I had a feeling Joy knew exactly what she’d been saying – was still saying – but Mum was different.
‘And whilst I had hoped,’ she said, choosing her words cautiously, ‘that Martin would one day be my son-in-law, it goes without saying that you are your own person, darling, and I wouldn’t want you to have married him out of any sense of duty. You’re young. You have your whole life ahead of you—’
She paused to blow her nose as we both realised the enormity of those last words. I did indeed have my whole life ahead of me, but someone else no longer did, and his entire family had been plunged into darkness because of it.
‘—but what has happened has happened, and can’t be changed,’ she said, hastily ploughing on. ‘However, what can be changed is the unkind words I said earlier. I love you, Hattie, and I want what’s best for you. And whether my daughter chooses to be single or otherwise, is entirely her business and for nobody else – least of all me – to say or judge.’ Her hand reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. ‘Do you accept my apology, sweetheart?’
I sat up and flew into her arms, nearly knocking her off the bed.
‘Of course I do,’ I said, snuffling into her neck. ‘I didn’t mean for that to happen to him, Mum.’
‘I know you didn’t. I know, I know,’ she nodded her head frantically. ‘It was an accident. A dreadful, dreadful accident.’
‘Joy has banned me from the funeral,’ I gasped.
‘She’s crazy with grief right now. She doesn’t mean it.’
‘Oh but she does, Mum.’
‘We’ll talk to her. Of course you must go to the funeral. It’s unthinkable for you not be there. Let things settle for now, love.’
Actually, Mum had misunderstood my shock at Joy’s nastiness as upset that I’d been banned. In fact, I didn’t want to be there at his graveside. Not after… my mind automatically moved away from what it had been about to voice. A coping mechanism.
Instead I said, ‘It’s fine. Don’t push it, Mum. She and I were never exactly close anyway. I know you liked to natter to each other from time to time, but I found her hard work. I was never good enough for her precious son, and she never failed to let me know that, with her back-handed comments and snide remarks. If things had been different and I’d married Martin, she would probably have been the mother-in-law from hell.’
Mum nodded. ‘I know what you mean, love,’ she said sadly. ‘She can be a very outspoken person.’
I didn’t go to the funeral. I had the perfect excuse, because Joy was adamant she didn’t want me there. Mum didn’t go either. She was angry with Joy for banning me. However, Dad went, leaving a spray of flowers from us all on the newly dug grave. We later found out that Joy had picked them up and tossed them to one side in disgust.
Can you forgive Joy, Hattie? asked Josh from afar.
I felt my heart squeeze with pain. Anger too. I had been furious with Martin before he died, and livid with Joy for not knowing the whole story about her ‘saintly’ son.
She called me wicked, I cried, and anyway, did she ever forgive ME?
I knew, from the moment the words sounded in my head, that the question sounded petulant.
Joy’s forgiveness is neither important nor relevant. This is about you, Hattie. Your feelings… your ability to move on in life. So, I’ll ask you again. Can you forgive Joy?
I imagined myself in Joy’s shoes. What if something like that had happened to my precious son? At the very thought of Fin not being in the world with me, I felt something in me claw its way to the surface screaming in protest, my throat automatically constricting with tears. It didn’t bear thinking about. Would I lash out at the first person who might, in the loosest possible way, have put in motion the steps that lead to another’s death? It had been dreadful to be on the receiving end of Joy’s backlash, but understandable. It was human nature. Joy had never found out what Martin did. There had been no point in telling her, for it would have served no purpose, and I’d had no desire to ruin the memory of her son. No way. Joy had simply responded as any fiercely protective parent would react.
Yes. Yes of course I forgive Joy.
And the moment those words were mentally uttered, I felt my body sigh with relief, as if stretching after being bound with tight ropes. The viewing platform blurred, and I was suddenly back in my old bedroom again, the funeral yet to take place. I hugged Mum, as she did me, the pair of us crying into each other’s hair as she apologised for her own unkind words. It was at that point we were interrupted by the doorbell.
‘I’ll leave you girls to it, and see who that is,’ said Dad, clearly feeling a bit helpless with all this female angst emoting everywhere.
