Текст книги "A Fate Worse Than Death"

Автор книги: Jonathan Gould

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

Chapter 8

I PICKED JESSIE UPAND CARRIED HER into the bedroom. I placed her on the bed and then lay beside her. She didn’t say anything, but she grabbed hold of me and clung on for dear life. Her breath came in gasps, and her whole body shook like a chandelier in a thunderstorm.

After a short time, she seemed to relax. Her trembling ceased and her breathing became more regular. She still clutched on to me, but there was a new urgency to her grasp. Her face came close. Her eyes were closed as her lips sought mine.

I untied her robe and lifted it off her. For a seemingly lightweight garment, it felt surprisingly heavy as I tossed it onto the floor. But I had other things on my mind as Jessie wrapped her arms around me and pulled me to her. For the next hour, I finally felt like I really was in Heaven. She might have been an angel but . . . I think you can guess the rest.

Afterwards, she slept, but I couldn’t. I lay awake, listening to her breathing and wondering. Wondering what, if anything, the disappearance of Raphael had to do with my current case. Wondering why Jessie was so terrified of the mysterious man I had seen at Sally’s house. And, in particular, wondering how long I could resist temptation and ignore the bourbon that sat out in the kitchen.

At least the answer to the third question was obvious—not long at all. I got out of bed and tiptoed into the kitchen. I downed both glasses and then tried to sneak back into the bedroom, but I wasn’t quiet enough. As I slipped into bed, Jessie rolled over and raised her head.

“What are you doing?”

“I can’t sleep, Angel,” I said. “There’s too much on my mind. Too many things that don’t add up, and too many people who aren’t what they claim to be.” I looked pointedly at her as I said it, but as the room was dark, it probably didn’t have the effect I hoped for.

“Does it have anything to do with Raphael’s disappearance?” she said.

“I don’t know. It might. Can you tell me about him?”

Jessie sighed. “I guess he means well. It’s just that he really gets on everyone’s nerves. He’s always trying to set up community groups and charities that nobody else is the slightest bit interested in.”

“Including you?”

“I suppose so. I try to be nice to him, but every so often, well, you just can’t help yourself. When he has an idea, he won’t let it go. Every day he comes up to you. ‘Can you help set up a secondhand clothes collection drive? Will you sponsor me in a read-a-thon? Would you like to become a member of my harp band?’”

“I would have expected harp bands to be pretty popular in these parts.”

“I doubt that harp bands will ever be popular in any parts. But look, I really don’t dislike him. I’ll always try my best to be friendly to him, I guess because that’s just the way I am.”

Just the way she was. So gentle and caring. Her words had all the sincerity of a beauty pageant finalist.

I said, “I have a confession to make, Angel.”

“What would you need to confess to me?” As she spoke, I had to admire her. She really had that sweet and innocent act nailed.

“Do you remember that picture in my office? The one sitting on the desk?”

“The picture of your wife?”

“That’s the one. Only she wasn’t my wife.”

“She wasn’t?” The surprise was genuine. “Then who is she?”

“I have no idea. The picture came with the frame. I picked it up in a shop yesterday, mainly to decorate the office. The truth is, I’ve never been married. There was no wife. No smooth-talking shoe salesman.”

“And your arches?”

“They rise with the best of them.”

“So what was the point of that story? Why would you deceive me?”

“What was the point of that story,” I repeated, speaking very slowly for effect. “I can give you a one word answer to that question. Credibility.”

“That makes no sense. How does telling a lie increase your credibility?” The voice was still soft, but it had acquired a harder edge. One I hadn’t heard before.

I said, “One of the keys to being a successful private investigator is to be an absolute screwup in pretty much every other aspect of your life. Nobody would trust a detective with a happy home and family. They would have no credibility.”

“Why not just say you’ve never been married? For a man your age, that seems to represent a certain level of failure.”

“That’s true, but it’s still not enough. The detective game is a tough business. I can’t afford to go for any half measures. This way, not only do I have a failed relationship in my past, but by keeping the picture of the wife that betrayed and humiliated me, I reveal that I still carry the torch. The clients love that sort of stuff. It allows them to feel superior, no matter the nature of their own problems. Cutting a wretched, broken, and tragic figure is the only way I can maintain the competitive edge I need. And I can assure you, Angel, I really need it.”

She was silent for a moment. Then she spoke.

