I left Yasmin finally settling down to her work and walked quickly in the darkness. Tomorrow was to be my last Monday on earth and I planned to spend it at school. Mum was always banging on about the benefits of a good night’s sleep in term time so I decided on Gran’s greenhouse as my sanctuary again.

When I pushed open the creaky little gate Gran was in the garden, taking in some washing. As she looked briefly in my direction, I melted back into the deep shadow cast by a tall conifer. After a few seconds she turned away and continued to unpeg Dad’s and Jamie’s shirts from the line. In profile her face was sharper, her cheeks more sunken. She looked frail. I was worried that all the help she was giving to Mum and Dad was too much for her. The back door was open and the light from the kitchen glowed enticingly onto the soft round cobbled path. I hesitated, on high alert for any sign of Darren. The night air was still, and although it was cold, there wasn’t that bone-chilling iciness which seemed to precede his appearance. I knew it was against the rules, knew that I might get into trouble, but Gran seemed lonely standing there in the dark, so I couldn’t resist. As she lifted the green plastic washing basket and balanced it on her hip, I nipped inside the house.

All houses smell different, but Gran’s is very distinctive. The air is layered with the scent of beeswax polish, home-made lemon barley water and tapestry wool. I breathed in deeply. It was blissful. We sat together at the little round table next to the bay window while she ate her supper of boiled eggs and soldiers. I stroked the tablecloth which had been embroidered by my great-grandmother and wished I could feel Gran’s elegant silver spoon balanced between my fingers.

I’d forgotten how relaxing her house is, how safe it feels, how the atmosphere is ingrained with her unconditional love for us. I longed to tell her how much I loved her back, to explain that I didn’t love her any the less because I didn’t sit on her knee any more or cuddle up for a bedtime story. Suddenly, I realised that growing up didn’t have to mean growing apart. I wished I could have told her that too, but somehow I think she already knew.

After she had eaten, Gran put on a jazz CD while she ironed the shirts, spraying them with a grassy-smelling linen water to help her remove every last crease. She baked a coffee cake, Jamie’s favourite, and cleaned a silver frame which contained a photo of Gramps. Finally, she moved into the sitting room to sit on the green velvet sofa and watch a detective programme on television. I lounged in the chair next to her. Time seemed to slow down. Death seemed a lifetime away.

After the news at ten-thirty, Gran made herself a hot drink and took it upstairs to bed. I followed her, but at the top of the stairs stepped into ‘my room’. It was the room I always used to sleep in when I came to stay. Gran had decorated it with pink wallpaper, and there were still a couple of my teddies resting against the pillow. I hadn’t slept in that bed for ages, more than a year. When we were little, Jamie and I used to stay with Gran a lot. She’d buy us those little variety packs of cereal for breakfast and afterwards we would walk down the fields at the back of her house to the stream. Sometimes we would spot a kingfisher or rabbits, and sometimes we would catch minnows in our lime green nets and bring them back to put them in a baby bath in her garden. Once Jamie was leaning over so far that he fell into the stream, and even though the water wasn’t terribly deep Gran plunged straight in after him to lift him out. She would do anything for us, my gran – absolutely anything.

I was lying on top of the bed, almost asleep, when she came in. I hadn’t expected it and she didn’t switch on the light. I lay perfectly still as she smoothed the quilt around its edges and drew the curtains across the window, blotting out the moon. She was in her dressing gown, holding her mug of hot chocolate, and she moved over to the corner to sit in the old button-backed chair. She sat there for ages, sipping her drink, staring into space. I wished I could work out what she was thinking. I wished I could have talked to her. After about half an hour she got up and went through to her room. As she passed close by my bed, the light from the landing lit up her face. It was wet with tears.

I didn’t sleep well. Gran was up in the night. At 2.00 a.m. I heard the click of her light switch and the rustle of the newspaper. At 4.03 a.m. I awoke again as she went downstairs. There was the clink of bottles from the drinks cabinet in the dining room and I knew she was probably putting a capful of whisky into her tea or hot milk to help her sleep. It obviously didn’t work because just before 6.00 a.m. I heard her running the bath. I got up and looked at myself in the mirror, expecting that my outline would be fading now. It was more than halfway through my allotted life in limbo. Surely I should be getting weaker, more haggard-looking? Surely I shouldn’t look so rested and be able to see myself as well as I could?

It was a fair walk to school and still dark when I left Gran’s house. For once in my life I didn’t want to be late. The moon was still out, hanging beautifully in the sky like a luminous Christmas bauble. I strode out, ears pricked, eyes darting from side to side, ready for Darren, whenever he chose to appear. I had a twinge in my side, stopped, bent double, and of course he took advantage of my moment of weakness. You don’t always have to see something to know it’s there. There was no sound, no rustle of wings or fluttering of dried leaves as he landed but, as I watched the breath stream from my mouth like a plume of smoke, I knew he was watching.

