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

by Debbie Viggiano

  ‘Yes,’ I sighed. God, what a mess. Years and years of emotional chaos. ‘But, Josh, deep down I did know. You can run from the truth, but it has a way of constantly catching up with you. Every now and again that carefully constructed wall would threaten to crumble… a brick would fall out… sometimes several… and I was like a builder on amphetamines hastily patching it all up. I was constantly checking the foundations didn’t wobble and, if they did, scrabbling to find other ways of propping it up in order to maintain the illusion. Anything – and I mean anything – that would allow me to continue convincing myself that none of us were living a lie. As the years went by, that wall became a barricade with barbed wire along the top.’ I shook my head. ‘I’ve never admitted any of this to anyone. Nobody knows the truth, Josh,’ I said sadly. And then I recoiled in horror as a thought occurred. ‘Is part of my being here also to do with owning up to my son? Do I have to tell Fin?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But… that doesn’t seem right, somehow.’ I licked my lips nervously. ‘It smacks of dishonesty.’

  ‘Okay, so let’s discuss the idea of potentially telling Fin. Think carefully, Hattie, and answer me one question. What purpose does it serve?’

  I shrugged. ‘Well, I’m not sure, as such. Doesn’t he have a moral right to know?’

  ‘You tell me. Would it be beneficial for Fin – and Nick for that matter – to deal with this socking great bolt from the blue? Can you anticipate their reaction? Do you see them jumping for joy at such news? Can you be sure their relationship would remain unchanged? Do you think they’d happily accept this bombshell – the circumstances of Fin’s conception followed by Martin’s awful demise – and simply give you a hug and say, “Heyyy, no harm done!”? Or do you think such action might, in fact, open a stinking can of worms that benefits nobody other than you from an offloading perspective? The latter of which, I might point out, you’re now doing anyway, so therefore it has no benefit for anyone in your family, least of all Fin and Nick.’

  ‘Right, well, put like that, no. It’s better to stay schtum.’ I could feel my eyes filling up again. ‘But I feel so guilty, Josh.’

  ‘Okay, well you can drop the guilt right now, because I’m going to tell you something that will rock you.’

  ‘What?’ I asked tremulously.

  ‘Nick is Fin’s father.’

  I stared at Josh, gobsmacked. ‘You mean… all these years… oh my God! Are you telling me that I’ve been mistaken all this time?’ I couldn’t believe my ears, but my body was majorly reacting to Josh’s words. It felt like huge invisible shackles were falling off me, leaving me beyond joyous. Elated. Dear Lord, I was flying with happiness. No more would I mentally flay myself believing I was guilty of lying! ‘But… but I don’t understand. There are too many physical resemblances between Martin and Fin. He has the same smile as Martin. Certain expressions…’ I trailed off, suddenly uncertain, doubting what Josh had told me.

  ‘Hattie, look at me,’ he said softly. I gazed up and saw such compassion in his eyes, such immense kindness, it brought a whopping lump to my throat.

  ‘Remember when I told you that even the most complex situations have simplicity?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, my voice quavering slightly. I felt like I’d just stepped off a merry-go-round of madness but was in danger of being pushed back on it. I didn’t want to be full of fresh doubt and find myself once again spinning endlessly, like the lie I’d been living.

  ‘I was telling you the truth, Hattie. Out of this complex situation there is one certainty. Nick is Fin’s father. Think about it. Who raised your son? Who helped you with broken nights? The endless colic and, later, teething? Who wiped Fin’s brow when he had a fever? Who came to stand at the school gates as you waved your little boy off on that first day? Who shed a tear with you? Who always rushed from work to be by your side if there was a problem – like the time Fin had a fall and ended up in hospital with concussion? Even when you split, he remained involved with his son. He’s still there for Fin. Whatever Nick lacked as a husband, he has given in spades as a parent. So ask yourself again, Hattie. Who is the real father of your child, and your heart will instantly answer.’

  ‘Nick,’ I said, without any hesitation.

