A Blue Sky Existence

Chapter Seventeen

       Chapter Seventeen

Unforeseen Circumstances

 His head jutted out past his shoulders, eyes like soupspoons. To see two ghosts locking lips was strange in itself; to see Victoria and James locking lips merited a place in some kind of alternate reality.

    ‘Oh, believe me,’ said Shannon as she took over Charlie’s unfinished task of closing the door. ‘It’s just as awkward for us as it is for you.’

    ‘Awkward? What’s awkward? Who said awkward? That’s not, er, awkward at all -’

    ‘You can stop saying “awkward” now, Charlie,’ said Julia from a sofa. Her feet reclined on Bobby’s lap.

    Having nothing left to say, he cleared his throat. Victoria, her arms wrapped around James’ neck, desisted and turned her head to face Charlie.

    ‘How was…?’

    ‘Hard to tell,’ he sighed, shaking his head. Fond as he’d become of the other Grims over this summer, he wasn’t in the mood to describe his close encounter with Etty in detail. There would be ample time to revisit that memory.

    James decided to begin a new conversation.

    ‘Well, your timing is spot-on. We have business to attend to, so don’t make yourself too comfortable now: the two of us are on duty for surveying someone due to die very soon indeed. Expect to be out of the door in five minutes sharpish.’

   ‘Oh, alright then…’ Charlie’s gaze wandered to the sofas. He’d actually been hoping for some down time after an already long and drawn out day.

    ‘Hey, wait. Two of us? As in, you and me?’

    ‘Yes, that would be the “us” I referred to.’

    ‘No Victoria?’ Charlie looked her way. Her arms were still slung around James like a scarf.

    ‘Not today,’ she replied. ‘I have my own clients to attend to, I am afraid.’

   With that, she lightly kissed James again, drew back and walked to the door, waving goodbye to the rest of the Room.

    ‘Right then,’ said Charlie, massaging his sinuses. ‘Where are we headed?’

    ‘Heathside,’ replied James, joining his side at the door. ‘Not so far.’

                                                                                          *

 It was one of a row of semi-detached houses, each in a different shade of cream and with its own front garden. This house had a periwinkle blue door and a “Welcome to Our Humble Abode” mat on the front step. All very homely, which dampened Charlie’s spirits - someone in this house was going to die soon.

    James walked through the gate, up the path and to the door with militant efficiency. Charlie lagged behind because, out of habit, he opened the gate and closed it behind him.

   Once inside, it became clear that this was a family home: a wooden rack shelved a pair of large leather men’s shoes, a pair of black sensible women’s shoes, and a tiny pink pair of sandals, which looked fresh out of their box. Charlie’s heart sank: there was a baby. Of course there was a baby.

   James gestured to the living room, source of two calm voices: the parents. He followed James into the airy room, bedecked with plush armchairs, a vase of flowers and two pastel rugs. Soft toys were scattered all over the place. A white cot stood close to the large window.

   The parents, who looked to be in their early thirties, were on a burgundy sofa, their backs to Charlie and James, sipping tea and chatting.

   ‘So who’s the, uh, client?’ asked Charlie.

   ‘The mother.’

   ‘Oh.’

   He swallowed, trying to stay detached. He couldn’t imagine life without his mum, and felt deeply sorry that this family was about to lose theirs.

   ‘Pretty unfortunate - she won’t have any idea until it happens, and then it will be over.’

   Charlie didn’t ask for an explanation; James gave one anyway:

  ‘Long QT Syndrome is what it’s called. It’s a disturbance of the heart’s rhythm, which means that in approximately a year’s time, her heart will simply stop, for no apparent reason.’

    ‘I don’t get it. She looks healthy to me.’

  ‘The condition is asymptomatic,’ said James matter-of-factly. ‘It’s as if there’s no cause of death whatsoever, so some people refer to it as Sudden Death Syndrome.’

   ‘Jesus,’ breathed Charlie, before turning towards James. ‘How do you know all this?’

   For a fraction of a second, he detected a smirk, as James said nothing in response. He only tapped his index finger to the side of his nose. Charlie didn’t press the matter.

   His eyes wandered over to the cot, where the baby was presumably asleep or gazing at the ceiling, in a world of its own. Then he noticed a small brown teddy bear, with a blue ribbon around its neck, on the verge of slipping through the wooden bars. Without even thinking about it, he swooped to the other side of the room, willed the bear to pause mid-fall, and propped it back up onto the small rectangular mattress.

    A cry that had formed in the baby’s throat broke into a gleeful gurgle. She - judging from the pink onesie - clutched the bear lovingly and her small hands over its soft fur. Then, while some might have called it a trick of the mind, Charlie could have sworn the little baby looked directly into his eyes and beamed at him.

    ‘Ooh, what are you chuckling about, sweets?’

   The mother set her tea mug down on the wooden coffee table, got off the sofa and moved to the cot. Charlie took an instinctive step back, and noticed James signalling that they should exit. Before they left he glanced back at the mother with auburn hair and a wide smile, holding her baby, looking perfectly contented.

    ‘Well, seems everything’s proceeding as usual.’

    ‘I still don’t understand how you can do this job and stay sane.’

  ‘Well, that’s questionable in itself, isn’t it?’ chuckled James. Catching Charlie’s downcast expression, however, he took on a more serious tone.

   ‘Distance, Charlie. That’s the key: distance. Become too attached to your clients, and it’s like losing a different family member every day. Oh, sorry - ’

    ‘No, don’t worry about it,’ Charlie responded quickly.

   They glided back to Southside, but instead of returning to the Room, Charlie followed James into the cemetery at St. John-at-Ashford’s.

    ‘What’s here?’

    ‘Your first solo assignment, my friend. I think we can trust you not to make too much of a pig’s ear out of this one.’

    ‘Well, that’s really encouraging.’

    Ignoring him, James scanned the various tombstones and occasional mausoleums.

   ‘Ah. There he is. We’ve been keeping an eye on him for a few years, as you do, but his actual death is in three days’ time.’

    ‘Right.’ Charlie hadn’t expected a date, let alone one that was so soon.

   When they turned a corner, he could see a man and woman at the end of a row, smoke unwinding from their cigarettes. He froze.

    ‘James…’

    ‘Something wrong?’

    ‘Yes. No. Yes. Very wrong.’

    Charlie’s assignment was Brody Gaddis.