Calling the Shots (5 page)

Rose said they’d have to go into town to buy clothes for the funeral and Honesty snapped, “You can dress like a Sicilian widow if you want to. It’s not like Papa’s going to care. When you’re dead you’re dead.”

It was like she’d had a total personality change. She was hardly recognisable as the sweet goofy girl who hugged her mum, yelled at her baby brother and flaunted her big knickers dancing the Charleston.

And there was another thing. When I first met Honesty, her thoughts were so easy to read that she could have been yelling through a megaphone. But suddenly she was putting out
no
thought waves whatsoever.

Lenny came home for the funeral and everyone else rushed to the door to meet him. They cried and hugged each other and generally behaved like human beings.

Honesty didn’t even bother to come downstairs.

When the family met up for the evening meal, Lenny tried to put his arms around her, but she pulled away. “People die every day, you know,” she said coldly. “You don’t have to make a big production out of it.”

That night I took my mobile out of my flight bag. I got as far as punching in the GA code. Then I thought,
I’ll give it until after the funeral. Then she’ll start to grieve properly and she’ll be really sad but basically OK.

Honesty’s dad must have been well respected in Philadelphia, because hundreds of people came to the funeral. I was surprised not to see members of their families, like cousins or grandparents. It was more business associates with their wives.

Grace kept glancing anxiously round the church as if someone important was missing.

I heard Lenny whisper, “Probably he’s sick.”

“Then why didn’t he call?” Grace whispered back. “He didn’t even send flowers. He’s meant to be his best friend for heaven’s sake.”

Honesty had this annoying nervous smirk on her face.

Finally Rose couldn’t stand it. “What’s so funny?” she asked.

Honesty shrugged. “I was wondering what Papa would make of being inside a church.”

Rose hissed, “You know Papa didn’t care about all that stuff.”

Honesty gave her a poisonous look. “I don’t know any such thing actually, Rose Bloomfield. Papa’s ancestors must be turning in their graves.”

She made it sound as if her father was a vampire or something. Funeral or no funeral, this girl is getting too weird, I thought uneasily.

After the funeral, Grace invited all the mourners back to the house. Everyone stood around the front parlour, making agonising small talk.

I noticed Grace was still watching the door. I heard her ask Lenny, “Did you try Jack Coltraine’s number again?”

He nodded. “There’s still no reply.”

This news seemed to worry Grace. “I’d appreciate it if you could just keep trying, will you?”

“Of course, Mama,” he said.

Jack Coltraine never did pick up the phone.

That’s because he had taken off for Havana with all Honesty’s father’s money. Next day, the family lawyer confirmed Grace’s worst suspicions. Jack had been creaming off the business profits, stashing them in safety deposit boxes in his wife’s name. In a matter of days, the Bloomfields’ lives had totally turned upside down.

They’d lost everything, including their home. All Grace stood to inherit now was her husband’s debts.

That night Lenny came into the girls’ room and I heard him and Rose talking. Honesty stayed huddled silently under her covers, giving off such minimal vibes, I doubt they even remembered she was there.

I was shocked to hear Lenny say, “I’ll really miss Papa, but in a weird way I feel like I’ve been set free. Being a doctor was his dream, not mine.”

“So what’s your dream, Len?” Rose’s voice was snuffly from crying.

“Don’t laugh,” he said awkwardly. “I want to be a stuntman. I met this actor on the train. He said there are great opportunities in the film industry for young guys like me, who aren’t afraid to take risks.”

Rose was disgusted. “You’ve had this expensive education and you want to throw it all away just so you can fall off horses and get brain damage! Have you any idea how lucky you are to be a boy? I’d do anything to go to college. But I’m a girl, so everyone assumes I’ll just marry a nice lawyer. Aargh!”

“You won’t have to get married for years yet. I’m sure Papa would want you girls to finish your education.”

Rose gave him a bleak smile. “Where’s the money coming from?”

Lenny sounded unsure of himself suddenly. “Mama can ask her family for help. They own a plantation for heaven’s sake. They must have loads of dough.”

Rose shook her head. “Mama’s family is a taboo subject. Remember how she used to clam up when we asked about them?”

“I know, but if she’s desperate.” But Lenny’s voice trailed off.

Next day, to their amazement, Grace brought the subject up herself.

“I have reached a very difficult decision. I have been lying awake, racking my brains, and I simply
cannot
see any alternative. I have a little jewellery, enough to buy train tickets with some over for emergencies.”

“Mama,” said Rose. “What are you saying?”

Grace seemed to be talking to herself. “I was so young when I left home. People can change. Whatever happened, you’re still his flesh and blood. I’m sure that when your grandaddy actually sees you, he’ll want to help. We’ll pack a few necessities, and the lawyers can see to the rest.”

I noticed Honesty slip out of the room while her mother was still talking. I hurried after her and found her in her bedroom removing her diaries from the drawer.

As I watched, bewildered, she tore all the pages out of the notebooks, stuffed them into the tiny fireplace and dropped a lighted match into the grate. When her diaries were reduced to a heap of curling black ash, Honesty lifted down a suitcase from the top of the wardrobe and started to pack.

She folded bloomers, chemises, blouses and pinafores; put them into her case and carefully fastened both catches. Then she put on her horrible coat and hat, seated herself on a hard wooden chair and remained there, staring into space, until the taxi came and the Bloomfields left their home for ever.

I left with them, so I can tell you that Honesty didn’t once look back. She just stared straight ahead, humming tunelessly. I knew then that this was going to be the toughest assignment of my angelic career.

Chapter Five

I
n Honesty’s day, a first-class train carriage looked exactly like your great granny’s front parlour, even down to the tablecloth with fancy fringes. They might look cute in movies, but in reality they ponged of dust and coal fumes and men’s cigars, not to mention human sweat. People weren’t too big on personal hygiene back then.

