Heaven Calling Page 5

  Josh shrugged, “I don’t know but it was a really good offer. Anyway...Christmas.”

  “Christmas? What about it?”

  “Let’s get married at Christmas.” Holly looked at Josh as though he had lost the plot completely. It was already March. It didn’t leave a lot of time for saving or planning but - what she didn’t know was - Josh’s mum had already set aside a fair chunk of money for her only son’s wedding, as well as a deposit for a small house when he did find the right woman. Not that these were factors which made him want to rush into things. He knew he wasn’t rushing. From the moment he had first met Holly he was confident that this would be the woman he’d spend the rest of his life with. Well - so long as she was a little bit stupid so as to give him the time of day in the first place!

  “Christmas?”

  “Christmas!” he winked.

  Holly squealed another scream of excitement. “What will my parents say?” she laughed.

  “Well your father said it’s not a problem but he did say he’d break my legs if I hurt you!” Josh beamed.

  “You already asked his permission?”

  “I think he was joking,” said Josh as he recalled the threat made by Frank. “At least about the broken legs anyway.” Josh’s thoughts were interrupted by the waiter as he brought the bill over and handed it to him. A quick glimpse, so as not to reveal the price to the lady at the table, and Josh’s eyes went wide, “Honey...”

  “What’s wrong?” she asked - seeing the panicked look in his eyes.

  “If you want the Christmas wedding...We’re going to have to do a runner,” he laughed. “Didn’t realise this was going to cost more than the ring!” he joked.

  “Stop it, you’re making me feel bad,” said Holly - joking and yet serious at the same time.

  “It’s cool, I’m just teasing. If we both put in five hundred pounds each we should just about cover the bill and the tip,” he said with a wink. Holly leaned forward and snatched the receipt from his hand. Her eyes went wide. “What? You didn’t believe me?”

  * * * * *

  Holly was going through Josh’s wallet. A couple of credit cards for his bank. A picture of the two of them taken together in a photo booth they had drunkenly stumbled into on one of their earlier dates and there, folded neatly in one of the more out of the way compartments, was a receipt. She pulled it out and unfolded it. It was faded now - nearly too faded to read properly - but she could tell that it was the receipt from that meal; the one where he had asked her to marry him. Sentimental fool had kept hold of it.

  What are you doing? he had asked her one afternoon when he had come home early. He had walked into her putting her Valentine’s Day card into a plastic sleeve in a binder she had pulled from her closet in the bedroom. You’re keeping that? he asked her when he realised what she was doing. Holly had said yes and gone onto explain that she kept everything like that as they’re happy memories. Josh had joked that he didn’t realise that’s what you were supposed to do and had put his in the bin.

  Now, looking at the receipt that had been kept safely in the wallet for all this time, she wondered whether - when she felt strong enough to go through his things - she’d find his Valentine’s Day cards stashed somewhere too.

  She started to get upset when she thought about her own folder of happy memories. She always thought it would be there, in times like these, when she needed to look back at how lucky she had been and the wonderful things they had done together. The only reason, now, that she was getting upset was because she had always expected the folder to be significantly fuller; filled with nothing but happy memories. In time she’d be okay with the lack of memories in the folder. In time she’d realise that she was fortunate, in the first place, to be able to put any into the plastic sleeves within. At the moment, though, with everything so raw - she just couldn’t help but feel a little cheated.

  Reinforcements

  Holly completely lost track of the time as she paced her house looking for something - anything - to take her mind off both the phantom phone calls and the fact she had lost her husband in the first place. Everywhere she looked, though, were memories - mostly good and some made up of pointless arguments; one of which being the television’s remote control in the lounge - a petty argument had started, one rainy evening, because she wanted to watch one channel while he wanted to watch sports on the other. Because he had the controller first - he won. At least to begin with. Once the silent treatment started, after the initial argument, he soon gave in and handed the controller over before promptly falling asleep in front of Holly’s favourite cooking program.

  I don’t know why you watch this crap, he had said to her on one particular occasion when they had argued over control of the television, it’s not as though you can cook anyway. He hadn’t been cruel when he had stated the harsh fact. It was true. Holly wasn’t the best cook and nor did she pretend to be. It wasn’t because she didn’t enjoy cooking. Quite the opposite in fact. She loved to cook. It was just that - every time she tried something new - it didn’t pan out quite the way she, or Josh for that matter, as he was the one who had to eat the results, had hoped. Never mind the fact she that liked the presenter, an Italian woman who made the whole process look ridiculously easy, she hoped that - one day - everything would suddenly click into place and all the tips she had learnt through watching the shows, whenever they were on, would pay off and she’d suddenly be an amazing chef. After all - she figured - if she watched enough of the recipes being cooked eventually something would have to stick.

