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“The Between Place?” asked Tom. “What’s that?”
“It’s the place where you go if you ain’t quite ready to go to one of the other Places yet,” said Marcus.
Tom’s heart was thumping. This was really scary. Perhaps he was dreaming. He hoped so.
“How... how do they decide?” he asked, realising that he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know the answer.
“Oh, don’t worry,” said Marcus. “Most people who come here go on to the Good Place eventually.” He looked very worried for a few seconds. Then he grinned. “In fact, everybody I’ve ever met here has gone on to the Good Place.”
“So, why couldn’t they decide when we first – died?” asked Tom.
“Oh, well, you know, you’ve just got to, sort of finish something off,” said Marcus. “Well, are you going to get up or what?”
Tom swung his legs out of the bed and planted his feet on the floor. It was fine. He actually worked. He didn’t feel either dead or as if he’d just been in a serious accident. He felt completely normal. That was odd as well. He didn’t feel cold like you normally do when you get out of bed.
“So, where are we exactly?” asked Tom.
“I ain’t sure,” said Marcus. “It’s just called the Between Place.”
“It must actually be somewhere,” said Tom.
Marcus just shrugged.
“It ain’t like where you used to live,” he said. “Things don’t happen in quite the same way. It’s all right, though. They look after you all right.”
“Well, where’s everybody else?” asked Tom. “How many people are here?”
“A few,” said Marcus. “They don’t normally like us to talk to each other. But I’ve been here so long that I can find me way around.”
“Why?” asked Tom. “Why have you been here so long?”
Rema was suddenly there.
“Out you go,” she said to Marcus. “I am sure you have got something better to do than pester Tom.”
Marcus disappeared.
“Can you stand up?” Rema asked Tom.
Tom put his weight on to his feet. It was fine. Normal.
“Good,” she said. “Now sit down on the bed.”
Rema struck the middle of his knee with small rubber hammer. His leg shot forward.
“This is excellent,” she said. “This is one of the best responses we’ve ever had.”
She held his head firmly between her hands and looked right into his eyes.
“Yes,” she said, “you’re ready. I’ll get Zeboth and you can start straight away.”
She floated backwards from him and seemed to change into Zeboth.
“Let’s go for a walk,” said Zeboth. “You may ask me questions as we go along.”
Well, that would be good. He could find out more about this place.
“So where are we?” asked Tom.
“At the Between Place,” said Zeboth. “You are neither alive nor dead, in neither the Good Place nor on Earth.”
“Nor Hell,” mumbled Tom.
Zeboth nodded. “We try not to talk about that,” he said. “And anyway, we call it the Bad Place.”
“But where is this place?” asked Tom.
“Even if we could explain, you still wouldn’t understand,” said Zeboth.
“Do we eat and drink here?” asked Tom. “Or get older or sleep?”
“You don’t eat or drink, except in some special circumstances,” said Zeboth, “though at first you might feel hungry or thirsty. You won’t age. But you will sleep. This ethereal body will seem to get tired just like an earthly body, but it is actually the mind and the heart which grow weary. Sleep refreshes you and allows you to dream. You can often sort out what is to be done whilst you sleep. Whenever you feel tired, you just come back to your bed.”
“Well, do you have a map of this place or something?” asked Tom, suddenly realising that they were going along corridor after corridor which looked exactly the same: lines of tall arches which seemed to stretch on forever. There were also passages going off to the sides.
“You don’t need a map,” replied Zeboth. “You’ll find your way.”
“But it’s such a big place and it all looks the same,” said Tom.
“What do you actually see?” asked Zeboth.
“It’s like a gigantic church which goes on and on,” replied Tom.
“Interesting,” said Zeboth. “Church, that has an association with what you call Heaven – you must have realised you had died.”
“I just thought I was in some sort of old hospital or fancy rehabilitation centre,” said Tom.
“Yes, that also makes sense,” said Zeboth. “You were hoping you were in hospital because that would mean you were still alive. It will probably change, soon. But don’t worry. Any really important questions you have, I’ll be there before you even think it and Rema will be checking on your ethereal body from time to time. But we can’t help you with whatever it is that you need to do before you move on. That you must find out for yourself and then complete it.”
