for the better in ways he can’t even begin to imagine . . . hello? Yes, Gabriel, I’m still here . . . yes, that’s lovely. Fine, well, let’s hope that does the trick, and I’ll call you again shortly with an update. Copy that. Over and out.’
Copy that, over and out? I think. I’m half-wondering if I’ve wandered on to the set of a cop show when smiley lady stretches out her hand to introduce herself.
‘Regina Angelorum is my full title, but everyone around here just calls me Regina,’ she says warmly, whipping off the pink glasses, which manages to make her look slightly less marshmallow-like.
‘Lovely to meet you, I’m Charlotte Grey . . .’
‘Oh, yes, we know all about you, love. In fact I’ve a full dossier here somewhere on you,’ she says, waving vaguely at the big mound of files on the desk in front of her. ‘Now, wait till I see, where did I put it? Oh yes, here we go. Be a good girl and fill in that for me, will you?’ she says, passing me over a biro and a very official-looking form.
‘Car crash, wasn’t it, love?’ she asks sympathetically, and I nod. ‘Don’t bother with page one, we have all that information already. Just fill out page three and that’ll be grand. Oh, if you only knew the amount of road fatalities I’ve seen in my time, and do you know it’s getting worse every single year? I’m hoarse saying it . . .’
Regina chatters on to Dad about speed-limits and the general uselessness of penalty points and drink-driving laws while I wade my way through the paperwork trying to find page three. God Almighty, it’s like applying for a passport. The form is headed AWE and it’s only when I look closely that I see what that stands for.
Angelic Work Experience.
OK, now I’m starting to feel like I’m stuck in a Harry Potter movie, and am almost half-expecting to see flying owls and kids playing Quidditch fluttering past the window any minute.
‘Excuse me, emmmm . . . Regina?’ I interrupt her in full flow about road-death statistics. ‘Am I seeing things? Or does this really, honestly say angelic work experience? Like . . . for real?’
‘Ye-eeeeessssss, dear.’ She smiles, looking at me as much as to say, ‘What the hell else did you expect?’
‘So, I’m going to be . . . like . . . an angel?’
‘Just fill out question three, paragraph two, dear and we’ll see how you get on.’
I flick ahead to the right page, my hands trembling, half with excitement and half with total disbelief. No, I definitely am not seeing things. There it is in bold type.
Q3. TAKE TIME TO OUTLINE, IN YOUR OWN WORDS, YOUR REASONS FOR WISHING TO PARTAKE IN THE AWE PROGRAMME. ANY UNFINISHED EARTHLY BUSINESS SHOULD BE CLEARLY SUMMARIZED BELOW.
Oh my God, this is unreal. If I wasn’t actually sitting here, I’d never believe it in a sugar rush. Here I am, about to become a bona fide actual angel. Me, that made such an almighty mess of my time on earth, and now look at me! Suddenly, I think about Mum, Kate and Fiona. What they must be going through. But then I think of how much more I can do for them from where I am now. I mean, I’m sure I’ll get to look in on them and work all sorts of miracles for them all. ’Cos everyone knows angels have, like . . . powers, don’t they?
Ooh, I just thought of something. Bet I could help Kate to get pregnant. And Fiona to get her face out of that computer, start spending time among the three-dimensional people and then maybe find a gorgeous man who’ll treat her like a queen. I’ll help her to make her life work. The way that mine didn’t. And I could get Mum through that list of hers, although how I’ll arrange for her to meet George Clooney is another thing. Then there’s all the actors at the agency. Bet I could make all kinds of fabulous things happen for them, too. Apart from Miss Helium Voice, that is. But otherwise I’ll be a perfect model of angelic behaviour.
I will completely reinvent myself, just like Madonna. Or
Copy that, over and out? I think. I’m half-wondering if I’ve wandered on to the set of a cop show when smiley lady stretches out her hand to introduce herself.
‘Regina Angelorum is my full title, but everyone around here just calls me Regina,’ she says warmly, whipping off the pink glasses, which manages to make her look slightly less marshmallow-like.
‘Lovely to meet you, I’m Charlotte Grey . . .’
‘Oh, yes, we know all about you, love. In fact I’ve a full dossier here somewhere on you,’ she says, waving vaguely at the big mound of files on the desk in front of her. ‘Now, wait till I see, where did I put it? Oh yes, here we go. Be a good girl and fill in that for me, will you?’ she says, passing me over a biro and a very official-looking form.
‘Car crash, wasn’t it, love?’ she asks sympathetically, and I nod. ‘Don’t bother with page one, we have all that information already. Just fill out page three and that’ll be grand. Oh, if you only knew the amount of road fatalities I’ve seen in my time, and do you know it’s getting worse every single year? I’m hoarse saying it . . .’
Regina chatters on to Dad about speed-limits and the general uselessness of penalty points and drink-driving laws while I wade my way through the paperwork trying to find page three. God Almighty, it’s like applying for a passport. The form is headed AWE and it’s only when I look closely that I see what that stands for.
Angelic Work Experience.
OK, now I’m starting to feel like I’m stuck in a Harry Potter movie, and am almost half-expecting to see flying owls and kids playing Quidditch fluttering past the window any minute.
‘Excuse me, emmmm . . . Regina?’ I interrupt her in full flow about road-death statistics. ‘Am I seeing things? Or does this really, honestly say angelic work experience? Like . . . for real?’
‘Ye-eeeeessssss, dear.’ She smiles, looking at me as much as to say, ‘What the hell else did you expect?’
‘So, I’m going to be . . . like . . . an angel?’
‘Just fill out question three, paragraph two, dear and we’ll see how you get on.’
I flick ahead to the right page, my hands trembling, half with excitement and half with total disbelief. No, I definitely am not seeing things. There it is in bold type.
Q3. TAKE TIME TO OUTLINE, IN YOUR OWN WORDS, YOUR REASONS FOR WISHING TO PARTAKE IN THE AWE PROGRAMME. ANY UNFINISHED EARTHLY BUSINESS SHOULD BE CLEARLY SUMMARIZED BELOW.
Oh my God, this is unreal. If I wasn’t actually sitting here, I’d never believe it in a sugar rush. Here I am, about to become a bona fide actual angel. Me, that made such an almighty mess of my time on earth, and now look at me! Suddenly, I think about Mum, Kate and Fiona. What they must be going through. But then I think of how much more I can do for them from where I am now. I mean, I’m sure I’ll get to look in on them and work all sorts of miracles for them all. ’Cos everyone knows angels have, like . . . powers, don’t they?
Ooh, I just thought of something. Bet I could help Kate to get pregnant. And Fiona to get her face out of that computer, start spending time among the three-dimensional people and then maybe find a gorgeous man who’ll treat her like a queen. I’ll help her to make her life work. The way that mine didn’t. And I could get Mum through that list of hers, although how I’ll arrange for her to meet George Clooney is another thing. Then there’s all the actors at the agency. Bet I could make all kinds of fabulous things happen for them, too. Apart from Miss Helium Voice, that is. But otherwise I’ll be a perfect model of angelic behaviour.
I will completely reinvent myself, just like Madonna. Or
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