The Man You Meet in Heaven: An absolutely feel-good romantic comedy

by Debbie Viggiano

Lucinda glared at me. I found myself volleying back the triumphant look she’d thrown me earlier, but almost immediately chastised myself. For God’s sake, Hattie. They’re flipping kids! Act your age and not your shoe size. You’re not back in the playground. But the trouble was, Lucinda and Charlotte made me feel like I was.

  The downpour eventually stopped. The children, mercifully, jumped back on their bicycles leaving us briefly alone together.

  ‘Do they hate all your girlfriends?’ I asked tentatively.

  ‘Yes,’ Nick chuckled. ‘Hey, don’t take it personally. They gave Caroline and Janey a hard time too. They are also vile to any new man that takes an interest in my first wife.’

  ‘Good to know,’ I said, trying to laugh it off but still feeling ridiculously hurt. I reminded myself that these were two little girls displaying emotional fallout from their parents’ failed marriage. It was perfectly natural to feel possessive about their mother and father, and dislike newcomers encroaching on their splintered family.

  Before leaving the park, Nick insisted both children use the loo.

  ‘I’m not stopping at the Services,’ he warned, ‘so go with Hattie, please.’

  I trailed after them as they crashed into a vacant toilet stall together. Inside my own cubicle, I hung my handbag on a peg and pulled down my jeans. What a day. I was cold, wet and my morale had done a complete bunk. From elsewhere came the sound of someone gustily breaking wind, which sent Lucinda and Charlotte into a fit of giggles.

  ‘Oooh, someone just blew off,’ said Lucinda in a telltale voice.

  ‘How rude,’ said Charlotte, adopting a hoity-toity tone, like that of an adult. ‘Where are that person’s manners?’

  ‘How dare you,’ screeched an indignant voice. ‘I’ve got an upset stomach.’

  Both girls tittered naughtily before launching into some energetic raspberry blowing.

  ‘Oops, ’scuse me,’ said Lucinda, ‘my tummy isn’t right’, and let rip with another string of farty sounds.

  ‘The minute I get my backside off this toilet, I’m going to report you kids,’ came a furious squawk.

  ‘Oooh, I say,’ said Charlotte, making sounds like a deflating balloon, ‘my bum seems to be on fire.’

  ‘Girls,’ I warned, hastily zipping up my flies and erupting out of my cubicle, just as a Vera Duckworth lookalike catapulted out of hers.

  ‘Can’t yer keep yer bluddy kids under control?’ yelled Vera, purple with rage. ‘Call yerself a mother?’

  Whereupon another cubicle door flew open revealing Lucinda and Charlotte, both sporting peeled back lips and snarling faces.

  ‘She’s not our mummy,’ shrieked Charlotte, ‘she’s just another horrid woman like you.’

  And with that the pair of them darted out leaving me stammering apologies to Vera.

  Thankfully, the pair of them fell asleep on the return journey. I’d presumed that Nick was going to drop me off first. Instead we eventually drew up in a beautiful tree-lined road, fringed with elegant houses.

  ‘I thought I’d get them back, so we can have a bit of us time,’ he murmured.

  ‘Oh, that’s nice,’ I said, perking up.

  He let himself out of the vehicle and disappeared around the back, unstrapping the bicycles and then getting the girls’ weekend bags out of the boot. At the sound of doors opening and closing, Lucinda and Charlotte sat up and stretched.

  ‘We’re home!’ Lucinda squeaked with delight.

  ‘Say goodbye to Hattie,’ said Nick, as the children scrambled out of the car, eager to put as much distance as possible between us.

  ‘Bye, darlings,’ I quavered after them. They ignored me. They belted off, running up to the smart front door of a swish house. It looked like the type of property owned by someone who worked in the money markets – or, in this case, someone who’d had a lucrative divorce settlement. I couldn’t help staring. My goodness, it was very different to the bachelor pad Nick was renting. I wondered if he missed this place. Stupid to think he didn’t. The door opened, and a glamorous woman greeted her daughters. Naturally the kids were all smiles. For the first time since I’d clapped eyes on them, they looked angelic. Charlotte then spoilt it by discreetly showing me two fingers, while Lucinda flipped the bird. Good God! What horrible, horrible children! I immediately felt wracked with guilt for thinking such thoughts, but couldn’t help it.