Zeboth disappeared then. No drama. He just wasn’t there anymore.
Tom found himself now in a big open park. He didn’t remember stepping out of the building. Never mind, it was a good space to be in. It felt like fresh air and it was decidedly more cheerful than that freaky church place. He could hear mouth organ music again.
“Oh, there you are,” said a now familiar voice. Marcus was standing just behind him. He was holding a football. He walked over towards Tom and he really was walking, placing his feet one in front of the other. Tom could hear the gentle thud each time. “Fancy a kick around?” asked Marcus.
Tom found himself nodding his head. He wasn’t a great football fan, but yes, kicking a ball about for a bit seemed like a good idea. It would stop him thinking too much. If there was going to be anything odd about this new type of body that would help him get used to it.
There wasn’t anything odd about it. It was just normal. He kicked the ball when it came his way. He felt the ground beneath his feet. He felt the edge of his foot against the ball. He could hear it bounce on the slightly hardened grass. He really was in a park. The trees were blowing in the breeze. He even thought he could hear the voices of children playing nearby, but when he looked around there was no one there. They ran around for twenty minutes or so and then they both flopped down to the ground, out of breath. It felt like grass underneath Tom’s hand and it smelt like grass which had recently been cut.
“So,” said Tom once he had got his breath back. “Do you see the same as what I see?”
“Well, what are you seein’ now?” asked Marcus.
“Have we just played football in a park?” asked Tom.
“Yeah,” said Marcus. “See, I can tell what people are thinking, so I fixed it that we played football.”
“Did I want to play football, then?” asked Tom.
“Well, you wanted to do something solid,” replied Marcus. “I guessed football was the best bet.”
That was fair enough, Tom supposed.
“Well, is there a reason you look so pale to me?” asked Tom.
“Like I’ve been dead two hundred years,” replied Marcus.
“Two hundred?” said Tom. “I thought people didn’t stay here long.”
“I’m the exception,” said Tom. “It went a bit funny with me. I couldn’t quite do it. Mind you, I know how to make it all work here. It ain’t such a bad place to be stuck. You can have it exactly the way you want it with a bit of practice.”
“Do I look pale to you as well?” asked Tom.
“Yeah, you look like a ghost,” replied Marcus. “You know, like you’d expect if somebody was dead an’ all. What you make of the guardians here?”
“Guardians?” asked Tom. “Like guardian angels?”
“Ah, so you see ‘em as angels then?” said Marcus nodding his head and grinning. “Makes sense.”
It did, though Tom hadn’t realized that that was what he had seen. Yes, the long robes. The blond hair. The way they floated about and that music he’d heard when he first woken up – until it was interrupted by Marcus’ mouth organ. That was always the way he’d imagined angels to be – except that they would have wings.
“Except,” he started.
“No wings?” said Marcus nodding. “Naw, you see, you didn’t quite want to believe you was dead.”
“So, what do I have to do?” asked Tom.
“I dunno,” replied Marcus. “Only you can know that. But there must be summat you need to finish off.”
Tom thought for a moment. He guessed it must be something to do with Amanda. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes.
“I think you’re getting a clue, ain’t you?” asked Marcus.
Tom nodded.
“Don’t go there yet,” said Marcus, suddenly serious. “It’s best to practise first. Think of somewhere you’d just like to go that don’t mean all the much.”
“The canteen in my college?” asked Tom.
“Fair enough,” said Marcus.
“Well, how do I do it?” asked Tom.
“Just think about it hard enough, and you’ll be there.”
“Like I just float through the wall?”
“Oh gawd. Like a flippin’ ghost. Oh please! It just don’t happen.”
“Well, aren’t we ghosts, then?” asked Tom.
“No, we ain’t. There ain’t no such thing,” said Marcus. He had folded his hands across his chest and he was frowning.
“So, haven’t you been back and looked at the people you used to live with?” asked Tom.
“Of course,” said Marcus.
“And you’ve never floated through a wall?” asked Tom.
“Never!” shouted Marcus. He winced. “Well, except once, and that was a mistake.”
Marcus’ frown deepened. “Well I guess we’re about the nearest to what they might be,” he said. “Now let’s get to that canteen. Think about it.”
