I do.”
Brenda waved a negligent hand and a huge box of chocolates appeared on the table, tied up with stripy pink ribbons. Brenda opened the lid.
“They’re my favourites,” I cried.
“Of course.” She sounded complacent, as if this feat was nothing special. “Where was I?”
“Haunts.”
“Oh yes, then we have ‘Familiars’. They work with Mediums.”
“I don't believe in fortune-telling, personally.”
“My dear, you missed one of life’s great treats!”
“If I had believed, I wouldn't have gone to see one of them. I never wanted to find out what was going to happen to me. At least I wasn't frightened about dying an early death!”
“That’s a good point, but the people who go to mediums don’t agree with you. They want to know if they’ll ever find the man of their dreams or whether they’ll be rich. Those sort of things.”
“Do you mean mediums really tell them what's going to happen? I thought they only made wild guesses and were lucky occasionally.” I wondered about my operation. If I’d gone to a medium, perhaps I could have avoided it and stayed with Michael.
“Oh, no. Familiars are aware of the truth, but sometimes it’s wiser for them not to give all the details to the Medium, so the client can’t be told.”
“Why not?”
“Depends.”
“On what?” I was feeling annoyed again.
“Their rules are strict. Only those who train as familiars know precisely how much they are allowed to reveal. The training's difficult and not everybody passes the final examinations. They do a lot of research into ethics. For example, they can't tell people next week’s Lottery numbers or the winner of the Grand National. Not done at all.”
“Isn't that trivial, compared to life and death issues?”
“Not always and not for everybody. I never took the training, so I’m not the one to answer those sorts of questions. I can send you to one of the trainers, if you want?”
She cocked a quizzical eyebrow at me but I shook my head. “No thanks. Go on, please.”
“A Familiar's life isn’t easy,” she continued. “They need to bring the spirits belonging to a particular client to the séance at the right moment. Some don’t want to come. I remember one man, who got hauled away to speak to his granddaughter. He was winning at poker and he wasn’t happy. The Familiar’s ears were burning with all the names he called her. Would you like the job, do you think?”
“I’m not sure. What are the other choices?”
“A whole department deals with ‘Reincarnation’, helping those of us who want to be born again.”
“Do a lot of people go back?”
“Some do, but most of us want to stay put. We’re astonished to be here at all or even that this place exists, especially the scientists among us.”
“I certainly am.” We both laughed.
“I can’t imagine wanting to start all over again, but Reincarnation is too deep a subject for me. Ask one of the Gurus if you want to find out more. There are several resting here at the moment. Personally, if I get bored, I just change my type of work and try something else,” Brenda told me.
“You must have had some unusual jobs,” I prompted her.
“The funniest job I ever had was Guardian to a rock star. The antics he got up to would make your hair curl.” Brenda patted her own tight curls. “That position didn’t last long, though. He’s our Musical Director now. He jazzes up the hymns and lately he’s taken to writing arias, bit of a change from Heavy Metal. Looking after him was great fun while it lasted.”
“Everything sounds so incredible - far too much for me to take in at the moment.” My head was beginning to throb. Not a headache exactly - more the feeling that I ought to have a headache.
“I’m not surprised. Why not think things over for now? Take the information home and read about the options. There are loads more we haven’t discussed. Remember, you can always change your occupation if you don’t like it. No jobs for life here – especially not for eternal life!” Brenda passed me a large sack bulging with books, shook my hand briskly and walked away.
*
“I’m home,” I called, dropping the sack with a loud thud.
Nanna had told me to come back here, after I had seen the Registrar. “You can decide where you really want to live when you're more settled,” she said as she kissed me goodbye. “You’ve enough to adjust to at the moment.”
Everything was the same as I remembered from my childhood. I walked through the door with an intense feeling of relief. Amidst so much that was new, I was deeply grateful to find surroundings I recognised.
“Hi, Nanna.” I went over and kissed her.
“Are you frazzled? You were a long time, but I thought you would be, knowing Brenda.”
“She’s quite something, isn’t she?”
Nanna laughed and led me out into the garden to a table and chairs set beside a rippling stream.
“This is new. You only had a lily pond in Leyland,” I exclaimed.
“I always wanted running water, though.”
Tea and some of Nanna’s coconut biscuits appeared as if by magic. I settled back into the cushions, enjoying the familiar comforts.
“Hello!” A tall man was walking across the lawn towards us. The late evening sun made a halo of his long fair hair. I didn’t recognise him at first; he had changed so much. Of course, I never saw him as a younger man or Nanna either for that matter. She’d told me earlier that she’d chosen to be thirty again, the age when she was happiest in her life. Nanna jumped up and went over to him. He kissed her.
“Look who’s here,” she said, turning to me.
“Granddad!” I flew into his arms and gave him the biggest hug. I had missed him for so long. “Oh! You look wonderful!” I remembered how frail he had been t
he last time we'd been together.
“I’m fit again and you're all grown up!”
“It’s been years since you saw me.”
“Far too long. I take a peek at everyone from time to time, but I'm glad you’re here with us now.”
“You two have a chat while I get dinner ready,” Nanna said and hurried off to the kitchen.
“Where were you when I arrived?” I tucked my hand through his arm, as we made our way into the dining room.
“Fishing. At least my client was and I couldn’t leave him. We were right in the middle of a storm. My job was to make sure he didn’t get drowned. He’s one of the key negotiators in a Disarmament Treaty in the real world. If he went over the side, years of work would be lost.”
“Exciting?”
“Terrifying, actually, or would have been if I'd been alive. I hung on by my fingertips to the rigging, while I threw a net over him and lashed him down. He kept rolling all over the place and I had to make everything seem as if he got tangled up by accident. Fortunately I can’t get seasick any more. If I could, I’d never have volunteered to take care of a man with such an awful hobby.”
“Yes, you were never the best of sailors.” I laughed, remembering several memorable trips across the Irish Sea.
A wonderful scent filled the air and Nanna came in pushing a large trolley.
“Oh, Nanna!” My mouth started to water.
“I’ve made all your favourites, now you are in a fit state to enjoy them. You were completely zonked last night.”
“Give the girl a chance; she’d only just got here,” Granddad scolded her. Nanna heaped my plate high with her famous steak pie and roast potatoes.
“I can’t eat all that!”
“Yes you can. No one diets in Heaven, you know.”
She was right; I even managed two portions of her special chocolate mousse. Afterwards I helped her to clear the table, as I used to do at home. When we got into the kitchen, though, all she did was wave her hand.
“No need to wash up. We only do the chores we want to do here. I cook because I love cooking. The tedious stuff, like washing up and cleaning happens automatically. I just imagine shiny new plates and sparkling surfaces and they appear.”
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