by Annie Dalton
Can you believe Miss Dove wasn’t even looking? Her excellent teacher’s radar had instantly alerted her that her lively little pupils were misbehaving. “I’m going to count to five and I want to see you both sitting nicely at the table,” she said firmly. “One, two—”
Two embarrassed little girls reappeared, very red in the face. I was secretly grateful to Bluebell and Lulu for providing a distraction. I’d had the most disturbing thought. Suppose the Universe didn’t want me to be a trouble-shooter, constantly putting myself in danger? Suppose it would actually prefer me to be a nursery teacher?
I’d been really upset when Fern suggested I might not be cut out to work in the field. Now suddenly, I felt a rush of pure longing. Life would be blissfully simple if I took Miss Dove’s advice; simple, but still really fulfilling. I’d spend my days surrounded by innocent paintings of smiley suns and lollipop trees, teaching the mysteries of the Universe through sand and water play. I’d never even have to leave Heaven, if I didn’t want to.
After lunch, we took the class outside into the garden. I handed out tubs of bubble mixture while Miss Dove explained in terms her pupils could understand, that everything in the Universe was pure energy.
“Energy loves to play just like you,” she told them in her careful nursery teacher voice. “It likes to dress up and play at being stars and trees and birds.”
“And bears,” said Maudie solemnly. “It likes to dress up as bears, doesn’t it?” She was still wearing her fluffy bear suit from this morning.
“That’s right, Maudie! Clever girl!” said Miss Dove. “Now I want you all to take the lids off your bubbles very carefully. See if you can do it with no spilling. That’s wonderful! Well done everyone. Let’s see if you can blow some really beautiful bubbles.”
In seconds, the air was crowded with gorgeous rainbow bubbles. All the preschoolers were squealing, jumping up and down, trying to capture them. Then Lulu let out a little anguished cry.
“Now what just happened to your beautiful bubble, Lulu?” Miss Dove asked as if she didn’t know.
“It poptid,” she explained sadly. “It poptid right in my eye.”
Maudie’s beautiful bubble was next to pop. “Where did it go?” she wept. “That’s what I don’t know.”
“Don’t cry, Maudie.” Obi tenderly patted his little classmate’s back.
I adore Obi. He has no hair and almost no eyebrows and he looks exactly like a three-year-old buddha!
“They didn’t go away, they only changed,” he explained to the tearful little girls. “They changed back to not being bubbles.”
Maudie’s face immediately lit up. “I know! They’ve been bubbles and now they just want to play something else!”
I’m always telling Lola the things these babies say and she’s like, “I can’t believe four year olds can be so wise!”
OK, so Miss Dove’s job wasn’t what you’d call glamorous. She wasn’t taking scary risks on the cosmic front line, like actual agents. But how I looked at it, she was actually teaching the celestial agents of the future - which to my mind was equally, if not MORE, important.
I suddenly realised that I was genuinely considering Miss Dove’s suggestion.
Why not? I asked myself defensively. It’s not like I’d be letting anyone down. I’d still be working for the Light Agencies. I’d be doing it from home, that’s all.
After school had finished, I walked back to my dorm. I’d just stopped in the hall to check my post, when Fern burst through the door.
“There you are,” she said with relief. “I’ve been looking for you all afternoon. Melanie, I’m having SUCH a stressful day, and I was hoping you’d help me out?”
Fern did look unusually harassed. Her perfect French pleat had actually sprung several untidy little wisps.
“I’ve spent the last month trying to organise a soul-retrieval weekend,” she explained. “Now two trainees have dropped out right at the last minute. Do you think you’d be interested at all?”
“Probably not,” I said cautiously. I had NO idea what soul-retrieval was, but I wasn’t letting Fern know that.
“Are you sure?” she asked in a pleading voice. “It’s going to be a fascinating course. Rose Hall is so beautiful. And Michael has actually persuaded Jessica Lightpath to run the sessions, and as you know, Jessica hardly ever teaches trainees these days.” Fern beamed at me hopefully.
