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

by Debbie Viggiano

  I found my voice. ‘How come we didn’t fall?’

  ‘Because I wouldn’t let you.’

  ‘So I could have fallen?’

  ‘Technically speaking,’ he nodded. ‘Look, Hattie, there’s a couple of things you need to know. In this place, nothing can harm you. So even if you’d plummeted down, you wouldn’t have been injured, although you would have experienced everything else associated with falling – the speed of the descent… panic… and so on. Secondly, while you’re here, you have the power to make something happen just like that’ – he clicked his fingers, as if to demonstrate – ‘so, if you want a brandy, you simply think about wanting the brandy, and you’ll get it.’

  ‘Excellent. Well I’d like to go home, Josh, so I’m going to think about that and whisk myself right out of here.’

  ‘Ah, ’fraid not,’ he smiled. ‘Theoretically, of course, you should be able to do that. But it’s outside the Law, so consequently it won’t happen. After all, if everyone could do that, we’d have all sorts of people popping in and out of this place whenever it suited them.’

  ‘Are there other people here?’

  ‘Yes and no.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘There are other people here in this half-dimension. However, you can’t see them, and they can’t see you due to different vibrational frequencies. Like you, they are here for a reason. If you could all see each other, it would be too distracting. Therefore, all of you only see your mentor. You’re asking some great questions, Hattie, but to answer them would be going into the realms of quantum physics, and I have it on good authority that the subject was never one of your best when you were at school.’

  I sighed. He was right. I loved the fact that he knew about quantum physics. Cleverness and attractiveness were a lethal combination in a man.

  ‘So to continue,’ said Josh, ‘the Law here does not allow you to “think” yourself back home otherwise it would work in reverse and allow human beings to “think” themselves here the moment life got tough. It’s important that human beings figure out how to get through difficult situations and stick around to resolve the lesson. Running away from life and all its complexities is not acceptable. What is allowed is making the magic happen in your world.’

  ‘You’ve lost me.’

  ‘If you want something hard enough, invariably you’ll get it. You just need to put the intention in place. Once the intent is there, a shift occurs. The universe sets things in motion for you.’

  I snorted with ridicule. ‘You mean like cosmic ordering?’ The brandy had hit its spot and loosened my tongue. ‘Sorry, Josh, but I’m struggling to keep up.’

  ‘I’m simply talking about the basics here.’

  ‘Yes, well I’ll prove you wrong on that little homily,’ I said, surprised at the sudden anger in my tone. ‘You see, there were lots of things I wanted in life, Josh, but unfortunately they didn’t happen, despite the intent being in place. I wanted a husband who was faithful. For my son to have his father. To live the proverbial “happy ever after”. So what happened to all that then, eh? Answer me that!’ I could feel myself choking up. ‘Are you telling me I brought that all upon myself?’ I demanded.

  If silence could ever be deafening, then this was one of those moments. I wiped away a tear that had leaked out of one eye.

  Eventually Josh blew out his cheeks. ‘That’s a lot of questions, Hattie.’

  ‘I didn’t ask for Nick to be a bastard who chased anything in a skirt.’

  ‘No,’ he said quietly, ‘but you unwittingly set in motion the wheels that drove him to punish you with his extra-marital affairs. Remember?’ His eyes suddenly pinned me to the outside wall of the Halfway Lounge. Two bright blue headlamps were lighting up dark corners of my soul, like twin spotlights searching out escaped convicts. I stared back defiantly, but my eyes were the first to look away.

  Seven

  ‘Look,’ I said quietly, my gaze sliding away to stare at my tatty trainers. The laces were badly chewed, courtesy of Buddy. ‘I hear what you’re saying, Josh, and despite the bizarreness of this situation, I do kind of believe you. After all, dreams are usually fragmented. A nonsensical muddle. And yet this place’ – I looked up at him, feeling my heart momentarily skip a few beats as I encountered those gorgeous blue eyes that were still trained upon me – ‘well, all this seems very sane – in an insane way.’

  Josh threw back his head and laughed. ‘That’s a great way of putting things into some sort of context.’ He nodded. ‘I’m not judging you, Hattie. That’s not my job. You’re the one who does that.’