  Josh could never complain about her lack of knowledge, or ability, when it came to cooking because he wasn’t exactly the best when it came down to making meals in the kitchen either. Proof if it were needed was one Christmas when they were eating as a massive family - Josh, Holly and both of their parents - he had asked if he could help with anything. He had expected Karen to say ‘no’ and that everything was under control but - to his horror - she charged him with looking after the potatoes. Twenty over boiled minutes later and, that year, they had a massive turkey bird which had been cooked to perfection by Karen and carved expertly by Frank, all the vegetables you could possibly wish for thanks to Josh’s mum and - thanks to Josh - mash potato. He offered to have another go, out of embarrassment rather than a desperate need to get it right, but they had run out of time and - if they didn’t dish everything up there and then - other bits would have been ruined too. Holly loved it. She sat through dinner with a smile on her face with every mouthful.

  You can never criticise my cooking again! She had laughed when they were clearing away the plates - most of which still had generous helpings of mash potato left to one side - and, to be fair, he didn’t.

  A knock on the front door brought Holly back to reality. She frowned because she wasn’t expecting anyone but walked through to the front door regardless. Probably someone pushing the Lord’s work onto her, she thought. Part of her hoped it was. She’d soon tell them about His work. The deity who had deemed it necessary to take her husband away from her so soon. She knew the answer they’d give her - the people at the door - would be that the Lord moves in mysterious ways. Whenever something happens where people can’t explain why it happened, they always use that excuse. Their handy Get out of Jail Free card. Not this time. Holly was still pent up from the argument she had had with her mum that morning and this was going to be the perfect excuse to have a rant. She already felt sorry for the people on the other side of the door.

  She clicked the latch open and pulled the door handle. The door opened and Holly was shocked to see Frank standing there, “Dad?”

  “Hi, sweetie,” he said with a kindness in his voice, “mind if I come in?” he asked.

  “Mum with you?”

  Frank shook his head as he stepped over the threshold, “Just me.”

  “She sent you though?” asked Holly as she closed the door behind him and invited him through to the kitchen as she knew he’d want a cup of tea. There had never been a t
ime when her father had visited and turned down the offer of a hot drink. On the rare occasions there was no offer - he suggested Holly be a good daughter and stick the kettle on.

  “Spoke to your mum,” he said as he followed her through to the kitchen. Holly winced at the words as she knew that meant a lecture was coming her way - even though she wasn’t in the mood for one there was something about the way her father handled them that - when he felt it necessary to give her one - she could never argue against him or stop him from giving it.

  “Oh?” she said, trying to act as though everything was fine.

  “She’s worried about you,” said Frank - genuine concern in his voice.

  “I’m as fine as I could be,” said Holly.

  “I’m worried about you too,” said Frank.

  Holly turned to him, “Honestly - all things considered - I’m coping fine.”

  Frank didn’t argue with her. He just changed the subject. He was good at that. It was his little way of steering away from a possible argument. Holly wished Karen had mastered the same skill. Whenever the two of them had a similar style sit down conversation - it always ended with a shouting match which simply went round and around in circles with no-one coming out on top. “What’s this I hear about phone calls?” he asked her. His tone of voice was neutral. He wasn’t judging her, just as Holly felt Karen had been. He didn’t sound as though he believed his daughter was mad either - another positive.

  Holly turned away from him and filled the kettle with water before switching it on to boil. “I know how it sounds,” she said unable to look Frank in the eye.

  “It sounds interesting,” he said. “What’s been happening?” he asked.

  Holly wasn’t sure whether he was just humouring her or whether there was a chance he’d believe what she had to say - even if it did sound crazy - but she figured she may as well explain it to him anyway. The chances are, he already knew all about it anyway from Karen. So she explained what had happened every morning since the accident - and that she had argued about it with her mum who didn’t believe her. To his credit Frank didn’t say anything. He just sat there and listened whilst he patiently waited for Holly to finish making his cup of tea.

  “I know it sounds crazy,” Holly said when she had finished explaining everything.

  Frank shrugged, “All depends on what you believe in. Your mother - she is very black and white with the world she lives in but...” he smiled, “I like to think there is something after death. You know - somewhere else we move on to. We never spoke about it. Mainly because I didn’t think you’d be bothered by it or you’d think I was weird but, when I was younger and before I met your mother, I used to go off with friends to supposed haunted areas around the country. Wherever possible we’d stay the night to try and see if we could find any ghosts.” Frank laughed as he reminisced. “Never saw any but it’s fair to say we spooked ourselves on a number of occasions!”

  “I didn’t know that,” said Holly - seeing, for the first time, a new side to her father.

