Chapter 4
James: I Wouldn’t Normally Do This Kind Of Thing
I’m not sure exactly what Amy is up to, but I get the feeling there’s something weird going on with this new crowd she hangs out with.
It’s fantastic that all these people at the crematorium have taken such a shine to Amy – but of course they would – she’s amazing.
She’s so caring and kind and funny and, even now, despite everything, still wildly optimistic.
So quite honestly it’s not surprising that some grief slips through the pain filter, there is just so much to miss about Amy.
I know I spend too long watching her. That doesn’t help.
But despite how ‘heavenly’ it is up here, I really, really miss her.
If only I could reach her, talk to her, reassure her that it’s not all over, that I’m always going to be here for her.
But all I can do is watch, helplessly, from here, with the viewer on this phone.
Everyone gets one, so you can see the people you knew back on Earth.
I love being able to watch Amy, but sometimes it is a double-edged sword because seeing her is a reminder of how much I’m missing by being here.
I want to be able to do so much more than just watch her.
I want to be with her. And if I can’t be with her, I at least want to be able to contact her in some way.
But for whatever reason, this app is view-only.
And quite honestly, even the viewer isn’t brilliant.
Pretty foggy at times. At least mine is.
Must ask whether anyone else has this problem.
I’ll check in on her again later, as I always do last thing at night, but right now it’s time for a pint with the lads.
I’m loving getting to hang out with Andy and Luke again.
I served with them, and they were two of my best mates.
The brothers I never had. Andy is having a ball up here.
He didn’t have a girlfriend or wife to leave behind, so he can just get on with his afterlife.
He’s met a young woman here, and he’s completely besotted with her.
He’s quite the smooth-talker, with a charming smile to match.
He was always popular with the ladies, and he never settled down before.
But meeting Maia has changed all that. Good luck to him.
He’s a good guy and he deserves to be happy.
But I have to admit, now and again I can’t help feeling envious when I see the two of them together, all loved up.
I wish I could have had longer with Amy.
We were so good together. Probably not the most obvious match, but it worked, it really worked.
We didn’t have to work at it, like some people say they do, for us it just worked all by itself.
Being with her was never an effort, it was always right where I wanted to be.
Luke has been up here a good while longer than me.
He’s the best. To everyone. He was an amazing soldier – strong as an ox, super-smart at strategy, and fiercely brave.
You honestly couldn’t wish for a more generous, more selfless, more loyal friend.
And he was so good to his wife, Becky, he had left instructions with his will that she was to start seeing other people as soon as possible so that she wouldn’t waste months or years of her life mourning him.
He’d even requested that Adrian, another army mate, keep an eye on her.
He knew exactly what he was doing, he knew they got on well and he knew they could get on even better if life just brought them a bit closer together – and thanks to him that’s what happened.
So now Becky and Adrian are married and have a baby girl. They named her Lucy.
So, I might not have been super-organised and planned ahead like Luke did, but at least I can try now to help Amy, let her know it’s all good, and persuade her to get back out there and really live again.
Andy and Luke and I all live in the same small town, or more accurately an oversized village, and we’re meeting at our local, a little old pub by the river, that wouldn’t look out of place in The Shire.
When I first went in there I half expected to find hobbits drinking from tankards at the old wooden tables.
It’s got the best beer and the best views, but even on a sunny evening there’s never a shortage of seats in the garden, which is strange really, as it’s always popular.
It’s like everywhere up here, it never seems to be overcrowded.
Andy and Luke are sitting at a table by the river when I arrive.
‘The usual?’ asks Andy, getting up.
‘Yeah, why not,’ I reply, pulling up another rustic wooden seat. ‘Do you need a hand?’
‘Nah, I’m good,’ and Andy heads off inside.
There’s no happy hour up here – well it’s always happy hour in effect. Alcohol is different here, no hangovers, no liver damage. It’s almost as healthy as drinking a smoothie. But it still tastes great and gives you that welcome relaxed feeling at the end of the day. No complaints there.
Right now I need to pick the boys’ brains about communicating with people back on Earth.
‘You know when you were trying to persuade Becky to let herself get over you and see someone else, how did you go about it?’ I ask Luke.
‘Well, it wasn’t easy,’ he replies.
‘What wasn’t easy?’ Andy is back with the beers. It’s always so quick to get served here.
‘Persuading Becky to move on from me.’
‘Well, obviously with such a fine specimen of a human being as you it was always going to be tough,’ jokes Andy.
‘Ah piss off!’ Luke retorts, laughing.
‘But seriously, how long did it take you?’ I really need to know this.
‘Oh, months.’
‘Months of doing what exactly? Don’t tell me it involves meditation or chanting or holding hands in some kind of spiritual group?’
Luke and Andy look at each other. I’m sensing it’s going to be bad news.
‘Yep, all of the above’ Andy replies earnestly. Luke is nodding along, a kind of grimace on his face. This has probably brought back painful memories. And he knows this is totally not my thing.
‘Well, I suppose I’ll just have to get my head around it. I guess it could be worse. I thought for a moment there you were going to tell me I’d have to do some real hippy shit like burning incense.’
From the looks on their faces, I can see this is going to be more bad news.
‘Ah, sorry mate,’ Andy says. ‘You’re definitely going to need to use incense. Isn’t that right, Luke?’
‘Afraid so. Yep, a lot of incense.’
Oh jeez, this is turning into my worst nightmare. Okay, not my worst nightmare, but still. I pull a face. I detest the smell of incense. It actually makes me want to throw up when it’s really strong. The boys know this.
‘Ah come on, James. A bit of incense won’t kill you,’ Luke encourages.
‘Nah, the Aldi lorry got there first,’ quips Andy. We all appreciate a bit of gallows humour up here.
Seriously? Incense? But I’m going to have to go for it.
I know the accident wasn’t my fault, and all that, but I’ve still ended up abandoning Amy.
And I feel really guilty about it. If we hadn’t got on so well it wouldn’t have been so bad to have left her.
There’d have been less to regret. But because we were so good together, it makes it so much worse that we’ve ended up apart.
I know it sounds like a real cliché, but it felt like Amy was my soulmate.
She accepted all of me, and everything about me – the whole package, including my work.
She never complained when I was going away.
She was really pragmatic about it. She said she’d walked into the relationship with her eyes wide open – she knew what I did for a job, and what that entailed.
So she felt she had no right to complain.
The only thing she asked was that I write to her every day when I could.
But not emails – proper old-fashioned letters like in the movies.
So that’s what I did. I wrote to her every day, and she wrote back to me.
Even when there wasn’t much news to swap, we’d always find something to write to each other.
Those letters from her kept me going through some tough times, and I know she said she loved getting the letters from me.
Geoff, our regular postie, became the second favourite man in her life, for all the right reasons.
And somehow the letters seemed particularly apt, given that I’m in, I mean I was in, the Royal Logistic Corps and one of the things we were responsible for was handling the mail for the army.
So, the long and short of it is that I’m just going to have to go through with this contacting her thing, incense and all. Because that’s the only way I can help Amy to stop grieving and start really living again.