I’d never heard of Jessica Lightpath, but I just knew she wore woolly sweaters with rainbows on, plus she probably meditated with crystals big time.
“I’d really love to help you out,” I said, crossing my fingers behind my back, “but my friend’s been away and he’s coming back tonight.”
Fern consulted her clipboard. “Would that be Reuben Bird?”
I gawped at her. “That’s amazing! How did you know?”
“Because one of my colleagues has just left to drive him to Rose Hall.”
“Reuben’s going on this course!”
“Oh, yes,” said Fern. “Didn’t he tell you?”
I mentally replayed Reuben’s angelgram. Hang on in there, Beeby! I’ll see you tonight and I almost laughed. That angel boy is something else! How could he know I was going to be on a soul-retrieval course, when I hadn’t even heard of soul-retrieval until two minutes ago!!
“So will you come?” Fern persisted.
Ever get those days when you can literally feel the Universe ganging up on you from every side? Take my advice. Just give in, you’ll save yourself no end of hassle!
I gave a resigned sigh. “OK. Count me in.” Soul-retrieval, whatever it was, had to be more fun than hanging around the dorm by myself.
Fern allowed herself a cool little smile. “I’m sure you won’t regret it.” She sneaked a peek at her watch. “Mel, I hate to pressure you, but you might want to run and pack. The bus is leaving in an hour.”
Our teachers are constantly telling us we have to go with the flow. But I reckon even an archangel would be left dizzy by a day that included a cosmic panic attack, an unscheduled angelgram AND a complete change of career direction, then wound up in a crowded minibus, swooping around bends so sharp, that if you saw them drawn on a map they’d look exactly like someone’s intestines.
The atmosphere in the bus was not particularly friendly, I have to say. My fellow students on the course turned out to be from some celestial college I’d never heard of. Everyone at my school dresses in casuals. But these kids were like, pure boho. One girl was wearing an old-fashioned silk petticoat down to her ankles, little beaded slippers and a fringy silk shawl. Even the boys were dressed up in vintage gear. One wore what looked like a World War Two flying jacket. Another extremely good-looking angel boy had draped himself in one of those v. dramatic long coats I associate with vampires on TV. His name was something like “Indigo”.
I love that arty boho look, don’t get me wrong. It was the kids who got right up my nose. They ignored me for ages, showing off tediously amongst themselves about some play they were involved in.
At last the vampire-coat boy deigned to notice me. “I don’t think I saw you on Soul-Retrieval for Beginners, did I?” He had one of those plumy voices like he rather fancied himself as an actor.
I attempted a smile. “Actually this is the first one I’ve been to.”
“Residential are usually for intermediate students,” he said in a disapproving tone.
Thanks for nothing, Fern.
“They really just asked me to make up the numbers,” I explained.
“Well, so long as you can keep up,” he said in a doubtful voice.
“We’re SO lucky to get Jessica,” gushed a girl wearing what looked like a milkmaid’s smock. “What she doesn’t know about DS and SR just isn’t worth knowing.”
The boy in the flying jacket threw me a pitying look. “DS is—”
“I DO know about Dark Studies, thanks,” I said quickly.
They all exchanged glances, like, “Woo, has she got a chip!”
&n
bsp; I slid down in my seat. This was going to be a really long weekend.
The bus turned off the main road and went bumping down a track. After a few minutes of jolting along in the ruts, periodically banging our heads on the roof, we came to a rambling country house.
Fern had told me that Rose Hall is used purely for soul-retrieval courses. Maybe that explains its truly amazing atmosphere. It feels like, aeons and aeons ago, someone struck a heavenly tuning fork and that same pure, lovely vibe is still chiming on and on.
We all went to freshen up after the journey (we didn’t have to share rooms, thank goodness), then came back down to dinner. I got a bit lost actually. That house is a total maze.
A delicious buffet had been left out for us. There must have been staff behind the scenes, preparing our food and keeping everything pristine, but we never saw them. It felt a bit like being looked after by friendly, but very shy, elves!