“So why are you confessing this to me now? Aren’t you afraid you’ll lose your credibility with me?”

“I have no interest in retaining that sort of credibility with you. The reason for this confession is simply to make a point.”

“What point?” She was still doing her best to sound like a sweet young schoolgirl, but that schoolgirl was growing up fast.

“When I pull that ex-wife routine on my clients, it’s because I want to give them a particular impression about myself. It’s an act, a character I hide behind so the client can’t find out too much about the real me. Now the most important part about putting on an act like that is making sure you don’t leave any gaps. Every possible aspect of the character must be covered, so nobody can see through it.”

“That all sounds very clever, but I don’t see why you need to make this point to me.”

“Because one of the advantages of becoming adept at this act is that it’s much easier for me to see through other people when they try to pull it on me. Especially when they’ve left gaps. Big ones.”

“What do you mean by that?” In the darkness, I could sense her pulling away from me.

“Before I saw Sally, I went to the library.”

She was sitting up now, her head propped on her hands. “You really have a strange style of conversation. Do you always prefer changing the subject, rather than explaining yourself?”

“Don’t you want to know what I found?”

“Is it pertinent to anything we’ve talked about so far?”

“I’ll leave that for you to decide. What I was looking for were historical records. Initially, I was only interested in one particular record, but as I searched I had the chance to see many others, and they revealed some very interesting details.”

“Such as?”

“Each of those records represented minutes from the executive meetings of the Heavenly Council. As far as I can tell, this council is comprised of God himself, His sons, St Peter, a number of less significant deities, and you angels. Certain members of the council seem to play a more prominent role in discussions than others. Peter, for instance, plays a relatively minor role, which given his work commitments is no surprise. Sally and Raphael, on the other hand, are both highly involved. However, oddly enough, motions presented by Raphael are rarely successful, while those put forward by Sally are almost never defeated.”

“That is interesting, but not all that surprising.”

“You’re right. It isn’t surprising at all. What is surprising is the total lack of involvement by someone who I would have expected to care quite a lot about how Heaven is governed, especially given the comments she made to me only yesterday. I didn’t see your name mentioned in any of the minutes. Not even once.”

Jessie sat very straight. I could feel her eyes boring into me.

“I guess there are some matters I’d rather leave to others.”

“Leave to others like Sally?”

“I didn’t say I was happy about it. I’d like to be able to go into the council and stand up to Sally. I guess I just don’t have the confidence.”

She didn’t have the confidence? That didn’t just take the cake. It took the icing and the candles as well. The time for game-playing was over.

I said, “You don’t have the confidence, and I have the credibility of a goose.”

Jessie stood up. “Perhaps you’d prefer it if I left.”

I grabbed her by the waist and pulled her back onto the bed. “You’re not leaving until you tell me the truth. You came to me yesterday, acting all flighty and mysterious, then disappeared when the questions got too difficult. You reappeared tonight and pulled this wilting rose petal act. You did it pretty well, but I‘ve seen it a hundred times before. Now call me a sucker, but I actually believe your fears are genuine and I’d like to help. But until you start giving me some information that vaguely resembles the truth, I don’t see how I can.”

She sat motionless for a moment, then lay back and put her head on the pillow. “You’re right,” she said. “I have a confession to make too.”

I didn’t say anything. It was her turn to do the talking.

“There’s a reason you didn’t see my name in any of those council minutes. It’s because I wasn’t actually at any of the meetings.”

“An absentee angel?”

“No.” She paused. Her lips were pressed together tightly, as if she wanted to stop the words escaping. Finally, she forced them out. “An absentee, but not an angel.”

It was my turn to be genuinely surprised. “What did you say?”

“You heard,” she said, her voice now as bitter as coffee grounds flavoured with lemon rind. “Would you like me to say it again? I’m not an angel. Are you satisfied now?”

“If you’re not an angel, who are you?”

“Just a woman. Just a normal, everyday woman. I lived my life, I died, and I was sent . . . down below.”

“Why were you sent . . . down below?”

“I’d prefer not to talk about it. I didn’t live a particularly good life. I did a lot of things I wasn’t proud of, and hurt a lot of people. And that’s why they sent me down . . . Oh what’s the point in being precious about it? That’s why they sent me down to Hell, to do my time and endure the punishments of a life ill-spent.”

“You don’t seem to be enduring much punishment.”