  I watched as Nick and Amanda exchanged brief pleasantries, and couldn’t help noticing how stunning she was. Her hair, professionally blow-dried, curled attractively over her shoulders, and her clothes looked expensive and chic. I felt shabby in comparison, my blonde mop tangled and damp from wind and rain, my nose still pink from the endless cold of the day.

  When Nick eventually returned to the car, he tucked himself behind the wheel of the old Citroen with a sigh of pleasure.

  ‘I don’t know about you, Hattie, but I need a stiff drink and something decent to eat – and most definitely not theme park fare. There’s a charming Italian bistro just around the corner. Fancy it?’

  ‘Looking like this?’ I protested, indicating my damp jeans and dishevelled hair.

  ‘You look fabulous,’ he said, winking, ‘and anyway, don’t worry about those clothes. It’s what’s under them that counts. You have the patience of a saint and the body of an angel which – I might add – I want to caress for all eternity.’

  Suddenly I didn’t give two hoots about his precocious children. In that last sentence, Nick Green had made it clear he was interested in me long-term, and I couldn’t wait to encourage this, thus putting emotional mileage between the past and, well…

  My face was wreathed in smiles as we went into the trattoria together, arms linked, looking like a proper couple with eyes only for each other.

  ‘You’re amazing, Hattie,’ he said, as we glugged gratefully at our red wine.

  ‘So are you,’ I said, the wine emboldening me.

  ‘Do you like children?’ he asked, after a moment’s silence.

  The question caught me out. Was he testing me? Thinking, perhaps, of me in a future step-parent role?

  ‘Well, er…’ I shrugged.

  ‘You can be honest,’ he laughed. ‘Have Charlotte and Lucinda put you off having kids forever and a day?’

  Wow, he was testing me. His mind must be flitting off to the distant future, thinking about starting all over again with me, maybe another baby or two in the equation.

  ‘I can’t say I’ve ever really had much to do with children,’ I said carefully, ‘but yes, of course I like children. I’m certainly not averse to them, if that’s what you mean.’ Didn’t want him thinking that I’d never oblige with a son and heir.

  ‘That’s good to hear,’ he said, looking relieved. ‘So you won’t mind if Lucinda and Charlotte join us again at some point?’

  Oh. He had been testing me, but not in the way I’d imagined.

  ‘N-No,’ I stammered, privately thinking I couldn’t imagine anything worse.

  And then he said something that further disconcerted me.

  ‘I love my daughters to bits, but I don’t ever, ever want any more children. So if you do,’ he said, not unkindly, ‘it’s best you find yourself another boyfriend before we get in too deep.’

  On the one hand I was delighted to hear Nick refer to himself as my boyfriend. But on the other, I was dismayed at his emphatic tone about never wanting to be a father again. Especially when those words came winging back four months later.

  Forty-Three

  Do you want to take a break, Hattie?

  From somewhere far away, Josh spoke quietly in my head. Suddenly I felt drained. Whether it was from the day at Legoland in the bitter cold, the effects of the red wine, Nick’s warning about never wanting children again, or simply being on the receiving end of Lucinda and Charlotte’s endless loathing, a wave of tiredness washed over me.

  Yes, please, I replied.

  In the blink of an eye I was back in the Halfway Lounge with Josh. I put my hands to m
y temples and massaged vigorously. I felt as though I’d just been pulled from a giant cosmic tumble dryer churning a muddle of mismatched garments. Right now, I was struggling to keep up with events. One moment I was shopping in Tesco, the next riding unicorns on Margate’s sandy beach, and in yet another instant I was plunging back into the past with an ex-husband and two kids that couldn’t bear to share their airspace with me. Hell, the likes of Trump and Putin didn’t need to go to war with missiles. All they needed was an army of Charlottes and Lucindas to infiltrate their countries and both governments would be fleeing for the hills.

  ‘And that is precisely why it’s a good moment to take a pause in your review,’ said Josh, with wry smile.

  ‘Eh?’ I said, frowning in confusion.

  ‘Charlotte and Lucinda.’

