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‘Wasn’t the wedding amazing?’ Marcus pondered as their plane descended into Heathrow Airport.
‘It was better than I could have ever imagined...magical. I’m sure my dad was there in spirit, just like you said on the day. And our honeymoon was the best two weeks away ever. I love you, Mr Lennon.’ Rebecca gazed at her husband.
Marcus lifted her hands to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on her fingers. ‘I love you too, Mrs Lennon.’ The fat man in the window seat next to them made a pretend retch noise. ‘Oh, sorry there, sir!’ Marcus sniggered like a naughty schoolboy. ‘We only got married a fortnight ago.’
The engine roared beneath them and the brakes began to squeal as the plane touched down on the runway. The nervous silence was broken by a hearty round of applause for the pilot as the plane started to taxi around towards its gate. Marcus felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He slid it out of his pocket and read the text message on the screen.
Welcome back, Marcus! Come and see me at the museum tomorrow at ten. I have a big surprise for you. Bring Mrs Lennon and the girls and your best man. TC x
‘What’s wrong, babe?’ asked Rebecca, concerned at Marcus’ confused expression.
‘Nothing. At least I hope it’s nothing. I don’t know what the boss has got planned at the museum, but she wants us to go round with the kids and Nicola at ten,’ said Marcus. ‘Maybe she is feeling guilty for not being there as much recently and has got a big present lined up. She even ended the text with a kiss. Yep, she’s up to something.’
‘Well, whatever it is, we will find out tomorrow! Neither of us are at work tomorrow, and I know Nicola doesn’t go back until Monday so she is free to go too. I’m intrigued now. Tell you what, we’ll do that then go into Newdon town centre and grab a bite to eat.’
‘Great idea. I vote Italian.’ Marcus smirked, knowing full well that he would have to go wherever the girls voted for.
Rebecca punched him on the arm. ‘It’ll be Nando’s I bet. You know that’s the girls’ favourite place to eat.’
***
MARCUS AND HIS FAMILY drove excitedly to collect Nicola. She walked with a spring in her step and hopped into the back of his red Ford S-Max. ‘Budge up, Hope,’ Nicola said as she plopped into the window seat. There was plenty of room for her, but she always liked to tease whoever she was sat next to.
Hope grinned and wiggled her hips. ‘Plenty of room for a pair of little ones like us!’
Nicola smiled with affection and stole a kiss from the girl. Marcus drove as he always did, with care but also with a surprising turn of speed every now and again. They arrived five minutes before the appointment time. Marcus put his staff parking permit on the dashboard—a colourful square of cardboard with the Newdon Museum logo printed on one side. It was faded from the many times Marcus had used it, to the point that the writing on it was barely legible.
Rebecca glanced at it and laughed. ‘May as well ask your boss for a new one while we are here.’
‘Yeah, I will do. If I remember,’ Marcus replied. ‘Come on, ladies, let’s go and see what the big surprise is.’
A moment later, while the others waited for Marcus to lock the car, he pressed the key fob and was secretly satisfied with the clunk of the automatic locks engaging. As the group strode across the car park, Marcus said, ‘I remember the time that I came with Mum and Dad. The wind was awful in the car park; wind eddies whirled round and kicked a load of grit in our eyes. It’s a lot nicer today.’
‘I wasn’t even born then, bro! You are showing your age talking about the old days like that.’ Hope giggled. ‘Are we going to be made to have fish and chips again when we go home?’
Marcus shook his head ruefully. ‘No. Not this time. Maybe we’ll visit a chicken place...’
‘Yay, you are the best!’ Hope always loved to visit Nando’s with her family.
As they reached the automated doors, a man with a ferret-like face flicked a switch inside the museum to open them, and the family filed into the foyer. Marcus smiled warmly at the man. ‘Thanks, Roland. Everything alright?’
Roland replied, ‘Yes, excellent actually. Congratulations, by the way, even if you are punching way out of your league.’
‘Not doing bad for an orphan, am I?’ Marcus retorted. ‘Any idea what the curator is up to?’
‘No,’ said Roland. ‘You know how she keeps her cards close to her chest. She’s been in every day though while you’ve been swanning off to the Maldives on your honeymoon. Not only that, she has been overly cheerful compared to normal too.’ Roland squished his face. ‘I even heard her singing some old Caribbean songs on Friday. Strange. I thought an old battleaxe like her would never be caught dead singing.’
That statement made Marcus bellow with laughter, which echoed round the museum. Rebecca dug him in the ribs with a sharp elbow and put a finger to her lips. Giggling, she said, ‘Shh! She will change her mind and not give us our gift if she hears you being noisy in the museum!’