She started to reply, but I placed a hand over her mouth.

“Save it,” I said. “This is a story that should be told over a drink.”

She nodded. “Last drink for a condemned woman.”

I went back to the kitchen, grabbed the bottle and the glasses, and returned to the bedroom. I poured two glasses and handed one to her. She held it to her lips, and with a delicate flick she downed its contents. A second glass met with a similarly swift fate.

“So, a funny thing happened on the way to Hell,” I said. She was right. The time for euphemisms was over. I felt a sense of release having finally uttered the word.

Jessie shivered. “There’s nothing funny about Hell.”

“It’s really that bad?”

“The place you lived in before you died. What was it like?”

“It was a charming place.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes. We had a wonderful family called the Bostinos, who looked after everyone and made sure nobody ever misbehaved. They had all these lovely little games they liked to play. Games where if you lost, they’d beat your brains out. Actually, that’s not completely true. If you won, they’d beat your brains out too.”

“So you think it was pretty rough?”

“I know it was pretty rough. If a boy didn’t have at least twenty knife scars by his fifth birthday, his sexuality was called into question.”

She laughed. A cold, hard laugh. “Hell’s worse.”

“You really think so?”

“Listen to me, Jimmy. Anything your Bostino family dished out would be like a Christmas party compared to Hell.”

I finished my glass and poured another for myself. I offered one to her, but she shook her head.

“What makes Hell so bad?” I said.

“I can’t tell you. The memories are too strong. Too terrible. All I can say is that after many long years of pain, I found a way out. I stumbled on a secret passage between Heaven and Hell.”

“Must have been your lucky day.”

“When I first made it to the top of the passage, I couldn’t tell if it was good luck or bad. I would spend hours looking out into Heaven, envying all of the good people who had made it here, and dreaming of the day when my time in Hell would finally be up and I could join them. But I didn’t dare pass through. Not at first.”

“But eventually you did.”

Jessie wiped a tear from her eye. “Eventually I did. I couldn’t stand it anymore. It was so hard, and I had so long to wait. Finally, in the middle of the night, I did it. I stole through the passageway and into Heaven. And here I’ve been, ever since.”

“And no one seemed surprised by the arrival of a new angel in Heaven?”

“No one,” she replied, her voice still quavering. “I created a whole new identity for myself as the angel Jessie, and no one here even batted an eyelid. But that’s the way it is in Heaven. People don’t question you. They respect you for who you are. Except for Sally. She was the only one who was suspicious, until you came along.”

Jessie paused for a moment and took a deep breath. “So, now you’ve discovered my secret. I guess this is the end for me.” As she finished, she hid her head in her hands. Her whole body was wracked with sobs.

“Just a minute,” I said. “What makes you think this is the end for you?”

Jessie raised her head and looked at me. Her eyes glowed like porcelain marbles in the darkness. “Isn’t that what your case was about? To find me and send me back to Hell? Are you working for God, or just for Sally?”

“What sort of detective do you think I am, Angel?”

She blinked in surprise. “Please don’t call me Angel.”

“Why shouldn’t I call you Angel?”

“You know why. Because I’m not—”

“But I like calling you Angel.” She didn’t answer. I figured she liked me calling her Angel too.

“Now listen to me,” I said. “First of all, I never told you that I actually was on a case.”

“But you said—”

“No I didn’t. I said that maybe I was here for a particular reason, but I never told you what that reason was. Secondly, even if I was working on a case, that doesn’t mean it has anything to do with you. And thirdly, even if that case did involve you, I have no intention of having you shipped back to the fiery pit. Now you’ve told me your secret, and that’s fine with me. I was holding out my hat for some honesty. What you threw in was a lot heavier than I expected, but my neck is pretty strong. When I put my hat back on my head, nothing is going to fall out. What’s in there stays there.”

“Do you mean that?” said Jessie. “You won’t tell anyone.”

I grinned at her—a big toothy grin, so she could see it. “You’ve been honest with me, so I guess I should return the favour. As it happens, I am working on a case. I can’t disclose the exact nature of this case, but I can assure you it has nothing to do with investigating imposter angels. And I’m definitely not working for Sally. My instructions come directly from God Himself, though as far as I’m concerned, I see no need to report back to Him details that I do not deem relevant to the case.”