  ‘Yes, Nick. You see, it doesn’t matter whose DNA went into making up the flesh and bones of your son, it’s who has been there for him. And the answer to that question – and has always been the answer to that question – is Nick. So now you understand that Nick is indeed Fin’s dad. He always has been. Always will be.’

  I nodded, knowing every word Josh was saying was true. Understanding and euphoria rippled through my core. There was no need to reveal the past to Fin… Nick… anyone… because it didn’t matter. It simply wasn’t relevant.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Josh, reading my thoughts. ‘You can’t change the past, but you can make your peace with it, and move on.’

  Tears were pouring down my face now, but I was smiling. Josh pushed himself up from his easy chair and opened his arms. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to spring to my feet and walk straight into his embrace. He held me tight, and I hugged him back, hard. From a place deep within my heart, another oppressive layer shook itself free. I felt like I was standing on the threshold of a brand new future. A future where everything was shiny and bright and – at last – untainted. Nick and Fin could carry on enjoying their father and son relationship, which was, after all, what they’d always had. And always would.

  Forty-Seven

  As Josh continued to hold me, for one crazy moment I was tempted to thread my fingers through his hair and pull his mouth towards mine. The jubilation of discovering Nick was truly Fin’s dad was almost like a physical sensation. I could have sworn I was literally feeling happiness flowing through my veins. It was heightening everything – including the effect Josh’s touch was having upon me.

  ‘You need a review break,’ said Josh, gently releasing me from his arms.

  ‘I think you’re right,’ I said, letting my hands fall reluctantly to my sides.

  ‘Do you still feel like you’re “flying with happiness”?’ he said, his eyes twinkling playfully.

  ‘Y-e-s,’ I carefully replied. ‘I know that look you’re giving. You’re going to suggest we do something crazy.’

  ‘You’re getting to know me so well, Hattie,’ he beamed.

  But not nearly as much as I’d like to, I privately lamented, wondering how Josh would react if I told him I was not only in love with him but wanted to push him down on the squashy sofa I’d just abandoned, leap on top of him and cover his face in lots of frantic kisses. He’d probably have a coronary – if such a thing were possible in a place like this.

  ‘What have you got in mind?’ I asked, wishing that he would reply, ‘You’, before striding over and pulling me back into his arms and lowering his lips to mind and snogging me roughly, but gently, but firmly, but softly, but—

  ‘Are you all right, Hattie?’ he asked.

  ‘Sorry?’ I gasped. Good heavens, why did my mind have this habit of wandering off into fantasyland?

  ‘You’ve gone all pink.’

  ‘Ah, y-yes, it happens sometimes.’

  ‘Does it?’

  ‘Mm. Sometimes I get all hot and bothered.’

  ‘Really?’ said Josh, his eyes doing that infuriatingly attractive twinkly thing again.

  ‘It’s just a hot flush.’

  A hot flush, Hattie? At your age? And even if you were old enough to experience such a thing, it’s hardly romantic to mention it. Do you honestly believe Josh would like to be included in reflecting upon the finer nuances of your hormonal system?

  ‘Right, well so long as you’re okay, let’s press on. Your thought processes have manifested an interesting excursion.’

  ‘Really?’ I said, eager to get off the subject of my red face and curious to see what Josh was hinting at.

  ‘Come with me.’

  He caught hold of my hand and led me
to the Halfway Lounge’s door. I’d stepped through this portal a few times, and now I wondered what lay beyond on this occasion. It reminded me of a television programme I’d watched as a child, where different shaped windows had been presented to the viewer with a guessing-game of what lay beyond. As Josh opened the door, I let out a little cry of surprise.

  We had stepped into the cockpit of a hot air balloon and, even more thrilling, were already at two thousand feet drifting through the sky… a proper sky this time, with a bright sun and soft puffs of clouds. I breathed in deeply, relishing the fresh air, the swathe of Kent countryside below, and the sensation of having the world at my feet. With a jolt, I realised that I truly did have the world at my feet. It was right back home, and waiting for me.

  Josh and I didn’t talk for a while, allowing ourselves to just ‘be’. We drifted in companionable silence, with only the occasional blast of the burners for company.