  My brow furrowed. ‘Judge myself?’

  ‘Yes. But that’s rather a harsh word. I prefer the word “review”.’

  ‘Ah, yes. You said earlier. I have to review my life.’

  ‘Only when you’re ready.’

  I chewed my lip. I didn’t think I’d ever be ready. Josh must have read that last thought, because he moved away from the veranda rail and came over, hunkering down to my level as I sat on the chair. His face was full of kindness. Ooh no, I didn’t want his sympathy. That would have an adverse effect and, yes, dammit, it was already happening. I could feel a chin wobble coming on.

  ‘I appreciate this whole experience is surreal, and downright confusing. Can I suggest something?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, my chin now quivering rather dramatically. Please don’t be kind to me. It might open the floodgates.

  ‘Currently you’re feeling overwhelmed. Why don’t you sleep on things?’

  ‘I don’t want to go to sleep here,’ I replied in a small voice. ‘I miss my son. And my dog.’ God, I’d even suffer one of my mum’s wretched dinner parties with the buck-toothed Mark Jackson if it meant I could just click my heels, like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, and find myself back in Vigo Village. Whoever had written that movie script was right. There was no place like home.

  ‘I promise you will go home.’

  I looked up at him hopefully. ‘Now?’

  He shook his head imperceptibly. ‘Eventually.’

  My heart sank. Never had I felt so despairing.

  ‘Come on,’ said Josh, taking me by the hand and pulling me up on my feet. One way or another, we seemed to be doing an awful lot of hand-holding. His warm touch once again sent some high-voltage zings whizzing through my body. He led me across the lounge to a door I’d not noticed before. Pushing down the handle, I was astonished to see a pretty bedroom, just like the sort of room I’d have loved to have at home, cash flow permitting. I’d always been a bit of a pink princess, and the soft furnishings in this room didn’t disappoint. A queen-sized bed dominated the room, its buttoned satiny headboard soaring up to the ceiling. The bedcover depicted rose-coloured spriggy flowers, and the plumped-up pillows looked invitingly soft. Matching curtains hung at the picture window, and restful floral prints graced the walls. I could almost feel the bed calling to me, and suddenly felt a bit foolish standing in the doorway holding Josh’s hand, like a lover full of anticipation. I don’t know whether he read that last thought, but he diplomatically let go.

  ‘Make yourself at home, Hattie.’ He gave me a little prod and, after a moment’s hesitation, I crossed the threshold. ‘See you later.’

  I nodded, not quite trusting myself to speak, emotion now well and truly lodged in my throat. Seconds later the door quietly closed. I was alone. Kicking off my trainers, and without bothering to undress, I crawled under the duvet. The cover was as light as a cloud and smelt comfortingly like a soap powder my mother had used when I was a small child. I pulled the quilt up to my chin, balling into the foetal position. Feeling strangely soothed, I closed my eyes. Seconds later, I was fast asleep.

  Eight

  I don’t know how long I slept but I was awoken by my mobile phone ringing. Opening one bleary eye, I saw the screen glowing away on the bedside cabinet. I wiggled my toes under the duvet and snuggled into a tighter ball, unwilling just yet to let the outside world intrude. To hell with it, voicemail could
pick up the call. Like a steel portcullis, my eyelids clanged shut again. However, the caller wasn’t to be deterred. Seconds later the mobile once again burst into life. Annoyed, I sat up and grabbed it. The display told me it was my mother.

  ‘Mum,’ I said, ‘if you’re ringing to persuade me to attend yet another accidentally-on-purpose event starring Mark Jackson, it’s a no.’

  ‘Hattie? Hattie are you there?’

  ‘Yes, of course I’m here,’ I said, stifling a yawn.

  ‘I’ve just had a very alarming telephone call from my friend Edith. She said she was doing some shopping in Tesco and spotted you in aisle three, so she thought she’d trolley over and say hello, but apparently you started chucking cans of baked beans around—’

  ‘What? I did no such thing! I accidentally knocked some tins off the shelf and tripped over and—’

  Oh for heaven’s sake, Mum wasn’t even listening to me.