Jessie slid across the bed and nestled against me. She placed her head down on the pillow and lay, breathing softly. After a while, she spoke.

“The last time I saw you, I offered you my assistance. I’d like to now quadruple that offer.”

“Quite frankly, Angel, I think the best thing you can do is stay well away. But I’ve still got a couple of questions to ask you. Firstly, I don’t get Heaven. There’s barely anything to do, the food is mediocre, and, with the exception of a certain house upon the hill, the accommodation is nothing to write home about. I just don’t see why this place is so special.”

“It is special,” said Jessie, “but maybe you can’t understand why until you’ve seen the alternative.”

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s time I saw the alternative.”

Jessie jerked upright like a supercoiled spring. “I don’t want you going down there.”

“But Angel, I have to.”

“Can’t you just stay here with me?”

“I’ve still got a job to do. I have to find out about the man I saw at Sally’s.”

“Please don’t go,” she begged. “You don’t know what it’s like down there. You have no idea how truly frightful it is.”

“Which is why I need to find out. Look, I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”

“And afterwards you’ll come back up? Back to me?”

“I promise.” The words had escaped from my mouth before my brain had even started processing her request. Now that they were out, there was no chance I could take them back. Even in the darkness, I could see the dreamy look on her face as she lay back on the pillow. The damage was done. I would just have to deal with the consequences when I got back. If I got back.

“One more thing,” I said. “The glowing trick. If you’re not really an angel, how do you do that?”

“Pick up my robe and see.”

I reached down and picked up the robe. Straight away, I realised why it felt so heavy. The insides were lined with a network of tiny wires and globes. Jessie reached over and flicked a switch inside the sleeve, and suddenly the room was bathed in light.

I placed the robe back on the floor and began to laugh. She joined me, and for ages we lay on the bed, howling like a couple of demented chimps. Finally, she rolled over, into my arms, and there she spent the rest of the night.

She was no angel. I was glad.

Chapter 9

EARLY IN THE MORNING, while Jessie slept, I quietly dressed and stole out of the building. I wanted to take a look at Raphael’s place in the still of morning, before the crowds began to gather.

Even by Heaven’s standards, Raphael’s cottage was small. It looked less like a real dwelling and more like a child’s dollhouse, blown up to almost but not quite full size. Out front, a rickety-looking barrier had been inexpertly set up, with a sign saying Crime Scene – Do Not Enter. I tapped on the barrier, and it promptly collapsed at my feet. With any impediment to my progress effectively dismantled, I walked down the little path, opened the door, and entered Raphael’s home.

The place was a shambles. If the nature of Phil’s disappearance remained frustratingly opaque, there could be no doubting that Raphael had been taken against his will. Tables and chairs had been overturned. Pieces of paper and bits of broken ornaments were strewn all over the floor. I was impressed. It looked like the little guy had put up quite a struggle.

I took a closer look to see if anything lying around the place could shed any light on the identity of the intruders. The papers on the floor weren’t much help. They seemed to be either donation forms for the various charitable organisations Raphael ran, or sheet music specially annotated for a harp orchestra. As for the shattered pieces of ornaments, those were the remnants of commemorative plates and porcelain sculptures that only the finest mail order firms would have the gall to perpetrate on the public. They revealed plenty about the victim of this crime but very little about those who had committed it, except that perhaps they possessed a modicum of taste.

I checked out the other rooms and quickly discovered that the struggle had been confined to the front room. The rest of the house seemed to be completely untouched. However, it was what greeted me in the bathroom that really caught my eye.

A series of large green mounds were stacked against the wall—garbage bags, all filled to the brim. I untied the tag of the nearest one and took a look inside. It was packed solid with rubbish of all descriptions: food wrappers, advertising flyers, old newspapers, and electrical junk. I checked a couple of the other bags and found that they too were tightly crammed with waste materials. I counted the number of bags in the room. There were fifteen in all, each one heaving and bulging with refuse. It was no wonder Heaven was so clean. Raphael was a one-man waste disposal system.

From outside the front door, I could hear voices I had no trouble recognising. It was the soft, caring tones of my friends Lizard Neck and Frying Pan. As their heavy footsteps thudded into the front room, I was already out the back door, over the fence, and away.

I hurried back to the office. On the way, I passed the school crossing where I had spoken to Raphael two days previously, and there a bizarre sight caught my eye. Despite the complete absence of any traffic, a large group of children was huddled on the side of the road, waiting for a crossing guard to help them across. It looked like school was going to be out in Heaven today.