Two minutes later he was back, looking nonplussed.
‘Hattie, love. There’s a chap here to see you.’
Mum and I disentangled ourselves and looked at Dad questioningly.
‘Who is it?’ I asked, but I knew the answer almost immediately. For downstairs in the hallway, was Nick.
Thirty-Five
‘Let’s take a break, Hattie,’ said Josh.
I was back in the Halfway Lounge, on the sofa, and still wearing the floaty dress and strappy sandals I’d manifested earlier.
‘How are you feeling?’ he asked.
‘Strange,’ I said thoughtfully. ‘For years, I’ve been angry at Joy for blaming me for Martin’s death’ – I shook my head slowly – ‘but, peculiarly, it’s gone.’
‘There’s nothing peculiar about it, Hattie. You’ve been dragging the resentment around for such a long time, but now it’s been cast aside. Bit by bit you’re shaking off the emotional shackles that have thwarted, stifled and imprisoned you in a self-built cage of misery. One by one you are removing the prison bars. Eventually the entire cage will collapse, leaving you free to take your life in a direction you’ve never dared dream about.’
I stood up and stretched, noting and relishing the difference within my body. Joy had once accused me of having ice flowing through my veins. Now it felt like a fizzy drink was whooshing through my arteries. Indeed, my entire circulatory system seemed to be sparkling with new-found freedom. It was such a liberating feeling it was as if, somewhere deep within me, a party was going on.
‘That’s what I like to hear,’ Josh grinned, reading my thoughts. ‘Let’s prolong the party mood by doing something freakily fabulous.’ Josh caught hold of my hand, and his touch instantly had the inner party bursting out through the very pores of my skin. I gave a shiver of deliciousness.
‘What have you got in mind?’ I asked.
‘Ah ha, something that you had in your mind earlier!’
‘You’ve lost me.’
‘Shall I tell you, or do you want it to be a surprise?’
‘Definitely a surprise,’ I said, as a frisson of excitement had me catching my breath with anticipation. I wondered what he had in mind. ‘Give me a clue,’ I added, suddenly feeling like a five-year-old on Christmas Day, full of excitement at the first glimpse of presents under the tree.
‘Okay,’ said Josh, eyes twinkling mischievously, ‘it involves nuzzling.’
I nearly swooned there and then at his feet. The only nuzzling I knew about was the lips-on-neck kind… hot breath whistling in one’s ear, followed by gently spoken sweet nothings. Oh yesss! Gimme, gimme, gimme. I was up for some nuzzling all right. I batted my eyelids coquettishly at Josh.
‘Sounds like my sort of thing,’ I said, lowering my voice to what I hoped was a seductive level. ‘So, er, where is this nuzzling going to take place?’
‘Definitely not here.’
This was getting better and better. Perhaps this halfway place had a fabulous candlelit restaurant somewhere, full of atmosphere and romantic je ne sais quoi where Josh would manifest the perfect dinner à deux before leading me over to a leather sofa, the sort that was incredibly soft and squashy, and so low to the ground it was impossible to haul yourself up, in which case you might as well stay in it and, well, lie down.
Horizontally. Together. Naturally. And then… my eyes glazed at the thought… and then we could get down to the serious business of nuzzling. I could imagine it now, his lips brushing mine, then softly moving their way across my jaw, stopping at one ear, gently nibbling on the lobe before moving around to that spot just behind your earring, that patch of skin that was super-sensitive, made your heart quicken, your breath go a bit faster, and your body squirm with delight, so that before you knew it your hands had taken on a life of their own and were moving up, up, up a bit more and I’d suddenly find myself grappling with Josh’s snow-white shirt, unfastening all those glowing neon-white buttons, once again revealing the well-defined chest that I’d lusted over when he’d dragged me down to the underwater world and—
‘Ready?’ asked Josh, interrupting my reverie. ‘You look awfully flustered, Hattie. Everything okay?’
‘Yes,’ I answered, trying not to gasp. But if he could get a move on, that would be brilliant. I was feeling quite faint with longing.