  “Well, I kind of moved away from that kind of thing when I met your mother. The two of us went, this one time, to see if we could see anything together. I wanted to go and she just came along to humour me but - well - it wasn’t a successful evening by any stretch of the imagination. We didn’t see anything. She was bored and cold and wanted to leave. I think, in the end, we were out for about two hours before calling it a night. That was the last time we ever did anything like that. Now if we go somewhere, for the day or night, it tends to be your mother’s choice.” Holly detected a hint of resentment in Frank’s tone. “But - I never stopped believing. That doesn’t mean you’re having conversations with Josh. It doesn’t mean he has some way of contacting you. Your mother, bless her, could be right - it could all be down to the stress you’re feeling at the moment. You’re going through Hell at the moment, no one would blame you if you did think you were having these conversations or, indeed, if they actually took place when you were asleep but were so vivid you thought them to be real upon waking up. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Holly was surprised at what Frank was saying. She expected him to lecture her about how it was impossible for Josh to be contacting her from beyond the grave and that Karen was right to tell her so. She never once thought there’d be a part of him which believed - or wanted to believe at least - that it could be real. “You know what you want to try next time he tries calling? You want to try and record it. Catch the conversation on your mobile phone, if you can. You never know - this could be important. Not just for you but for others too. Can you imagine the hope it would give people?” He sipped at his cup of tea as soon as Holly handed it to him. “How about a couple of biscuits?” he suggested with a wink.

  Hope

  Holly was awake the following morning bright and early. She was sitting on the edge of her bed and waiting, hoping, for the phone to ring again with Josh on the other end of the line. Next to her, on the bed, was her mobile phone which she had already set up to record at the touch of a button. Proof that Josh was communicating with her. Despite the newfound hope her father had given her, with the conversation the previous day, she couldn’t help but feel apprehensive. Just because Josh had called for the previous two days, it didn’t mean he’d be calling again. And if he didn’t call then it would forever remain a mystery as to what truly had happened. She took her eye off the phone momentarily and looked at the clock hanging on the far wall. Coming up to eight o’clock. Holly wasn’t sure what time he had been calling her. Early enough to wake her up and she usually got out of bed, on days when she had work anyway, just after eight. All being good - Josh should be calling any minute now.

  “Please,” she said, “come on....Come on....”

  On cue, as though he had heard her pleading, the phone started to ring. Holly wasted no time in grabbing it - pressing record on her mobile phone as she did so.

  “Josh?” she said.

  “Hello, baby!” he said. “What - were you sitting on the phone?” he asked. “It didn’t even ring this end! That’s speedy going there!” he laughed.

  “You said you’d be calling,” she lied.

  “A man of my word! Are you still mad at me for leaving last night?” he asked.

  “No, I miss you.” She was mad at herself for letting him go. If only she had made him stay. Kept him at home until the morning. Everything would have been different. He would have had a good night’s sleep and the accident would never have happened.

  “You’ve not had a chance to miss me! I bet you slept like a log whilst I was busy driving! Have to tell you, though, I’m pretty bushed. Kept meaning to pull over but - by the time I thought to do so - I didn’t have much further to go.”

  She closed her eyes and tried to block out the true meaning of what he was saying. The confession that he was overly tired and had meant to pull over. That explained the accident. He fell asleep at the wheel and must have veered off of the road. “Are you there now?” she asked.

  “Nearly,” he said.

  “Where are you?” she pushed him again. Josh didn’t answer her. “Where are you?” she asked him again. When he didn’t answer her for the second time she continued, “Can you hear me?” she changed her line of question. “Josh?”

  “I’m coming up to a tunnel,” he said, “I think I’m losing you.”

  “Don’t go into the tunnel!” she shouted. “Josh - pull over - please. Don’t go into the...” the phone line went dead. Holly didn’t react this time. No tears. Nothing. She put the phone down - disappointed, once more, that the chat had been brief. At least she had it on her mobile phone though. She pressed the button, on the screen, to cancel the recording. It stopped and the file automatically saved to the handset. A brief conversation but at least she had it so that she could play it back whenever she wanted. Like now. She went to the relevant section of her smartphone and pressed the play icon next to the little save file.

  “Josh?” her voice came through clearly on the recording. Som
ething was different though to how it played through when she recorded the conversation. The other end of the phone was buzzing as though no one was there. Just a dead tone. “You said you’d be calling,” her voice continued after a short gap in which it should have been Josh’s voice. Another gap in the recording of only the dead tone playing through before Holly came through again, “No, I miss you.” A longer gap this time. “Are you there now?” her voice said on the recording. “Where are you?” A short silence. “Where are you?” Another short gap. “Can you hear me? Josh?” The final gap in the recording. “Don’t go into the tunnel!” she shouted on the recording. “Josh - pull over - please. Don’t go into the...” The recording stopped.

  “No, it can’t be,” she said. She played it again. Same results. The entire conversation minus Josh’s voice. “No, no, no...” she started to cry as panic set in. The recording proved nothing other than the fact she was talking to herself; the first sign of madness. She picked up the telephone again and dialed another number. A couple of seconds went by where she was forced to listen to the ringing tone from the other end. The phone clicked as the other end picked up.