* * *

By the time I got back, Jessie was in the kitchen making breakfast. I sat down at the table and she placed a plate of pancakes and a cup of steaming coffee in front of me. As we ate, we chatted about nothing in particular. Afterwards, we both stood up.

She said, “I guess I’d better be going.”

I said, “Angel’s work is never done?”

She sighed. “There’s no rest for the wicked, but I don’t like to consider the alternative.” Then she switched on her lights and walked out the door.

I sat down at my desk and mulled over the current state of affairs. I now had two missing people, far too many suspects with far too many motives, and no real evidence of any kind. I’d clearly reached a dead end. Heaven might have more secrets, but it wasn’t about to spit them out. If I wanted to move the case forward, there was another place I needed to visit. But after what Jessie had told me last night, I wasn’t sure I wanted to think about what I would find when I got there.

Luckily, I was able to put off such forebodings for the moment, because at that precise instant the phone decided to ring. I picked it up and immediately heard a voice with clear tones, precise diction, and a complete lack of interest in talking to me. It was God’s servant, Gabriel.

“The Master would like to see you immediately.”

“I’m on my way,” I said. “Any idea what this might be about?”

“I’m afraid not. But I don’t think He’s very happy.”

I polished off a quick glass of bourbon before hurrying over to God’s palace. The prospect of facing an angry God was not one that filled me with gleeful anticipation. Still, I did see one positive that could come out of this meeting. I hadn’t had a smoke since I arrived in Heaven. This time, I wasn’t going to turn down God’s offer.

Gabriel ushered me into the palace and led me through the packed waiting room. Within God’s chamber, the television was blaring and God was sitting on the couch, utterly enthralled.

Gabriel cleared his throat. “Mr Clarenden to see you,” he said. Then he exited, not quite able to hide the smirk on his face.

God flicked the television off and slowly turned towards me. His face was red and His lips were tightly pursed.

“Jimmy Clarenden,” He rasped. “You have some explaining to do.”

“What exactly do you need me to explain?” I wasn’t exactly quaking in my boots, but only because I wasn’t wearing boots.

“Do you recall what I said to you when you first arrived in Heaven?”

“You said a number of things to me when I first arrived in Heaven. Which one in particular do you wish me to recall?”

“I told you that the peace of Heaven must be preserved. I gave you specific instructions that you were not to cause trouble of any kind.”

“Instructions I have taken great pains to follow.”

“Not great enough. Since your arrival, I have had no end of complaints about your behaviour. Attempts to break into the house of one of my angels. Run-ins with the police, from which I have had to bail you out personally. And now I find that another of my angels has disappeared. Can you give me one good reason why I shouldn’t have you taken off the case immediately?” As God spoke, His eyes glittered ferociously from under His bushy eyebrows.

I took a deep breath before I replied.

“Listen to me, God,” I said. “First of all, in regard to Raphael’s disappearance, I have no idea who is responsible and I don’t see how that even concerns me. Secondly, in regard to the other disturbances, you’ve hired me to do a job. In the course of trying to do that job, there is a good chance I’m going to uncover some things that were better left covered, and put some noses out of joint. I’m not apologising for that. If you want me to be able to do my job properly, you’re going to have to accept that, and then step back and let me operate the way I see fit. It’s your call. Do you want to see your son again or not?”

“I really need a cigarette,” God muttered. I watched expectantly as He reached towards His pocket. But suddenly, He withdrew His hand again.

“No,” He said firmly. He sat up very straight, pulling His shoulders back. “I will not give in to temptation. As of today, I’m giving up the demon weed for good.”

“That’s very noble of you,” I said flatly.

“Probably why I’m in such a foul mood.” He tried to assume a comfortable pose, but ended up looking as relaxed as an air traffic controller after six cups of coffee. “I suppose you’re right. I’m sorry for yelling at you. It’s just that the stress has been starting to get to me. And Sally’s been getting to me too.”

“Seems like you’ve been handing out too many treats to Sally, and now she’s got a sweet tooth that won’t go away.”

God sighed. “Don’t think I don’t know it. I’ve heard all the things people are saying. It’s just that sometimes I find it hard to say no. I’m not proud of it, but I’ve always had a soft spot for blondes.”