He led me to the door that had previously opened into the pink and white bedroom. Okay, looked like we weren’t going to a restaurant with the squashy sit-soft area, but that was fine. I knew from experience that the Halfway Lounge’s chamber had an extremely comfortable bed that I was more than happy to starfish upon with Josh by my side. He gave my hand a little squeeze, instantly causing havoc with the inner party so that a few metaphorical burly bouncers had to be despatched to rein in the mayhem. I steadied myself against the doorframe.
‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ he asked, brow puckering with concern.
‘Never better,’ I murmured, looking up at him under my eyelashes.
‘As long as you’re sure. I don’t want to rush you.’
Rush me? Was he kidding? It was taking all my self-control not to whip my hands up to the top of that shirt, rip it apart and send all those buttons pinging off the fabric and scattering around the lounge like a split bag of frozen peas.
‘Seriously, let’s do this,’ I said hoarsely, ‘I can’t wait another second, or else I might self-combust.’
‘Ah, a whole new meaning to being too hot to handle,’ he laughed.
Blimey, flirtatious banter, or what?
‘Yes,’ I said, my breathing now in serious trouble. Enough of this suspense. It was killing me. ‘Open the door, Josh,’ I gasped.
He stared at me, as if considering whether this was a good idea or not, although I preferred to interpret it as a lingering look – certainly my eyelashes were doing the same thing because they felt as though they were melting under his gaze. But Josh must have concluded that it was fine to proceed, because he pushed down the door handle. It flew back on its hinges, but the pink and white bedroom was nowhere to be seen. I rocked back on my heels in surprise at the sight before us. But there was no time to take stock and reflect, for Josh was pulling me through the open door. A moment later and we had stepped into a huge grassy clearing edged with woodlands. The trees stretched up to the same strange lemon sky, their branches seemingly going on forever. I was reminded of a favourite childhood book about an enchanted forest full of magic. It was here that an enormous tree could be found, possibly the largest in the world, with boughs that touched the clouds and which, if you climbed it, took you to a magic land. And we were going to nuzzle here? I blew out my cheeks in surprise.
‘What do you reckon?’ Josh asked, giving me a few more twinkly looks that almost liquefied my legs, but not enough to send my body sinking to the ground. It wasn’t muddy, but nonetheless I didn’t particularly want to lay down upon it. Not for nuzzling or… well, anything else. I was just wondering whether to manifest a four-poster bed with a floaty fabric canopy for privacy, when Josh put a finger to his lips, indicating that I should be quiet.
A snap of twigs confirmed we weren’t alone. I was suddenly beset with nervous tension, and my heart rate was speeding up for an entirely different reason. In a matter of seconds my ardour had done a bunk, and the only thing I was experiencing now was fear.
I huddled into Josh, seeking protection from whatever was hiding in these woods, which my overactive imagination was deeming more unfriendly with every passing moment.
There’s nothing to fear, said Josh, reading my thoughts, except fear itself.
That’s all well and good, I mentally squeaked, but I’m not used to all this weird stuff. My heart is doing acrobat—
But I didn’t finish my sentence because two hidden beings suddenly stepped out into the clearing, revealing themselves in all their glory. They were both beautiful and terrifying. Beautiful because of their incredible size, majesty and elegance. Terrifying because they had, sprouting from their foreheads, the tallest, sharpest, deadliest-looking horns I’d ever set eyes upon. Tentatively they walked towards us. My fingers entwined tightly around Josh’s, like a woman in labour grabbing hold of her midwife’s hand.
What are they doing? I squealed.
Josh gently shook me off and pressed his palms together.
Copy me, Hattie, he instructed.
I eyeballed his hands nervously, then quickly put mine together, resisting the urge to cross myself, or even prostrate myself upon the floor and beg for mercy.
The creatures snorted, nostrils flaring dramatically, eyes rolling suspiciously as they checked us out.
Josh, I really don’t think I can stand another moment of this. Can we—
Bow your head, Hattie. As if in prayer.
That bit was easy because, funnily enough, I had a sudden overwhelming urge to pray – mainly for my life. As both Josh and I lowered our heads, hands still firmly pushed together, the creatures extended one leg forward and bowed their heads low. Their horns missed us by millimetres, and I had to stifle the urge not to scream.
