You Don't Have To Be Evil To Work Here, But It Helps (23 page)

‘That’s where Oscar comes in.’

‘Grossly oversimplifying, yes. Sort of. Anyway, so it goes on, und that’s basic reincarnation for you. But just occasionally, you get unfinished business; that’s usually where you had something really important going on in your life and for some reason it hasn’t been sorted out when you die. In which case, it carries over into the next one.’ She paused, searching for the right simile. ‘It’s like when you’re a kid and you won’t eat up your greens, so they’re served up at you for every meal until you do eat them. Right?’

Colin shrugged.

‘Anyhow,’ Cassie continued, ‘that must be what’s happening to us. According to Funkhausen, anyhow. You see, we’ve got all these lives where the two of us come together, and then for no apparent reason it all screws up, so the cold greens get carried forward to breakfast, if you see what I mean. And until we finally get our act together—’

‘Hold on,’ Colin protested. ‘Are you suggesting that we should—? And all because some people in the Middle Ages got their wires crossed? That’s sick.’

He could sense that Cassie’s patience was running out faster than the North Sea oil reserves, but he didn’t particularly care. ‘I’m not suggesting anything,’ she said, ‘I’m just explaining. You wanted me to.’

‘All right, fine.’ He shook his head. ‘But now we know what’s going on, we can just ignore it, surely. I mean—’ He paused, as huge surges of embarrassment swept through him like flood water. ‘I mean,’ he said, ‘now we know we don’t, like, fancy each other, and it’s just this sort of hangover from a bunch of dead people. Surely if we just stay out of each other’s way from now on, it’ll solve itself.’

Cassie bit her lip. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Depends on whether us meeting each other like this was just coincidence and bad luck, or whether the forces acting on us dragged us together in this life same as they seem to have been doing for generations. If it’s the second one, I don’t think it’s going to be as easy as just making an effort to avoid each other.’

That sounded ominous. ‘You mean there’s someone doing this to us?’

‘No, not the way you make it sound. It’s more impersonal than that. More like magnetism or gravity. If it really is the second one, our lives will pan out so that we keep running into each other and getting involved, whether we like it or not.’

‘If it’s the second one.’

‘Yes.’

‘But you don’t know.’

Cassie sighed. ‘It’s not really my field of expertise,’ she said. Actually, it’s a pretty obscure branch of the profession, partly because it’s difficult and vague, mostly because there’s not enough money in it to make it worthwhile doing the research. In fact, I can only think of one specialist in this sort of stuff, and that’s Professor Van Spee of Leiden.’

‘So can you ask him?’

‘He’s dead.’ She shook her head. ‘He did publish several articles about it in one of the journals, I could look them up and see if there’s anything helpful. Otherwise—’ She pulled a sad face. ‘I don’t think any of the people working at our place would know very much about it.’

‘Oh.’ Colin felt for a moment as though he was swimming through lumpy gravy; he didn’t really understand, or believe, but neither could he simply dismiss what she’d been saying as drivel and put it out of his mind. He’d seen too much: trees, Oscar, his own grave, that sort of thing. Then a small but vital point occurred to him, and its advent was like a flood of harsh white light: that, in the context of all the other shit that was circling over his head like a flock of vultures, it really wasn’t that big a deal. If the weird symptoms they apparently shared were bugging the hell out of Ms Clay, naturally he felt for her but not to the extent that he was prepared to do anything about it. As for himself, he had other worries. ‘Oh well,’ he said. ‘I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. Meanwhile,’ he added, and his voice took on an edge that surprised him, ‘perhaps you’d like to tell me how we’re going to get my Dad out of this bloody horrible mess that your stupid firm’s got him into. Or had you forgotten about that?’

Cassie looked at him. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘But I don’t see there’s anything I can do about it. I mean, he knew what he was doing.’

‘How can you say that?’ Colin exploded. ‘He’s just sold his soul—’

‘Yes, all right.’ Just a bit shrill there, he noticed. ‘But I explained it to him. We’re obliged to do that, under the Code of Practice.’

That one hit Colin squarely between the eyes. ‘There’s a Code of Practice?’

‘Oh yes.’ Cassie nodded vigorously. ‘Like in financial services and stuff. It’s even got its own British Standard, and a Kitemark. That’s where JWW comes in, mostly. It’s our job to explain the terms and conditions to the consumer. And then we certify that we’ve done it, and that complies with the Code of Practice. So you can see, surely, that there’s not a lot I could have done. I’m sorry,’ she added, and Colin got the impression that maybe she was, a little bit. That, however, was cold comfort.