  ‘What about them?’

  I was sitting down on one of the squashy sofas, still wearing the damp jeans and hoodie that I’d been wearing when having dinner with Nick in the trattoria.

  ‘Here,’ said Josh, passing me what looked like the same glass of red wine that I’d been enjoying earlier with Nick.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, taking a greedy glug. I’d forgotten how Charlotte and Lucinda had the propensity to drive me to drink.

  ‘Hmm, definitely needs addressing,’ said Josh, more to himself than me.

  I took another sip and regarded him over the rim. God, he was good-looking. And so much nicer to be with than Nick. I felt as though I could always be myself with Josh. No need for airs or graces, or worrying about my appearance or having to impress with good behaviour.

  ‘Won’t you join me?’ I asked. ‘I hate drinking alone.’

  ‘Sure,’ he grinned, as a glass of red liquid materialised in his hand. ‘Cheers!’

  ‘So,’ I said, kicking off my trainers and tucking my legs up on the sofa, ‘what exactly needs addressing?’

  A comfy chair appeared out of nowhere, close to me, and Josh sat down. The light in the lounge seemed to dim to one of intimacy and ambience. Good heavens, all we needed now was a roaring log fire and this would be just blissful.

  ‘I agree,’ said Josh, as the lounge morphed into a cosy country pub, complete with log-filled hearth crackling and popping away. The place looked familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

  ‘You do realise you are completely messing with my mind,’ I said, arching one eyebrow.

  ‘Nonsense,’ he grinned. ‘This is all meat and beer to a woman like you.’

  ‘Is it indeed?’ I bantered back, thinking how lovely it was to be with him again, and wishing it could be forever.

  ‘However,’ he said, holding his index finger up by way of pointing something out, ‘Charlotte and Lucinda have left impressions upon your soul.’

  ‘Here we go again,’ I sighed, ‘but yes, I don’t doubt.’

  ‘Not good impressions either.’

  ‘They were challenging kids.’

  ‘Ah, but it’s not the challenges that left the impressions. It’s the way you felt about them that is the issue.’

  I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, not liking the turn in conversation.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You didn’t like them, did you?’

  ‘Josh, that’s an awful thing to say,’ I protested, trying to dance away from the truth. ‘They were just little girls.’

  ‘But very disagreeable ones, right?’

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose’ – I blew out my cheeks – ‘but they couldn’t help the way they were.’

  ‘Maybe not at that age,’ Josh agreed, ‘but later, when you became a family with Nick, and when they were old enough to know better. Their dislike of you became out-and-out hatred, and that was when you found yourself struggling even more with your own feelings about the girls.’

  I blanched. Put so concisely, it sounded awful hearing that two human beings detested me for no reason other than that I’d dared to once love their father, and that their hatred had darkened my feelings towards them.

  ‘They harboured hopes that their mother and father would one day get back together,’ I said, knowing that I was making excuses for them. ‘They had dreams about them all being reunited and living happily ever after. A lot of kids from broken homes have the same aspirations. I’m sure many step-parents all over the country are on the receiving end of occasional vitriol.’

  ‘Sure. But again, Hattie, I will remind you that right now this isn’t about how they felt. It’s about how you felt, and how your thoughts scarred you. You know, it’s perfectly okay to dislike a couple of kids.’

  ‘Is it?’ I asked, astonished.

  ‘Of course. They gave you a hard time and you reacted like any human being would. You distanced yourself. It’s a protection mechanism. It doesn’t mean you’re some sort of monster.’

  I considered this. Hearing Josh talk about Charlotte and Lucinda in such a matter-of-fact way made it all sound so reasonable. The truth was, for years I’d beaten myself up over never bonding with Nick’s daughters. Don’t get me wrong, I’d tried. From the days of pretending we were a jolly blended family, making picnics for outings, attempting to be some sort of grown-up sister to them when holidaying together, and later, when they were teenagers, suggesting we all go shopping and have a fun girly time. I’d thrown cash at them, which they’d grabbed. But the love I’d done my damnedest to dredge up had been chucked back. Then came a further recollection, later still, of the two of them as the young women they became and now were, coldly telling me that neither I nor my precious son meant anything to them. They’d blatantly announced that they didn’t care if they never saw either of us again. It had hurt. Indeed, there had been years of hurt. So much so that, in my darkest, most despairing moments, I’d detested them almost as much as they’d detested me. I’d resented the number of Christmases that had been wrecked by two spoilt brats who had grown into two most unpleasant young women.