“Go away,” I gasped. “Leave me alone, can’t you! I don’t remember being stalked as part of the bargain.”

“I’m just checking that you’re all right.” He sounded offended. The bite had gone from his voice but I wasn’t buying it. He wasn’t to be trusted.

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

I straightened up and there he was, scarily immaculate in a starched white shirt and tight-fitting chinos, but still no shoes. He leaned back slightly and looked me up and down.

“You’re making it hard for yourself, you know,” he said, “and for me too.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Have you always been a bit of a rebel?”

I clasped my hand to my side. The stitch wasn’t going away.

“Me? You’re joking, aren’t you? You’re the one who called me a wimp and a scaredy-cat – remember?”

Was that only yesterday when he had flown me to Kelly’s house? I was trying to pack so much into so little time. It was as if I was trying to live my whole life in the space of a few days.

He frowned.

“I know where you’ve been so you might as well admit it.”

“Okay, I stayed at Gran’s again last night, and you obviously know that I wasn’t in the greenhouse. Gran looked as if she needed the company, and to be honest, so did I.”

He was silent. I looked him straight in the eye.

“Go on then, beam me up. I’ve broken the rules again so take me back with you. It’s the sixth today, isn’t it? You could easily rub out a bit of the number eight and change it to a six – no one would know.”

He looked horrified.

“I can’t just go changing these dates willy-nilly,” he said. “It wouldn’t be right.”

There seemed to be some sort of clockwork device whirring around in my head, like the mechanism at the back of Gran’s longcase clock.

“So the other day, when I’d been home, you weren’t really going to take me back and toss me in a cupboard?”

He shrugged, pushing his lips forward into an impressive pout.

“It’s a last resort,” he murmured. “Only to be used in an emergency.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“What sort of an emergency?”

He shifted from one foot to the other, and fiddled with a strand of his hair.

“Those awkward people I’ve mentioned,” he whispered, “the ones who get silly ideas about survival. The ‘eternity escapees’, we call them. They have to be rounded up.”

“And how do you do that?” I asked.

He clicked his fingers and a large silver net appeared in his hand, rather like those ones that naturalists use to catch butterflies, except much larger.

“Cool!” I exclaimed, imagining him running around like the child-catcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.

He grinned.

“Isn’t it?” he said. “I haven’t had to use it yet, but I can’t wait.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“N-not that I want you to think I’m callous or cold-hearted,” he said.

“Of course not,” I replied.

He twirled the net above his head like a cheerleader and shot me a sideways glance.

“Maybe I’ll have to try it out on you.”

I curled my toes up inside the shoes and stood very still.

“I’ll make it easy for you.”

“Oh, that’s no fun,” he said, leaning closer. “You have to run away.”

The net was beside me now. One sharp movement and I’d have been entangled in its silver threadwork.

“But I really don’t want to have to take you back with me yet,” he said with a sigh. “It will create all sorts of complications.”

With another click of his fingers the net disappeared.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he whispered. “I think it’s rather nice that you went to see your gran. I was very close to my grandmother.”

His eyes clouded over, turning a dark navy blue.

“I miss her a lot.”

A silver teardrop appeared at the corner of one eye. I put my hand out and touched his arm. His shirt felt crisp, as if it had been freshly laundered.

“I’m sorry. Can’t you go back and see her?”

He sniffed, wiped his nose with his sleeve and shook his head.

“Not as much as I’d like to. Too busy, you see. Promotion, responsibility, quotas, not enough hours in the day, all of that stuff.”

“Is it worth it?” I asked. “Being an angel of death?”

He looked shocked.

“It’s one of the top jobs. If you’re put forward you don’t turn it down.”

“Why, what happens if you do? Are you condemned to shovelling coal to keep the fires of Hell going?”

He stepped back and suddenly I felt the cold radiating off him again.

“It’s not a joking matter,” he said prissily. “I’m not sure that you’re taking all of this seriously enough, Jessica.”

“Oh believe me, I am,” I snapped back. “Deadly seriously, and my time is precious too. You’re holding me up.”

He looked affronted.

“Where are you going now then, that’s so important? I thought you’d seen all your friends?”

“I have, but not together. I’m going to school, remember? I asked your permission yesterday and you said it was okay.”

“Did I?” he retorted. “Oh well, if you say so. My head is spinning from everything I have to think about. You’d better get going then. Far be it from me to hold you up.”

“Fine,” I said, and I began to walk.

He stayed exactly where he was, and just before I turned the corner out of sight I looked over my shoulder. He was still watching me.