‘Well, sod that,’ he said. ‘All right, so he’s made the contract. How do you go about cancelling it?’

‘You can’t,’ she said. ‘I mean, not without the purchaser’s agreement. And really, I don’t see them going along with it. I mean, why should they?’

Colin took a deep breath ‘What if,’ he said, ‘I let them have me instead?’

That surprised her all right. ‘What?’

‘What if I took his place?’ Colin paused to listen to what he’d just said. He couldn’t remember having taken the decision to say it; it came out because it had to, because he had no choice. His father, after all. ‘Look at it from their point of view,’ he went on. ‘I mean, Dad - well, he’s no angel, right? In fact, he’s been a right bastard ever since I can remember. I don’t think he’s ever actually killed anybody or stuff like that; but he said it himself, if there really is an afterlife and a Very Bad Place where you go if you’ve been a scumbag, then it’s a pretty safe bet that that’s where he’s been heading all along. In which case,’ he went on, ‘from their point of view it’s a very bad deal. What I mean is, they’re buying something they’d have got for free in thirty years or so. But if they cancel the deal and take me instead—’ He shrugged his shoulders hopelessly. ‘Not that I’m a saint or anything, but the sort of life I’ve led, I never even had the opportunities to do anything evil or bad. I must be a much better bargain, surely.’

Cassie was looking at him. ‘Are you serious?’ she said. ‘Come on, use your brain. By your own admission, no offence, but sooner or later, one way or the other, your father’s going to end up-So really,’ she went on, ‘if we’re going to be absolutely brutal about it, he’ll be no worse off. But if you get them to take you instead - I mean, it’d be pointless. And you saw - well, Oscar. Do you really want to spend all eternity with the likes of—?’

‘No, of course not,’ Colin shouted. ‘But he’s my Dad, for crying out loud. It’s like saying, why bother to save someone from drowning, because we’re all going to die eventually anyway?’

She frowned. ‘Well, no, actually, because for a start—’

‘Quiet.’ He hadn’t meant to snap at Cassie but he was getting uť the point where it really didn’t matter. ‘I don’t actually want your opinion, thanks all the same, just some professional advice. You can invoice me if you want.’

‘Go on.’

‘All I want to know is,’ he said, in a flat voice, ‘can you go back and put it to them, see if they’d be interested? And if so, make the necessary arrangements, paperwork and stuff. That’s all. Will you do that?’

It was quite a long time, relatively speaking, before Cassie answered. ‘Yes,’ she said.

‘Thank you.’

‘Provided—’ She was looking at him again. ‘Provided you’ll help me with this other thing. The reincarnation stuff.’

‘What? Oh, that.’ Colin made a slightly contemptuous gesture. ‘If you insist.’

‘Right, then.’ She snapped the lid of her briefcase shut. ‘I’ll see what I can do. No promises, of course, but I will do my best. Thnt’s all I can offer.’

‘That’s fine.’ He could feel himself wilting, like a microwaved violet. ‘I’d really appreciate it.

‘I think you’re stupid,’ she added, ‘and probably mad, but it’s not up to me to pass judgement. Unprofessional.’

‘Fine.’

‘All right, then.’ She moved toward the door. ‘I’ll be in touch.’

‘Good. I’ll, um, look forward to hearing from you.’

‘Okay. I’ll see myself out, I know the way.’

When she’d gone, he sat down in a chair, feeling filleted and rather sick. He wondered if he’d made the offer because he didn’t really believe in any of it, so naturally it didn’t matter. That’d be good, if it was true, but it wasn’t. Instead, he realised, he’d just performed an act of mindless, pointless, gormless heroism, a bit like running back into a burning house to save a cockroach. An image of Oscar formed in his mind, and he squirmed. A truly noble and altruistic act; but there’d be no medal, no headlines in the local rag about have-a-go-hero Colin Hollingshead. Instead (and this really did make him wince) there they’d be, the three of them, in perpetuity; himself, Dad and Oscar. Together for ever, like it says on kids’ T-shirts.

Talk about bloody stupid.

The door opened, and it was at least two seconds before he realised who’d come in.

‘I thought we were having lunch,’ she said.