‘I am not that much of an ogre, am I?’ the curator said with a stern expression.
‘Oh, shit...I mean sorry, I was only joking,’ said Rebecca. ‘Where did you pop out from anyway?’
The curator took a name badge from a trouser pocket and clipped it onto her belt. ‘Don’t look so worried, Rebecca, I wasn’t being serious. Where do you think I came from?’
Rebecca shrugged. I can never work out how to take this woman. She feels like a head teacher or something equally as frightening.
‘I was here all along, just checking that Roland here has taken care of all the dust.’ The curator ran her index finger over the top of a display case and examined the finger afterwards for any sign of dirt. She nodded with satisfaction and looked at Roland. ‘Good job there, for a change. Keep it up.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ Roland laughed and exchanged a furtive look with Marcus as if to say ‘Why is she being so friendly?’
‘Come on, this way,’ trilled the curator. As she walked away towards her office, her high heels clicked over the polished floor.
The small group followed, almost having to jog to keep up. Rebecca whispered to Marcus, ‘How does she walk so bloody fast but make it look so effortless?’
‘No idea, but it’s a good job she wears heels and not Nikes or we’d never keep up,’ Marcus said with a wink.
They reached her office and entered in single file. ‘Please. Have a seat,’ said the curator while motioning to the horseshoe shape of chairs in front of her desk. She looked in a mirror and applied a little more lipstick before pulling her blouse straight and running her hands over her hair. Meanwhile, her visitors sat in silence, desperate for her to reveal all.
Eventually, the curator sat, but she only drummed her fingers on the desk, her nails tapping out a rhythmic beat. Nicola said, ‘I love the colour on your nails. Where did you get them done?’
‘Hmm, sorry?’ said the curator. ‘Sorry, yes, down at the shops in Newdon town centre; there is a nail bar above the estate agent. Reasonable prices too. Anyway, I’m not here to talk about nails.’ She smiled tightly and glanced up at the big clock on the wall opposite her desk. When the minute hand ticked over to a quarter past the hour, a door opened and closed somewhere close by.
Marcus looked up. ‘Has someone just gone into my office? I think I had better go and check; I can use the door that joins our—’
‘No. Please, stay seated. I promise it’ll be worth it,’ the curator snapped. A short, sharp knock on the office door made everyone jump. ‘Come in!’ the curator called in her trademark authoritarian voice.
The door opened, and Rodney came into the room. He smiled widely at the group.
‘Vicar!’ exclaimed Rebecca as she jumped up and hugged Rodney. ‘Thank you so much for the service at our wedding. It was perfect!’ A tear of joy welled in her eyes.
‘Can I tell you a secret?’ Rodney said. ‘It was my favourite wedding that I have ever conducted. You looked sensational in that Princess Meghan style dress; it was perfect for you. Even better, it enabled today to be possible.’
Rebecca’s brow furrowed and she tilted her head a little. ‘How so?’
‘I have said too much already.’ Rodney sat on a chair next to the curator and said, ‘Ready?’ The curator suddenly looked delighted about something.
Nicola raised her hand in the air as if they were at school. The curator smiled gently at her. ‘What is it?’
‘Rodney, something is bugging me.’ God, they are going to think I am stupid. ‘When I was at work, quite some time ago—years, I guess—an ancient man came to have his bloods taken. His date of birth made him over a hundred years old, and if I have remembered right, his name was Rodney. He looked like you too...’ Nicola frowned and tried to ignore the strange feeling of doom settling in the pit of her stomach.
‘Nicola, it’s alright,’ Rodney said. The air in the room seemed to become still as all eyes watched his every move. ‘I know you are afraid, but please don’t be. There is no other way to say this, but you are right. I am that man.’
Gasps echoed around the group on the opposite side of the desk. Up till now, they were all guilty of being ignorant about the true afterlife. They’d only ever heard fairytales, aside from the different versions of what happened after death that they’d heard during religious education classes at school. They all remained rooted to their chairs, still looking at the clergyman.
‘You are here today to embrace the afterlife—your new life. From billions of people in the world, you are the chosen ones.’ The group hung on each of his words, all of which he had spoken with such authority that they knew he was telling the truth. ‘Nancy and Damien are management figures in an organisation called SMG—or the Supernatural Management Group, to give it its proper name. They have several friends with them that they have made since passing away from their earthly bodies. The curator here is also in the SMG; she is actually ancient. Over a hundred and fifty, I think.’ Rodney risked a quick glance in her direction before adding, ‘A lady never gives away her age as you know.’