  ‘I’ve done this before,’ I eventually murmured.

  ‘I know,’ Josh smiled. ‘Your eighteenth birthday present from your parents.’

  I nodded. ‘We went as a family. When the balloon took off, I was terrified but, weirdly, having Mum and Dad there too also made me feel safe. I’d never thought it possible to experience both fear and security at the same time, until that moment,’ I chuckled at the memory. I was lucky to have such wonderful parents and, again, was reminded of the good stuff in my life. ‘I’ve promised Fin the same birthday experience when he’s eighteen.’

  I broke off, suddenly feeling incredibly homesick. It didn’t matter what had happened in my past. The only thing that truly mattered was the future. And oh, how I wanted to return home and have that future waiting.

  ‘Let’s press on with your life review, Hattie,’ said Josh. He took my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze of reassurance.

  I didn’t reply. The balloon excursion had been a smooth experience. But now, something far bumpier was awaiting.

  Forty-Eight

  We were back in the Halfway Lounge, me sitting on the squashy sofa, and Josh once again ensconced in the easy chair opposite me. Both of us were enjoying an après flight aperitif of some sort. I had no idea what it was, but it reminded me of brandy. Perhaps Josh had given it to me as a fortification measure for what lay ahead. Despite knowing I was shortly in for a choppy ride in ‘review time’, the balloon jaunt had left me feeling strangely energised.

  ‘It’s true,’ said Josh, picking up on my thoughts. ‘You’ve basically done the cosmic equivalent of charging a battery. In your case, you were the battery, and the flight was the electrical charge. Which is good, because there’s a lot coming up. However, there is now light at the end of the tunnel – as everyone says on Earth. The end, Hattie, is in sight!’

  ‘And then I can go home?’

  ‘Yes. You will soon be returning to normality.’

  ‘Good,’ I said, adopting a chipper tone. Home. It was what I so wanted, although I was dreading saying goodbye to Josh. I had a horrible feeling that absenting myself from him would break my heart. I had visions of drooping around the cottage sighing a lot. Disappearing with Buddy for long, pensive walks. My mother regarding me beadily as she puffed away on one of her ciggies. Perhaps I would have to take myself off for a spot of counselling.

  Counsellor: Broken heart, you say?

  * * *

  Me: Yes (reaching for handy box of tissues placed on functional table).

  * * *

  Counsellor: It happens to the best of us. Where did you meet?

  * * *

  Me: On the astral plane.

  * * *

  Counsellor: Don’t think I know it. Ah, wait, Berkshire?

  * * *

  Me: No. Heavenwards. It didn’t take us long to get there.

  * * *

  Counsellor: Heaven… er, as in the afterlife?

  * * *

  Me: That’s right (perking up). At one point, I was in a hot air balloon.

  * * *

  Counsellor: (reaching for notepad and scribbling frantically) Barking mad… delusional… but not a threat to society…

  I wondered if Josh would miss me. Probably not. Twinkly eyes and the occasional bit of flirty banter did not mean he felt the same way about me. And anyway, even if he did, it wasn’t possible to be together. I wondered if there was a way to unite these two worlds? I felt like there might be, but couldn’t quite put my finger on it. But it was no good pondering this dilemma. Not yet anyway, because a far more pressing one was about to happen.

  ‘Are you sure you’re ready for this, Hattie? There’s no pressure. We have all the time in the universe.’

  ‘No, not at all, it’s fine,’ I said hastily, taking another slug of the brandy-like liquid. I drained the glass and put it on the floor by my feet. ‘Tell me how to travel to the next bit of reviewing.’

  ‘That’s easy. Firstly, close your eyes and relax.’

  I sat back, my lids fluttering shut.

  ‘Good. Now, concentrate on the flavour of what you’ve been drinking,’ said Josh, ‘and acknowledge the echo of its taste on your tongue.’

  I focused on the subtle nuances and discovered I could name the ingredients. Impatiens, Rock Rose, Clematis, Star of Bethlehem, Cherry Plum… good heavens, how did I know this?

  ‘What are you doing?’ said a male voice.