  ‘—and it wasn’t just one or two tins, according to Edith, it was loads and loads, and they were flying up in the air, and several of them landed in aisle four, and someone tripped over them, and apparently they smacked down hard on the floor and were out cold—’

  ‘Mum, could you just listen to me for a minute—’

  ‘—and Edith said it was pandemonium, and somebody screamed for an ambulance to be called—’

  ‘Look, it must be a very bad signal because you don’t seem to be able to hear what I’m saying—’

  ‘—and, well, I’m just ringing to make sure you’re all right, because that sounds very out of character for you, although I know you sometimes suffer premenstrual tension, but surely it’s not so awful that you’d go berserk in Tesco, eh, love?’

  ‘Mum, can I call you back, please, because this is a really bad line—’

  ‘Edith said she couldn’t see what happened after that because staff directed shoppers to stand back for the paramedics, who were there in a matter of minutes – whatever people say about the National Health Service, they do a marvellous job – anyway Edith lost sight of you after that, so could you ring me back just as soon as you pick up this voicemail because you know how I worry, and I’d really like to know what on earth possessed you to do such a thing—’

  Oh for heaven’s sake, this was ridiculous. And why was Mum referring to our conversation as a voicemail? Wasn’t she aware I’d answered her call?

  ‘CAN YOU HEAR ME, MUM?’ I bellowed into the handset.

  ‘—and if it is PMT you really must make an appointment with your doctor, because you can’t make free with tins of baked beans, Hattie, it’s not good for your health, and clearly not good for whoever was strolling down aisle four. It would be awful if you got sued—’

  ‘It was an accident!’

  ‘—so don’t forget to call me as soon as you get this message, darling.’

  There was a click from the other end. Mum had hung up. I checked the number of bars on the mobile. Zero. A little message in the top left-hand corner of the screen read ‘No Service’. I sighed and chucked the mobile back down, then flung back the duvet cover. A little puff of Buddy’s hairs momentarily filled the air. It was high time that dog stuck to his basket instead of lolling all over my newly laundered bedding the moment my back was turned.

  Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I paused as a distant memory began to filter back. Oh yes. That’s right. I’d been dreaming of being in another dimension. The Halfway Lounge that supposedly belonged to Him Upstairs. I snorted with contempt at such fanciful imagination and stared around my bedroom. Yes, my bedroom. I was back in my cottage, complete with faded duvet and – I sneezed – beagle hair. I felt ridiculously happy. Outside the bedroom door I could hear Fin talking to Buddy who was woofing joyfully, no doubt demanding his breakfast. I grinned, ramming my feet into my slippers. Standing up, I grabbed my comfortable old dressing gown hanging from the lopsided peg on the back of the bedroom door. As I wrapped it around me, tying the cord, I thought a decent cup of coffee wouldn’t go amiss. In fact, forget using the bathroom. I’d go and put the kettle on right now!

  I opened the bedroom door. And stepped straight back into the Halfway Lounge.

  Nine

  The door shut behind me and I stared, open-mouthed, at Josh. He was sitting on the sofa I’d been laying upon when I first arrived in this place. He stood up to greet me.

  ‘Hey! How do you feel?’ he asked solicitously.

  For a moment I was too angry to speak.

  ‘How do I feel?’ I eventually spluttered. ‘How do I feel?’ I strode over to him and waggled a finger under his nose. ‘I feel absolutely outraged. Furious. Livid. How dare you trick me into thinking I was back home in my cottage? What sort of person are you? Actually, don’t answer that. I’ll answer it for you. You’re cruel, that’s what you are.’

  I turned on my heel and stomped out to the veranda. My tatty trainers were back on my feet, and I was once again dressed in scruffy joggers and a hoodie. I stared moodily at the sylvan scene before me. I hadn’t even had a chance to put the kettle on and make that longed-for drink.

  ‘Here,’ said Josh, coming up beside me. ‘Drink this, and then I’ll explain.’ He passed me a steaming cup of coffee. Wordlessly I took it from him. The cup was exactly like the one I drank from at home, wittily captioned ‘You’re a Mug’. Oh, I was a mug all right, and there was nothing remotely witty about this situation.