‘I don’t get it,’ chipped in Marcus. ‘So you are telling us that Dad is dead after all?’
‘Yes, and I am sorry for your loss,’ said Rodney on autopilot. ‘And I’m sorry you couldn’t know before today.’
‘But she knew?’ Marcus asked, pointing at the curator. ‘All these years I have been coming here...and you knew? That’s—’
‘Be careful what you say,’ Rodney urged. ‘She is still above your pay grade in the afterlife.’
‘What if I refuse?’ Marcus shot to his feet. ‘No. Let me just get back to my life.’
Rodney spoke softly. ‘Sit please, Marcus. It is time.’
Marcus’ lungs released a pent-up breath as he slumped back into his chair with his arms crossed. He glanced at his wife, and a thought occurred to him. ‘How about Rebecca’s father, Robert? He vanished too.’
‘Well?’ Rebecca heard herself say.
‘Yes, your father too, Rebecca. I am delighted to say that he is in the SMG as well,’ Rodney said.
Hope surprised everyone by speaking next. ‘Can we go and see Mum and Dad now? I have never even met him.’
The feeling in the room was slipping from shock and anger to stunned silence, which floated for a heartbeat before jubilation exploded. It seemed Hope’s words had prodded the grownups into realising that they were about to be reunited.
The curator stood and stepped over to the connecting door to Marcus’ office. She rapped on the door and opened it.
‘Mum!’
‘Dad!’
‘Hope!’
‘Saffie!’
A host of joyous exclamations marked the opening of the door and the start of their reunion. Damien, Nancy and Robert ran through into the curator’s office while Maxine and Hector followed with huge grins plastered on their faces. Eloise was behind them with her usual self-satisfied smile.
‘So this is my son-in-law?’ said Robert to Rebecca. In her obvious state of shock, she could only nod and laugh deliriously by way of a reply. Robert held out a hand. ‘Pleased to meet you properly, Marcus.’
‘Sod that!’ said Marcus and pulled Robert into a bear hug.
‘Are we going to heaven?’ Hope asked the curator.
‘No, darling. Better than that, we are going to a very special place where you are going to be a princess forever. I think your mum and dad will explain it to you later, much better than I can,’ the curator said with a happy smile.
Damien looked round the room, still wiping tears from his cheeks. ‘Rodney, can I ask a question?’
‘Sure.’
‘This was your aim all along, wasn’t it? For us to clash with the curator and Eloise and everything else, all so that this day could come?’
‘Partly, yes. I knew that the curator was ready for a move upwards and onwards, but the islands are free to let events evolve as they evolve. So I have to, for want of a better phrase, go with the flow.’ Rodney opened a drawer, took out the biggest bottle of Champagne that any of them had ever seen and popped the cork. ‘When Nancy and Maxine came to see me about what they wanted to do next, they explained how they wanted to help mortal people, and that was the catalyst for the next stage of their spiritual journey.’ He poured out a glass for everyone, including a small one for each of the children. ‘My superior, as it happens, isn’t God, but it’s not far off. They said that the plan proposed by the ladies was great, but it was up to me to find some new SMG recruits to help on the islands. From now on, Lennon Isle and Maxine and Hector’s island are to be run as joint elements. When we go back, most of the current islanders will be moved onto the next stage of their soul’s journey, whether that be heaven or reincarnation. None of them are to go to ‘the other place’.’ Rodney made speech marks in the air so as to avoid having to explain further. ‘And Lennon Isle will magically grow ten new huts while all the inhabitants are sleeping.’
Marcus said, ‘Whoa, hang on a second, what’s all this about islands and stuff?’
Rodney raised his glass and said, ‘When you are all finished with the champers, I’ll show you.’
About five seconds later, most of the glasses were empty. The two girls giggled uncontrollably, and the three adults who had arrived from Newdon merely looked around at everyone else in amazement. Nicola and Nancy hugged in an embrace only shared by lifelong friends. ‘Thank you so much for looking after the bairns, Nicola. You have been amazing. And a great best man too!’
‘How do you know about that?’ said Nicola.
Nancy blushed. ‘We were there at the wedding...Robert too.’
Marcus and Rebecca shared a knowing look and smiled at one another.
‘That reminds me,’ said the curator. ‘Robert, you are to move to Lennon Isle too. Your possessions will be transferred, so don’t worry about your parrot.’
Rebecca laughed. ‘So you did get a parrot, even if it was after you popped your clogs!’ She turned to Marcus and explained, ‘Mum would never let him have one, right up to when she died twenty years ago.’
Marcus didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the memory shared by his wife.