We were still eating when Reuben rolled up, lugging his ancient rucksack. A few days of living in the open had turned his skin to a warm gold, the colour of cinnamon toast. I was so relieved to see him I just threw my arms around him.
He solemnly presented me with an enormous tropical flower. “It’s a bit stinky,” he said apologetically. “You don’t notice it in the rain forest.”
It was extremely stinky, but the gesture touched me more than I could say.
“Thanks, Sweetpea.”
“Did you get my message?” he asked in a low voice.
I was still gazing at the flower. It was beautiful just so long as you didn’t inhale.
“Yeah, v. impressive transmitting skills,” I whispered. “But how did you know?”
“I was sitting in a tree, watching the sun come up over a water hole, and I just got the feeling you were having a rough time,” he explained.
“Only my most humiliating moment ever,” I told him, careful to keep my voice down. “I lost it totally.”
Indigo seemed to be miffed at not being the centre of attention. He read out the message on Reub’s T-shirt in his actor’s voice. “We all know love is the answer,” he said with an annoying smirk. “But what, exactly, is the question?”
Reuben gave him the mischievous smile that lets you see what he must have been like as a little angel kid. “Doesn’t matter, mate. The answer’s always the same.”
“You might want to grab some of this food before it disappears,” I suggested hastily.
The instant Reuben went off to fill his plate, the girls decided to introduce themselves! My buddy had obviously made a bit of an impression. They all wanted to know if “Sweetpea” was his real name!
I explained that Lola originally called him Sweetpea as a private joke and now it had stuck. “Lola’s always making up mad names for her mates. I’m ‘Boo’, I don’t know why,” I giggled.
Tanya (that was the petticoat girl) was totally starry-eyed. “It REALLY suits him,” she sighed. “The way he gave you that flower; I’ve never seen anything so romantic.”
I almost laughed. Romantic? Reuben? But I’m really proud of Reubs, so I boasted, “He uses Sweetpea as his DJ name now.”
“He does deejaying,” gasped Tanya. “I bet he’s good, isn’t he?”
“Unbelievable,” I said truthfully. “He does gigs on the beach most weekends. You should come and check him out.”
She gave me a sideways look. “So are you and he…?”
This time I laughed outright. “No WAY! Reubs is just a mate.”
My buddy strolled back, munching happily, “Has Jess arrived yet?”
Everyone’s mouths fell open.
“You actually know Jessica Lightfoot?” breathed the milkmaid girl.
“We used to train at the same dojo.” He chuckled. “She might be old, but man, can she fight!”
It was like someone had flipped a switch. In a heartbeat Reuben and I were upgraded from course outsiders to its stars!
Next morning, I dragged on some jeans, threw on a T-shirt that said SOCIAL BUTTERFLY (mostly to annoy Indigo!), and went down to join the others.
Can you believe Indigo even wore his coat at breakfast!
“Do you think he sleeps in it?” I whispered to Reubs.
“Yeah, in a lead-lined coffin!” he whispered back.
Indigo was being v. charming this morning, giving me a special smile every time he passed me the marmalade, inquiring what I did at weekends and if I’d been to FEATHERS, a new club that had recently opened up.
Reuben whispered, “He fancies you.”
I went pink. “Don’t be stupid.”
“Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed!” he teased.
We quickly disposed of the continental breakfast laid on by the Rose Hall elves, then made our way to the lecture theatre.
Like everything else at Rose Hall it was simple and old-fashioned, with polished oak panelling and rows of plain wooden benches. The benches had also been polished to a high shine, and I immediately slid straight off! At that moment Jessica Lightpath walked into the lecture theatre.
Have you ever met anyone who literally makes the air shimmer?
Jessica’s hair must originally have been jet black; now it was streaked with pure white, and twisted into a smooth knot on the back of her neck. She wore a dazzling white shirt, blue jeans and pristine white trainers; also masses of turquoise jewellery, making me wonder if she’d been Native American in a past life.