  It had all come to a head on our final family Christmas together. The very last time Nick and I were together as husband and wife, and Fin had wrongly been accused of smashing Charlotte’s expensive make-up palette. Nick had popped out to the garden shed to get some logs for the wood burner and missed the altercation.

  ‘Do you know how much that cost?’ Charlotte had snarled, her face contorted with rage as Fin had cowered away.

  ‘I never touched it,’ he’d bleated, ‘it was you who dropped it. I saw you.’

  ‘How dare you lie, you nasty little piece of shi—’

  ‘That’s enough, Charlotte,’ I’d interrupted, the lioness in me roaring into life. I didn’t care how either of these girls treated me, but I would not have my darling boy on the receiving end of their nastiness.

  ‘Don’t you speak to me like that,’ said Charlotte, her eyes narrowing, ‘you’re not my mother.’

  ‘No, but I am Fin’s mum, and I won’t have him made a scapegoat for your clumsiness.’

  Lucinda had sidled over, joining her sister and, huddling close, given Charlotte moral support. They’d stood there, two pairs of ice-blue eyes meeting mine, full of loathing. Charlotte had inclined her head, as if considering me for the first time. When she’d next spoken, her voice had been low.

  ‘We hate you, Hattie,’ she’d hissed.

  ‘Good to know,’ I’d quipped back, ‘because I hate you too.’

  In that moment I’d meant it, and my expression must have confirmed it because both girls looked shocked, the hurt on their faces mirroring what they’d spent years dishing out to me without a second thought. But within seconds, I’d regretted my words. I was older than them. Supposedly wiser. Instead I’d sunk to their level. And I’d detested myself for that.

  ‘But there’s no need to beat yourself up about it, Hattie,’ said Josh, gently bringing me back to the present. ‘In that moment, you felt protective of your son and were indignant. Years of frustration rose to the surface and in one teeny, tiny second, you lowered yourself to their vibration. That doesn’t make you a bad person.’

&nbs
p; ‘Doesn’t it?’ I said miserably, taking another swig of wine.

  ‘One hundred per cent,’ said Josh kindly. ‘You did everything you could to give those girls a second family base with emotional security. However, I need to flag up that this is an important moment in your review break.’

  ‘God, I feel like I’m still reviewing, except doing it from this halfway pub.’

  ‘In a way you are, but this is an easy matter to clear up, so long as you can now make peace with yourself over the retort you made to Charlotte. Do you feel able to?’

  I considered Josh’s question. It didn’t need a lot of thinking about. ‘Of course. I don’t want to bear grudges. The past is over and done with. Lucinda and Charlotte are part of that past and were simply casualties of a marital fallout. If Nick had married someone else instead of me, then that lady too would have been on the receiving end of their hatred. It was the same with Nick’s second wife. They didn’t want anything to do with her – and the same applied to any girlfriend of Nick’s the moment the relationship started to look serious. It wasn’t personal, and anyway, I never really hated them. That’s too strong a word.’

  ‘So you no longer hate yourself for reaching the end of your tether?’

  ‘No, and you’re right,’ I nodded, ‘I’m not a bad person.’

  Almost immediately I experienced the weirdest feeling. It was as if a pair of invisible hands had pushed themselves through the wall of my stomach, separating all the skin and muscles, and were busily rubbing away some inner part of me; as if I’d had a blocked intestine which, after all these years, had suddenly cleared. As though confirming such a thought, my guts gurgled alarmingly.

  ‘Perfect,’ said Josh. ‘The energy is flowing again. You’ll be amazed how much better you will feel when you’re back in Earth time.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I grinned.

  ‘Parenting is a hard task,’ said Josh.

  ‘Do you speak from experience?’ I asked. Josh had revealed that he was in love with someone, but hadn’t said anything about them having children together. For some reason my heart lurched at the thought.