‘Come on then, gang,’ said Rodney. ‘We have an afterlife to go to.’
The ensemble of people followed Rodney and the curator through the still empty museum and headed for the old musty storeroom.
Rodney wrapped his fingers around the handle to the tragically infamous door. ‘Welcome to your new ever after, Marcus, Rebecca, Hope and Saffron. I trust you will have the time of your lives.’ He opened the door and gestured for everyone to file through. A second later, the group found themselves standing on a meadow above a cliff. The newcomers looked back at the door, and gasped in astonishment when they realised it had vanished.
‘Oh my God! Where are we?’ exclaimed Hope. ‘Look! There’s a puffin, Mum. I remember you telling me about those and their clown bills! Look! There’s Rocky!’ The big dog came running over from the edge of the cliff, barking and bounding around. Thankfully for the Lennons, Eloise had been kind enough to bring Rocky to the island via a portal so he too could enjoy eternity with his family.
Nancy put an arm around Hope’s shoulder. ‘There is a lot to tell, and it’s going to take a long time. But this here, this is forever. Come on, let’s go to your new home.’ She smiled at her daughter, and the moment their eyes met, they both broke down in tears of unbridled joy.
Hector held out his arms to Hope. ‘Come on, young lady, jump on my shoulders. It is a bit of a trek!’
Hope looked to Nancy, who nodded her encouragement. ‘Go on, sweetheart. I know he is a giant, but he is very gentle.’
Robert swept Saffron off her feet and plonked her onto his shoulders, and both girls giggled. ‘Are you my grandad?’ Saffron said, peering down at the man who was carrying her.
‘Aye, pet, I am that.’ Robert’s immense grin grew even wider as he looked up at his granddaughter.
‘Let’s get home so Hector can make us all a nice cup of tea,’ said Damien, winking at his great friend.
‘Guess I am the tea bitch again?’ Hector cringed as soon as the b-word left his mouth, and he suddenly realised he’d have to get back into teacher mode with youngsters around. Seeing Hector blushing with embarrassment, hearty laughter followed from the others.
They set off walking back to the village with the sun on their backs and birdsong filling the air.
‘This is unbelievable,’ Nicola said. ‘I’m sure I’m going to wake up any minute.’
Rodney placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. ‘No, this is all real, Nicola. You are now a kind of guardian, if you like. I’m sure Nancy and Maxine will fill you in tomorrow.’
‘And what a tomorrow that is going to be!’ Nancy said. ‘The start of our happy ever after.’
––––––––
The End
Note from the Author
I would be very grateful if you would leave a review for the book. I have also written two follow ups to this book, called ‘The Right Time for Death’ and ‘Never Too Late for Death.’
About the Author
It is true, what they say; you never know where life is going to take you.
I’m lucky enough to have had a diverse experience of life thus far.
Back in 1975, I was born in Doncaster, a town in South Yorkshire, England. I’m proud of my Yorkshire roots.
Over the following few decades, I lived in various places. I went to university in Derby and gained a HND and a BA (Hons). Since then, I lived and worked in a few more places before finding the love of my life.
We moved in together, found ourselves in Corby, got married and had three kids. What an adventure; it started fifteen years ago. Since then, I am proud to have served as a Special Constable. I wanted to join up full time, but life had another plan. At the time, I was working for a major national supermarket as a HGV (large truck) driver, which I did for over a decade. I became ill—I think it was during 2011—but the illness never went away. Now I am disabled with various chronic illnesses, which resulted in my losing my job about five years ago.
I did wonder where life would take me next.
Mark Nye, a superb writer and a good friend, asked for submissions for an anthology. I wrote a short story called ‘Famously Ordinary.’ To my delight, Mark told me it was a good story. By then, I had caught the writing bug!
The anthology was never actually published, so I made it into a novella and published it myself. The rest, as they say, is history.
Get in Touch
Email: Simon@farrantfiction.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/simonfarrantofficial
Twitter: @asfarrant
Website: www.farrantfiction.com
Newsletter: Subscribe and receive a FREE copy of From Jamaica to Eternity. This short story shows us the curator’s back story. https://dl.bookfunnel.com/8ubonootjy
Other Work by Simon Farrant
Hard Boiled Crime:
The Crucifix: A novella, available as paperback and eBook.
Famously Ordinary: A novella, eBook only
Death Dolls: A novel.
Newdon Killers: An Omnibus of the above three books.
Driven to Murder: A novel.
Anathema: A collection of short horror stories, co-authored with Mark Nye, and a bonus story by Matt Hickman.
mybook.to/Anathema