They like us, Josh murmured.
Thank God for that, I gasped. What do we do now?
I’m amazed you’re even asking.
Eh?
You have a very short memory, Hattie. Hang on. Let me do a bit of cosmic rewinding here. Watch this.
Suddenly a film was playing in my head. I could see myself back in my old bedroom at Mum and Dad’s. It was that fateful Monday morning not long after hearing the shocking news about Martin’s demise. I was under my quilt wishing with all my heart that a certain mythical creature would materialise in front of me, let me climb upon its back and whisk me away through a fairy forest, its twirly horn poised to warn off anybody that dared to hurt me.
This is what you have manifested, Hattie.
Inspired by the images imprinted on my old duvet, somehow I’d plucked the very same thing from the ether, because standing before us were two enormous unicorns.
Thirty-Six
I thought you said we were going to do some nuzzling, I quavered. My whole body was rigid with tension.
We’re about to, Josh replied. Keep your head bowed, and hands together, because the nuzzling is about to begin.
Suddenly, the unicorn directly in front of me began to gently nudge me with his nose, head at a slight angle so the lethal horn didn’t slice through my entrails. My floaty dress was thoroughly inspected, nostrils flaring, exhaled air blowing against the fabric, then his nose inquisitively nuzzled down my legs, whiskers tickling my bare calves as his upper lip wiggled over the arches of my feet and then pushed at my toes. For one terrifying moment I thought he might bite me, but no, his massive head was slowly rising up again, gentle snorts getting louder as the nostrils came in line with my shoulder, then one ear. The unicorn’s upper lip tickled its way across my forehead, touching my hair, accompanied by a series of snorting grunts as he absorbed my human smell and, hopefully, lots of love vibrations, although it was fair to say that I was probably emitting, right now, more fear than a hostage being held at gunpoint.
Suddenly the creatures backed smartly away, heads tossing alarmingly. My terror was interrupted by what I can only describe as a harmonious chord filling my head, each individual note sounding and spelling out letters which my brain somehow pie
ced together as one word.
Namaste.
I remained rooted to the spot, wondering if fear was sending me mad. If not, where was the melody coming from? And what did ‘namaste’ mean? Wasn’t it something to do with yoga?
The music is coming from the unicorns, said Josh, and ‘namaste’ is a universal greeting. It’s literal meaning is ‘I bow to you’, which is what the four of us have done. Trust has been established and, more importantly, love given and received.
Music was now filling the very air around us. It was having a strange effect upon me, as if my body was being wrapped in the lightest sheath of silk, instantly soothing and calming.
Never underestimate the power of music, said Josh. In biblical accounts, King Saul was reportedly soothed by the melody from David’s harp. The ancient Greeks also believed music had healing effects. Many cultures are steeped in musical traditions. It can change the mood in a jiffy – from stimulant to sedative.
I stood in the clearing next to Josh, statue-still, and watched, mesmerised, as the unicorns tucked their legs under their bellies and dropped to the ground.
Why are they lying down? I asked, puzzled.
If you stop nattering and quieten your mind, you will hear them talking to you.
What do you mean, stop nattering? You’re the one nattering. You haven’t stopped nattering since we got here. Saul this and David that and—
Hattie? said Josh, sounding slightly exasperated,
Yes?
Be quiet and listen!
I pursed my lips, but did as he suggested and tried to think of nothing at all which, it turned out, was extremely hard to do. You see, there was an annoying and persistent little voice in my head that wouldn’t shut up. Even more irritatingly, I realised that the little voice was my own. Good heavens. It wasn’t my conscience speaking so… oh! This must be the ego. How dare Josh tell you to shut up! I do hope you’re going to put him in his place? Yes, definitely the ego chuntering away. I mentally frowned and put on my best ‘I’m the boss’ voice. Oh do bloody well be quiet! A split second of shocked silence ensued which was enough for me to focus attention on the unicorns’ song. The one sitting opposite me was regarding me with eyes like liquid pools of chocolate, willing me to understand what he was saying.
The Man You Meet in Heaven: An absolutely feel-good romantic comedy Page 16