“I know what you mean,” I said. “I like to think I’m as hard as the reinforced hull of a supertanker, but show me a honey-blonde mane and a red-lipped smile and I’m sunk. But now, while I’m still afloat, I’d like to return to the subject of Raphael’s disappearance. Can you imagine why anyone would want to kidnap him?”

“I’ve got absolutely no idea. Everyone loved Raphael.”

“I wouldn’t have expected sarcasm from you.”

“Well, what would you have expected?” God said abruptly. “Nobody liked Raphael much, including me. He was annoying. Save the birds, save the trees, save the poor from the whales. Someone please save me from Raphael.”

“What happened to the God of charity I was always told about?”

“Listen to me,” said God, folding His arms like a stubborn child. “Do you like it when people come around hassling you for donations?”

“Not particularly.”

“So why should I? After all, I made you in my image. Doesn’t it make sense that if you don’t like something, I probably won’t like it much either?”

“I never thought of it like that,” I said. Put that way, it made complete sense. Put that way, a lot of things made complete sense.

“Okay,” I said. “Notwithstanding the fact that almost anyone in Heaven could have had a motive for kidnapping Raphael, can you think of any way his disappearance might be connected to Phil’s? Remember that Phil disappeared while he was on his way to see Raphael.”

“I couldn’t say if there’s a connection. Phil was a lot more tolerant of Raphael than just about anyone else in Heaven, but I definitely wouldn’t have called them friends.”

I chewed over God’s response for a second. Then I spoke again.

“You couldn’t say if there’s a connection. Does that mean there isn’t a connection, or there is one but you’re not willing to tell me what it is?”

God turned to me and exploded.

“What do you mean by that?” He thundered.

“I think you can probably figure it out for yourself.”

“Who do you think you are, talking to me like that? Are you implying that I’m holding back information? Do you really think that if there was something I could tell you that might help bring back my son, I wouldn’t?”

The feeling of violence in the room was palpable. I realised I’d better settle things down again quickly. There was no telling what God was capable of if He really got angry.

“I’m not implying anything,” I said softly. “It’s just that you’ve told me so little, and I assumed that because you are who you are, you must know a lot more than that.”

“Oh, I understand,” said God, His voice still dripping with sarcasm. “You don’t actually want to solve this case yourself. You’d much rather have me tell you everything you need to know. What do you expect? Do you think I know everything?”

“Actually, I thought you did.”

This stopped God in His tracks for a moment. Presently, He replied.

“You’re right. I do know everything.” Then He shrugged His shoulders. “It isn’t all it’s made out to be.”

“It sounds pretty handy from where I’m standing.”

“The great problem with knowing everything,” said God, “is that the vast majority of things are really not worth knowing. After a while, you end up with so much junk spinning around inside your head, it becomes practically impossible to determine which bits are actually important. Most of the time, I just end up confusing myself.”

“So there definitely isn’t anything else you can tell me?”

“I don’t know. Maybe there is. Maybe there isn’t. I can’t tell anymore. Everything’s become so complicated. Take art for instance. I created that. Was damn pleased with myself at the time. In fact, I’d have to say that of all the things I created, art was definitely one of my favourites. But look at it now. There’s all this modern art, and post-structuralism, and . . . Well I can’t keep up with all the words they use these days. I haven’t got a clue what any of it means anymore.”

God sat back on the couch. He seemed to be struggling to collect His thoughts, which wasn’t surprising given how many of them there were. After a minute or so, He stirred again.

“Still,” He said, “at least I’ve got television. That’s one thing I’ll always understand.” He raised His remote control and the screen before Him flashed back to life.

I stood in the middle of the room, watching that luminescent box. The program was one of those funniest video shows, the sort that seemed to regard children falling from high places and suffering grievous bodily harm as innately hilarious. And at least one person in the room agreed with that assessment. Within a minute, God was cackling like a hyena in a bed of feather dusters. As for myself, I found it about as funny as a heart bypass.

After about a minute of pranks, pratfalls, and semi-serious injuries, I realised God had switched off for the day. I turned tail and departed from His chamber. He didn’t acknowledge me as I departed. He probably didn’t even realise I had gone.

As Gabriel escorted me from the palace, I was certain there was something God wasn’t telling me. Actually, there were an infinite number of things He wasn’t telling me, but hidden amongst them was something important. Something without which I would never find Phil.