  My eyes snapped open. Nick. I’d left him by a roaring log fire in the pub where I’d broken the news to him that he was an expectant father. But now the scene had shifted. We were back in his apartment. The bathroom, to be more precise. The wall-mounted cabinet was open. Something small and hard was in my hands. From my safe place, I once again found myself both peculiarly watching and reliving an old drama.

  I glanced down at a bottle of Rescue Remedy caught between my fingers. The lid had been removed and, from the taste in my mouth, it was apparent I’d delivered a hefty squirt of the stuff under my tongue.

  ‘It’s a flower remedy,’ I replied.

  ‘A what?’ Nick frowned. He didn’t believe in anything ‘alternative’ and had a distinct aversion to anything that wasn’t conventional. Ask him about Chinese medicine and he’d have told you that the only herbs he liked were those with his crispy duck. He peered at the bottle in my hands. ‘What’s it for?’

  ‘Um, stress,’ I mumbled, faintly embarrassed. I sensed, rather than saw, him rolling his eyes. I’d stashed a couple of bottles of the stuff, which were only small, behind my floral shampoo, which I knew Nick wouldn’t touch and had therefore thought a good hiding place for the remedy.

  ‘It must be working,’ he quipped, ‘because I’ve never known you so uptight.’

  I screwed the lid back on and hastily shoved it in the cabinet. It was then that I caught sight of my belly. Good heavens, it was huge. My mind flew off and did some mental calculations on exactly how pregnant I was. It came to me in a flash. Around six months, and I’d been living with Nick for the last two. I shut the cabinet door. It was mirrored and reflected the view beyond the bathroom window. Outside, a round-shaped bonfire of orange was rapidly sinking beyond the horizon, turning the sky into a canvas of grey and purple feathery clouds shot through with gold. It looked beautiful. Unlike me. I was shocked at the tired young woman gazing back at me in the mirror. I turned away and regarded Nick properly.

  He was dressed casually, but smartly enough for me to know that he was off out. The scent of freshly applied aftershave hung in the air between us.

  ‘Thought I’d pop in on Tod and Jackie. They’re having a bit of a drinks do.’

  Tod was Nick’s charming brother, married to the insufferable Jackie who was a big-breasted monumental bore and totally up her pert little backside.

  ‘I told them to expect me about eight-ish, so I’d better get a wiggle on. See you later, Hattie.’

  I leant back against the sink, momentarily rooted to the spot. It was Saturday night. He was going out. Again. Leaving me alone. Again. This pattern had started about a fortnight ago, but in
the last week the pace had picked up dramatically.

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ I said impulsively.

  Nick swung round, his face neutral, but for a split second I’d seen his look of alarm.

  ‘Is that a good idea?’ he asked, arranging his features into an expression of caring concern. ‘You said you weren’t feeling well. I don’t want you overdoing it, darling.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ I tutted. ‘How can chatting with your brother and sister-in-law be overdoing it?’

  ‘It’s quite a crowd they’ve invited over. Nobody really sits down at these types of events. They all stand about clutching warm drinks, rocking back on their heels and making inane conversation. It’s pretty boring in all truth. I’m only going because Tod begged me to keep him company. Ninety per cent of the crowd are Jackie’s friends, and we all know what planks they are.’

  ‘You sound like you don’t want me there.’ It was said lightly enough, but Nick knew I was challenging him.

  ‘Don’t be daft,’ he said, but his tone held no conviction. ‘You’re the one with elephant ankles at the moment, not me. If you want to aggravate them further by not keeping off them for the next few hours, that’s entirely up to you. Shall I wait for you to get changed then?’

  He was calling my bluff. I was about to double-bluff him and say, ‘Two seconds, let me exchange this awful smock for my poshest maternity tent’, but my bravado was interrupted by a wave of nausea. I’d discovered that there was no such thing as morning sickness in this pregnancy, but evenings were an entirely different matter. Unlike the cheerfully worded advice in the text books, the affliction hadn’t subsided as the pregnancy progressed. I clutched the basin as my face turned the same colour as the porcelain.