Tom thought hard. The park disappeared and he was in a fog. Then out of the fog came the noise of cutlery and chatter. It gradually got louder and then he found himself standing in the middle of the canteen.
“Easy ain’t it?” said Marcus. He was grinning. He was no longer pale and he was wearing an exact copy of the clothes Tom had been wearing when the accident happened. Tom realised he was wearing the same.
John Stone, someone who’d been in the year below him brushed straight past him. He ought to have touched him, but Tom’s arm just floated straight through John’s.
“So we are like ghosts,” said Tom.
“Sort of,” said Marcus.
“And they really can’t see us?”
“Well, he didn’t did he?”
It was amazing. This was the day after the accident. As he walked about the rows of tables, he realised that everyone was a bit subdued. He heard some snatches of conversation.
“Yes, they’re saying it wasn’t his fault, but the car just went straight over the bridge,” he heard one student say. It was a boy, again a year younger than him, and somebody he didn’t really know very well.
Tom noticed that some of the girls had red eyes. “They’ve been crying about me,” he whispered to Marcus. He suddenly thought of Amanda. What would she be thinking? He must try to get to her.
“Not yet!” said Marcus. He looked serious. Then he grinned again. “Look,” he said. “We can do stuff.” He knocked a chair over and tipped a jug of water all over the table.
“Oh for God’s sake,” said one of the girls whose jeans got soaked. She glared at the boy sitting opposite. Another student picked up the chair. She didn’t seem to find anything unusual in it.
Marcus started to fiddle about. He shook pepper and salt on to some of the food. He upset ketchup bottles. He knocked spare knives and forks on to the floor. No one saw him, but there were plenty of complaints about the food.
“Worse than normal today,” said one.
“I’m going to go out tomorrow,” said another “even if it is more expensive. Can’t stand this pig swill any longer.”
Tom just stood and watched. It was clear, though, that Marcus knew exactly what he was doing. No one ever saw him. Tom didn’t think he’d ever dare do anything like that.
“Ain’t you gonna have a go?” called Marcus.
“I don’t know…,” said Tom.
“Goo orn, it’s easy,” said Marcus, picking up a few paper napkins and letting them float down to the floor.
Tom tentatively picked up a pepper pot and sprinkled pepper over a girl’s hamburger while she wasn’t looking.
“Aagh! This is gross,” she said, as she took a bite. “Too much pepper.”
Tom couldn’t help smiling to himself. This was a bit of a lark.
Another girl had dropped her fork on the floor in all the confusion. As she went to pick it up, Tom made it slide across the floor.
“Damn!” said the girl.
He then blew at the back of her neck and was pleased to see her shiver.
“Does it seem a bit draughty in here to you?” she asked another student sitting next to her.
But all of this was nothing to what Marcus was now doing. He moved people’s bags so that others suddenly tripped over them. He mixed the spoons up with the forks and the teaspoons in the cutlery containers and he played his mouth organ loudly in people’s ears. They would then bat the air as if shooing away a fly.
“Can they actually hear you?” Tom asked.
“They can hear summat,” said Marcus, “only they ain’t sure what. It’s great, ain’t it, polterspooking?”
Tom began to relax and felt as if he was getting into the swing of this new craft. It was all a matter of doing things which might just about happen just as no one was looking in your direction. It certainly gave you something to titter about when they looked up all puzzled.
Marcus was just about to tip a cup of water over a book a boy was reading when he suddenly stopped. A shadow passed across his face.
“That’s enough,” shouted an aggressive female voice.
Two community police officers had appeared in the entrance to the canteen. Marcus disappeared. The officers made their way over to where Tom was standing. They didn’t look too pleased.
But then it became clear that the students couldn’t see them. Tom realised they were Rema and Zeboth.
He suddenly felt very tired.
The canteen noises disappeared and he was sitting on his bed. He was in a more normal room now. It could have been a bedroom anywhere. The two guardians were still dressed as community police officers but they looked less serious now.
Rema started manipulating his arms and legs. “Good, good,” she said. The uniform dissolved and she became an angel again, this time with wings. “Your body is holding up well.” She nodded to Zeboth.
“You may sleep now,” said the other guardian.
The room faded and Tom fell into a deep sleep.