After he’d stashed everyone’s luggage, Lenny escaped out into the corridor. He pulled down the window and watched the Philadelphia skyline disappearing into the distance.

Grace had brought a pack of cards and started to build a house for Clem. Rose was curled up in a corner seat, reading as usual. Honesty stared at her fingernails for a few minutes then she muttered, “I’m going to get a soda.”

I hurried after her along the swaying corridor. The soda just turned out to be an excuse because Honesty walked right through the dining car and out the other side. These carriages were crowded with tired men and women, all sitting on hard benches instead of comfortable plushy upholstery, and there were ratty cardboard suitcases on the luggage racks instead of leather.

My skin was starting to prickle like crazy. This is usually a sign that there are other angels in the vicinity.

Sure enough, two carriages down, I spotted a giveaway cosmic glow where an earth angel was sitting calmly amongst the paying passengers. She wore a shabby Twenties coat and a cute little cloche hat trimmed with a faded silk rose. I felt so proud of my profession, I can’t tell you. The humans had no idea they were sharing their railway carriage with an invisible celestial agent, but from their peaceful expressions I could tell they were responding to her angelic vibes.

The angel and I gave each other a brief wave, one agent to another. Then I hurtled breathlessly after Honesty.

Our train shook and juddered as another train roared past. There was a flash of fire, and I glimpsed the driver furiously stoking the boiler. Steam billowed past the windows, like special FX on pop videos.

I heard snatches of talk from the passengers. An old man was complaining, “You know the thing about America? Everyone is always rushing someplace else.” And I heard a salesman boast, “Nowadays it’s not enough to sell sausages. You got to sell the sizzle too!”

In the last carriage, a group of tough-looking hoodlums in slouch hats were playing cards. Honesty stood watching until one of them noticed her and said humorously, “Beat it, kid. Didn’t your mama tell you gambling is wrong?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m just watching. Anyway, what my mama doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

He laughed. “Step inside, sister.”

And to my dismay she joined them. I felt sure that he old Honesty would never have behaved like this. Occasionally, the guys passed around a brown paper bag, and took swigs from the bottle concealed inside. They jokingly offered it to Honesty, but she said scornfully, “Haven’t you heard? That stuff is illegal.”

“I was just going to send Lenny to look for you. What took you so long?” Grace asked her when we eventually returned.

“I was talking to some interesting people for a change,” Honesty said rudely. “You don’t think I’m going to stay cooped up in here all the way to Georgia, do you?”

After lunch, Honesty went to sleep and I watched the vast landscape flow past. Occasionally a shabby little railroad town flew by. Ragged kids waved from the fields. Obviously our train was the big event of their day.

Then, for no apparent reason the train began to slow down and eventually came to a standstill.

At first, I thought we’d stopped beside some kind of massive garbage dump. Then I saw it was a little hobo town, a settlement of tumbledown shacks and improvised tents that had grown up beside the tracks.

A couple of guys were having an argument. An older guy was slumped by a camp fire with his head in his hands. I could see his toes sticking through the broken ends of his boots. Dirty little kids ran around half naked, despite the cold. One of them was still just a baby. A woman was stirring a pot over the fire. She was so painfully thin that her shabby dress hung off her like a sack.

Feelings of despair and desolation welled up inside me. The kind that make you go, “Why bother? This life is just too hard.”

I’m an angel, though, so I soon sussed that these weren’t my personal feelings. They weren’t anyone’s personal feelings, in fact. Originally they were probably an evil freebie from the PODS. Now these deadly PODS vibes hung over the makeshift settlement like fog, and the wretched inhabitants had no choice but to inhale and exhale them with every breath. The PODS have some sick strategies for making humans do their work for them.

The baby toddled up to the woman and pulled at her skirts. The train gave its mournful wail and she picked up the baby and turned to gaze at us as we moved off, as if all her hopes and dreams were leaving on our train.

As the train gathered speed, I did something I should have done days ago. I got out my Agency mobile and called up the GA helpline.

I couldn’t help smiling as I waited for someone to pick up. It would be so cool to say, “Hi, it’s me, I’m on a train!” Then I heard the helpline worker’s voice and went hot to the roots of my hair.

“Finally!” said Orlando. “We’ve been expecting you to call for days.”

Did it have to be him? I thought. Couldn’t I just
once
talk to Orlando when everything was going well?

Then I reminded myself that I was a bona fide celestial trouble-shooter, and efficiently updated Orlando on everything that had happened.

“I sit up all night, beaming her vibes,” I finished up. “But nothing seems to get through. She’s totally shut herself off from the rest of her family.” I swallowed. “I’m scared she’s going to do something stupid.”

“You think she’s a suicide risk?” he asked.

I felt a stab of worry. “I don’t think she’d deliberately—”

Rose dropped her book with a crash. People were running out into the corridor. I looked to see what had got everyone so excited and gave an unprofessional shriek. “Yikes! I’ve got to go!”

Thundering down a hillside towards us were hordes of Indian braves!

As I reached the corridor a mob of cowboys came galloping out from behind the trees and started having a major shoot-out. Horses plunged and reared in terror, and cowboys and Indians fell sprawling in horrifically gruesome positions.

This is terrible!
I thought.
People are killing each other, and I’m the only angel in the area. I must do something!

Then an old truck came in sight with an old-fashioned movie camera on the top and I went limp with relief.

A tubby little man got out of the truck. He started bellowing through a megaphone and suddenly the whole scene rewound itself. All the dead horses, cowboys and Indians miraculously came back to life and went scrambling back to their original positions, and the truck reversed madly out of the shot.