Reuben reckons Jessica has “long-distance eyes”. And I know what he means. They’re pure and clear, like they’re seeing people and places no one else has ever seen.
Jessica started by explaining that souls usually “lose” themselves after death, for one of two reasons. “The human may have experienced terrible trauma - war, natural disaster, a plane crash - and be temporarily confused. Just occasionally souls get lost for their own evolutionary purposes.”
I felt v. sophisticated, sitting in a grown-up lecture theatre, furiously scribbling down phrases like “evolutionary purposes”!
There was something magic about that weekend. This is just one example; the third or fourth time Jessica mentioned human souls, a tiny blue butterfly flew in through the open window! I know!
I continued jotting down the Ten Key Points of Soul-Retrieval (or however many there were), but I could still feel the butterfly fluttering around the room, almost like I was tracking it with my nerve endings.
Suddenly I felt a touch, light as a flower petal, as the butterfly settled on my wrist, and perched there, gently fanning its wings looking totally at home.
Jessica could see I was a bit surprised. “Butterflies are strongly attracted to soul work,” she explained.
Indigo flashed me his intense smile. “This one seems quite attracted to Melanie!”
“You old smoothie,” Reubs muttered.
Jessica quickly got everyone back on track. “How many of you go dancing?” she asked.
People nervously put up their hands, wondering what the sassafras this had to do with soul-retrieval.
She laughed. “Ah, but how many of you really love to dance? All of you? Wonderful! So you all understand that you can only dance well, when you let yourself feel the music?”
“Yeah, of course,” everyone agreed. We angels tend to be a dancey lot!
“Well, soul-retrieval is a lot like dancing,” Jessica explained. “Everything in the Universe has its own note, its own song. We must attune ourselves to the music of this lost soul until we literally feel it inside our own hearts. Then, no matter where the soul goes, we will follow. We won’t have to think. It will come quite naturally.” She suddenly swooped on Reuben, literally pulling him out of his seat. “You are the soul,” she announced. “You try to surprise me and I’ll do my best to follow.”
The rest of us went weak with relief that she hadn’t picked on us.
But that kind of thing doesn’t bother Reubs. He and Jessica immediately began to improvise a surprisingly sexy little tango. Reuben was easily able to catch Jessica out at first,
but as the dance went on, she began anticipating his moves so accurately it was uncanny. Suddenly it didn’t seem like two people dancing, there was just this one thing - this beautiful breathtaking dance.
“Thank you, take a bow!” Jessica told him.
Reuben came back to his seat, grinning. Everyone clapped and cheered.
“A good dancer must be sensitive both to the music and to his or her partner!” smiled Jessica. “It’s the same with soul-retrieval. In this beautiful and frequently dangerous cosmic dance, the soul leads and we follow. If the soul strays into a Limbo dimension, we follow. If the soul is badly confused and accidentally wanders into the Hell dimensions…” Jessica cupped her ear expectantly.
“We follow!” we all chorused.
“Is she serious?” one girl whispered. “We’d have to follow it into the Hell dimensions? Don’t they have specialists for that?”
Jessica seemed to be controlling her temper. “Yes they do! That’s why the Agency runs these courses, to train you all to do this difficult and demanding work.”
“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” the girl said humbly.
“You are new to soul-retrieval, my dear, so I will make allowances. This subject can be quite alarming at first.”
If you ask me, Jessica is quite alarming herself, I told my new best friend, the butterfly; but I wasn’t silly enough to say this aloud.
“For convenience agents use the term ‘lost soul’,” Jessica went on. “In reality, human souls never cease to be under Agency protection. But even though we know the happiness that awaits this confused soul in the Afterlife, we cannot force it to come with us. And so we play a patient waiting game. We wait, we watch, we follow, and we never cease to surround this soul with uplifting vibrations!”
“Sounds really boring,” the flying-jacket boy muttered to his mates.
“Let me remind you that we’re talking about saving an immortal soul. Our feelings really don’t come into it.” Jessica shot him a sharp look. “You do understand that being permitted to do this work is an honour?”
