“Because it was a good idea, that’s why,” said Kent, wonderingif the angel really had given Dickens the idea for A Christmas Carol. Somany strange things had happened in recent days, he could believe just aboutanything by now.
“It was a good story, admittedly,” replied the angel.
“Look, this is how I see it,” said Kent. “You’ve let me relivemy past to come to terms with my present. Now I’m ready to look to the future,but all I need is a little nudge in the right direction. Show me where I willbe in ten years’ time, and then I can work towards it.”
“What if you’re dead in ten years?” asked the angel. “Do youwant to spend the day rotting in a grave?”
“I’m not, am I?”
“No, you’re not.”
That was a relief. He had at least a decade left, then. Hecould achieve a lot in ten years.
“That’s what I want, then. I want you to send me forwardexactly ten years in time from today. Show me the future.”
“Very well,” said the angel. “But you’ve got to promise methat whatever you see, you will not try and use it to your advantage or alteranything when you return. And definitely no looking up horse racing results! BecauseI will be watching, and I will come back and sort it out if you do. Are we agreed?”
“It’s a deal,” replied Kent, and he meant it. The angel’s omnipotencehad been wholly benevolent up until now but he had absolutely no desire to geton the wrong side of it.
“Right then, let’s get started,” said the angel. “Just tolet you know, we won’t meet again after this. I won’t be here when you getback, so I guess it’s time to say goodbye.”
“Aren’t you going to tell me who you are first?” asked Kent.“After all of this, surely it won’t do any harm.”
“Do you really need to know all the answers?” replied theangel. “Does it really matter who or what I am? Look, you’ve had a fantasticadventure with my help so why not leave it at that? Why not keep an element ofmystery about it? Draw your own conclusions and think of me, well, as whateveryou would like me to be.”
“I suppose that all makes sense,” conceded Kent. The angelwas right, it didn’t really matter.
“Well, thank you for all you’ve done,” he added. “I reallydo appreciate it – you genuinely have changed my life.”
“You’re welcome,” replied the angel.
“Keep up the good work,” added Kent. “There are plenty ofothers in this town who would benefit from your help if you’re planning tostick around.” As he said it, he thought about Kay and the others in the pub.What difference might the angel make to their lives?
“One final thing,” said the angel. “Make sure you book yourselvesa holiday in Cyprus for the last two weeks of October 2029. You don’t want tobe around then.”
“Why not?” asked Kent.
“I’m not going into details, but trust me; your life dependson it. Now it’s time to go, and remember what I said. Off you pop.” With that,the angel clicked his fingers for the last time.
As Kent vanished before his eyes, the angel took a last lookaround. This had been a lot of fun, not just for Kent but for him, too. He mayhave had a whole universe to play with, but got bored very easily. This hadbeen the most interesting case he had had for ages.
Where to next? he wondered. Kent was right; there wereplenty of interesting cases in the town. He would have to investigate further.But for now, he needed to rest so it was time to leave Universe 1.0 to its owndevices for a while. Aware that Kent would return in just a few seconds, he himselfvanished. The space in the corner of the rooftop they had shared for the pastsix days was left empty, with just a plastic lemonade bottle and some leavesblowing about in the breeze.
In 2028, Kent was waking up in a body that was now fifty-twoyears old. Surprisingly, he didn’t feel that bad, certainly no worse than hehad at forty-two. Looking down at his body he could see it was a similar shapeto before. Clearly he hadn’t made much progress in his vow to live healthily.Still, on the plus side, at least he hadn’t put on any more weight. The only noticeablesign of aging was the hair on his chest – it had turned almost completely white.Had the same happened to the hair on his head? That was assuming there was evenany left. He had been noticeably thinning on top by his early forties.
He sat up and looked around. The room was not one he recognisedbut it was filled with familiar things, notably the old bed frame, black metalwith gold knobs on. Clearly they had moved house, but to where?
Debs wasn’t in the room but there was enough evidence of heraround to reassure him they were still together. He could see her usual brandof deodorant, the one she had used for years on the dressing table. He also recognisedthe little china cats on the window sill, family heirlooms passed on to her byher grandmother.
Thankfully there was no mirror in the room, so he would bespared the sight of his declining hairline for the time being.
He could hear a lot of hustle and bustle coming fromoutside, so he got up and walked over to the window. The curtains were closed,so he pulled them apart, allowing the bright sunlight to flood in. It shedlight not only on his immediate surroundings, but also on the location of theroom. When he cast his eyes down at the street outside, he found himselflooking at a familiar scene.
It was no wonder it was noisy. He was looking down from afirst-floor window right at the High Street of the town he knew so well. He knewimmediately by the stalls stretching up the street that it must be a Friday – marketday.
“Get your bananas here, six