Christ, he thought, I’d forgotten. Then he realised that it wasn’t quite as important as it had been, an hour or so earlier.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Actually, I was wondering, do you think we could possibly give it a miss for today? Only I’ve got a bit of a headache, and—’

She was looking at him. That made two young women looking at him on the same day. ‘It’s all right,’ she said, in a voice that suggested that it bloody well wasn’t. ‘You don’t need to make up any excuses.’

‘Sorry? I don’t—’

‘I heard you,’ she said, tight-lipped with anger. T was just passing the door earlier, and I heard you talking to her. That bitch,’ she amplified, for the avoidance of any doubt.

‘What? Oh, you mean Ms—’

‘She said, we need to talk about last night. I heard her. You must think I’m really, really stupid.’

Oh for crying out loud, Colin thought. ‘Look, it wasn’t anything like—’

‘And then I went back downstairs to have a bloody good cry,’ she went on, ‘and then I thought, maybe I got the wrong end of the stick, I’ll go back up and see if they’re still there, so I came back up and I heard you. You were in my dreams, you said. You bastard,’ she added. ‘So don’t you give me any bullshit about a headache, because—’

‘It wasn’t like that,’ Colin said, and even while he was saying It he could feel the fuel gauge of his emotional reserve dipping into the red. An hour or so can make all the difference. Not so very long ago, nothing could have mattered more than putting things right with the only girl in the world for him. Now, though, he was too worn out to care. Nevertheless: ‘She’s just someone I have to work with,’ he said. ‘That stuff you heard, it’s completely out of context. I couldn’t give a stuff about her, all right?’

‘Liar.’

And he thought: yes, I do love this stupid woman, very much indeed. On the other hand, life’s too short. Very much too short. ‘Suit yourself,’ he said wearily. ‘If you don’t believe me, that’s your choice. Great pity, but there it is.’

There was some small consolation in seeing on someone else’s face the sort of shocked bewilderment he’d been feeling ever since he’d joined the meeting. ‘Right,’ she said, and slammed the door behind her.

Colin sat down again and tried not to laugh. Comical; what had the Clay female been saying about time-crossed lovers? Nothing like the prospect of eternal damnation to take the sting out of a tiff with a girl. In fact, looked at from that perspective, it was a universal panacea for all possible ills. So he was a born loser with no love life and lousy career prospects, but he was going to hell for ever, so who cared? Might as well toddle back to his kennel and stick a few more of those revolting brochures into envelopes, because it really didn’t matter. Once you kick the habit of hope, there’s all sorts of tiresome chores you don’t have to bother with any more; it’s as good as a doctor’s note, or a letter from your Mum saying you’re to be let off PE. It was enough to make a man next best thing to cheerful.

‘So, Mr Shumway,’ said the face behind the desk. ‘What do you see yourself doing in five years’ time?’

Benny looked at him through his bulletproof-glass-thick spectacles. ‘Exactly five years from now?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Right,’ Benny replied, ‘just bear with me a second.’ He put a hand to the side pocket of his jacket and produced something the size and shape of an orange, wrapped in a spotlessly clean handkerchief. ‘Thought you might ask me that, so I borrowed this from a pal of mine. At the Bank,’ he added, whisking away the hanky to reveal a clear glass globe. As he did so, something flat and shiny tumbled out of the folds and fell on the desk, but Benny appeared not to have noticed. ‘So,’ he went on, glancing at his watch, ‘it’s two-fifteen on Wednesday the—’

The glass ball started to glow; then its interior went milky. Benny nodded in satisfaction and put it down in the middle of the desk. ‘Reception can be a bit tricky sometimes this side of the Divide,’ he said, ‘but this is the Zone 2 model, they reckon it works in the land of the living as well. Now, let’s see.’ The milkiness was beginning to disperse. ‘Look, there’s me,’ Benny said brightly, pointing to a small figure in the centre of the globe. ‘And—’ He paused, and a grin slowly spread across his face. ‘And just look what I’m doing,’ he said. ‘And in the middle of the afternoon, too.’ He bent his head over the globe and squinted; the face on the other side of the desk was looking away with a rather stunned expression. ‘Can’t say I know her,’ Benny went on. ‘At least, not yet. Definitely something to look forward to, wouldn’t you say?’

‘Yes, fine,’ the face said, in a high, strained voice. ‘Could you please cover that thing up or put it away?’

‘Sure,’ Benny said, swathing the globe in his hanky and pocketing it. ‘Right, next question.’

The face had that look on it that suggests its owner has just seen something nasty he’s read about in books but never actually witnessed before. Benny made a mental note of that.