  A silence prevailed, broken only by the sound of me making unfortunate slurping noises.

  ‘Sorry,’ I muttered, after another two minutes of interminable silence had passed.

  ‘Apology accepted.’

  ‘You’re not really cruel.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I just said that to annoy you.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Do you know everything?’

  ‘Mostly.’

  ‘Including the design of my cup?’

  ‘I read your thoughts about wanting a coffee and provided it for you. But you’re the one who turned the cup into a replica of what you use at home, just like you’re the one who changed the bedroom I created for you into a copy of where you usually sleep.’

  ‘Right,’ I said flatly. ‘And hearing Fin talking to Buddy was simply my imagination, eh?’

  ‘Kind of. Let me explain something to you, Hattie. You might think it’s complex, but it’s breathtakingly simple. You manifest what you want by thinking it. Remember I told you that, on Earth, a shift takes place when intent is established? Well, here it is instantaneous. Your coffee is a “thought construct” put together by vibrational building blocks. On Earth, where vibrations are denser, it’s not possible to pluck a cup of coffee from thin air. But it’s still possible to feel the vibration… the intent. For example, how many times have you walked into a room and sensed an atmosphere? Plenty! That sensation is a diluted form of “thought construct”. Thoughts might not be visibly tangible on Earth, but if they are dark enough they can be keenly felt, and still hurt those we love.’

  ‘You’re blinding me with science.’

  ‘Okay, scrap the above. Change it to “wishful thinking”. Except here, it happens!’

  ‘Okay,’ I said in a small voice, ‘I’m understanding better how I subconsciously changed the pink and white bedroom into the human form of a dog basket that is my bedroom at home.’

  ‘Good!’

  ‘I’m sorry for having a pop at you.’

  ‘You don’t have to apologise for anything, Hattie. I appreciate this is wacko stuff for you to deal with.’

  I smiled at him, liking his use of the word ‘wacko’. It was typical of my own type of vocabulary, and I once again felt a sensation of being on the same wavelength as this guy. It wasn’t just spine zingers he gave me – quite a few of my brain cells were doing a happy dance, too.

  ‘Was my mother’s telephone call wishful thinking?’

  ‘Ah.’ Josh inclined his head, whilst considering how best to explain. ‘No, that was something different. She re
ally did telephone your mobile, but answering her call in this dimension is outside the Law, and therefore not permitted. So her call went to voicemail which you “tuned into” whilst in a relaxed state.’

  ‘I don’t want her worrying about me.’

  ‘Don’t panic. Everything is under control back home.’

  I shook my head, feeling more than a little befuddled.

  ‘Mum mentioned that another shopper had been injured. Knocked out. I feel terribly responsible. Are they okay?’

  ‘Yes. Again, everything is under control.’

  ‘Thank goodness,’ I said, relieved. ‘Er, where’s the bathroom?’ Perhaps a nice hot shower, blasting a big fat jet of water over my body, would soothe my frazzled feelings.

  ‘You don’t need a bathroom here. Nor do you need to sleep, eat or drink. They’re just earthly habits you’re experiencing. But sometimes the soul needs to rest because it is processing a lot. There was a heap of that going on when you went to bed earlier.’

  ‘Right,’ I said, my tone morose. I swallowed the last of the coffee, welcoming its warmth. As I tipped back my head and drained the last drop, the mug vanished from my grasp. At the same time, something reared up inside me. An emotion. I recognised it instantly. A sensation of squaring one’s shoulders. Facing up to a situation. Growing a backbone. I could only presume that my soul had done enough ‘processing’ while I’d been asleep to feel fortified enough to get on with the reasons why I was here. I’d had enough of this place. The view from this veranda might be stunning, but it was starting to make me feel like screaming. I wanted out. And if the exit door to this halfway place was via reviewing unpleasant chapters of my life, then so be it. Josh was now looking at me with both surprise and delight.

  ‘Are you ready to begin, Hattie?’

  I nodded, and gave him a determined look.

  ‘Let’s get on with this, eh?’ I said. ‘Where do we start?’