Exactly the same but without crossing guards, was what I thought about saying, but I didn’t.

“Of course, you’re absolutely right,” was what I did say. “There are a few other things I’d like to ask you about.”

“Anything I can help you with.” Raphael was smiling again.

“Last week, you were supposed to be having lunch with God’s son, Phil. Is that correct?”

“That’s right. We were going to discuss setting up a charitable society.”

“A charitable society?”

“Of course. My chief interest is helping those less fortunate than myself.”

“What sort of charitable society?”

“That is exactly what we were going to discuss. I feel that Heaven needs an all-embracing organisation that is capable of meeting the needs of the underprivileged. There are so many things we need to look at. Shelters for the homeless. Toys for the poor, sick kids in the hospital.”

“I didn’t know Heaven had a homeless problem?” I said. A moment ago, Raphael had been telling me how perfect it was.

“Of course it doesn’t,” said Raphael, “but that’s no reason not to start up a program.”

I had a feeling we could go around and around with this for a couple of days. And while the idea of a nonsensical debate with this absurd angel had its appeal, I wasn’t sure I had that much time to spare.

“So Phil also wanted to set up this charitable society?” I asked, trying to bring the conversation back to the main subject of investigation.

“Not exactly. He had some concerns. Something to do with cost-effectiveness and return on investment. That’s what we were going to discuss.”

“But Phil never showed up, did he.”

“No, he didn’t,” said Raphael.

“Do you have any idea why he didn’t show up?”

“Of course I know why he didn’t show up. He sent me a written apology.”

A written apology from a missing man? Could this be the clue I was looking for?

“You don’t happen to have this apology with you?” I said, trying to do my best imitation of Gabriel and not sound too interested.

“As a matter of fact I do.” Raphael reached into his pocket and took out a small note. He handed it to me. I read it.

Dear Raphael,

I am sorry I could not meet you. I am extremely busy helping God out with some very important work.

Yours sincerely,

Phil

I had to stifle a chuckle. I’d seen more convincing excuses coming from school kids with missing homework. Then, in response to a tingling in my nose, I held the note up to my face. It reeked of tobacco. That confirmed my suspicions. Clearly this was little more than another of God’s attempts to cover up His son’s disappearance. As a clue, it was as helpful as a telephone operator with laryngitis.

I made to hand the note back to Raphael, but he was kneeling in front of me, looking at the ground. Eventually, he stood up and held something in front of my face.

“Look at this,” he said.

“It’s a chocolate wrapper,” I said, because it was.

“It’s rubbish.” Raphael screwed up his face as he carefully folded the wrapper and placed it in a pocket of his robe.

“Can we get back to the subject of Phil?” I said, trying once more to return the note to Raphael.

“Oh, sorry,” he said, taking it from me. “It’s just that Heaven has become such a dirty place lately.”

“I understand.” Perhaps I lied just a tiny bit, but if Raphael wanted to believe that one piece of garbage on an otherwise pristine street made Heaven a dirty place, I was quite prepared to accept it. “So what do you think about this note?”

“I think it’s pretty clear. Phil was too busy to meet me.”

“Is that unusual?”

Raphael thought for a moment. “It’s funny you should ask that. Most people in Heaven seem to be too busy to meet me. They’re always washing their hair or mowing their lawn or changing the channel on their television. But not Phil. Phil’s usually the one who’ll always be there, rain, hail, or shine.”

“So why do you think he couldn’t make it this time? Do you have any idea what might be keeping him so busy?”

“Well, now that you mention it, I do recall Phil saying something about . . . ” Raphael’s voice petered out as he lost himself in his recollections.

“Something about what?”

“It was something about . . . ” Raphael seemed to be having a lot of trouble remembering. I began to wonder if he really couldn’t remember, or if he was perhaps too frightened to.

“Tell me.” I grabbed him by the shoulders, trying to shake the memory out of him.

“Oh my goodness, I just remembered,” he cried, jerking himself away from my grasp.

“What was it? What did Phil tell you?”

“It’s not about that. I just remembered my meals-on-wheels service was meant to start five minutes ago. Can you please take this? I have to go right now.”

Before I could say anything, I found myself standing alone in the middle of the school crossing, holding onto the stop sign as Raphael ran off down the street.

I stood there for quite a few minutes, just in case there were any stragglers.

* * *

On the way back to the office, I decided to make a pit stop at the first bar I could find. It had been almost twenty-four hours since I’d last had a drink. I needed alcohol.

Finding a bar in Heaven turned out to be as easy as tying your shoelaces using only your thumbs, or proving that the Mafia in conjunction with aliens killed JFK. After over an hour of searching, I eventually managed to locate a small tavern with the highly unpromising name The Loaf and the Fishes. I opened the door and stepped inside.

Having spent over a day in Heaven, I was beginning to get accustomed to its motifs. Bright and neat were two of the major ones, and this place specialised in both of them. Still, a drink was a drink. I parked myself at the bar and asked for a double scotch.

The barman was bright and neat too. He gave me a strange look once I’d completed my request.

“I’m very sorry, sir. We don’t serve whisky here,” he said.

“Okay, hit me with a large gin and tonic, and hold the tonic.”

“Nor do we serve gin.”

“All right. What about a beer?”

The barman chuckled. “I’m sorry, you don’t seem to understand. We do not serve any alcoholic beverages in this establishment.”

No grog! I leapt to my feet. “I’m sorry too. If you don’t serve alcoholic beverages, then you don’t serve me. I’ll just have to move my business to an establishment that does.”

“I wish you all the best sir, but I’m afraid you won’t find any suitable premises anywhere in Heaven.”

I collapsed onto the stool in shock. “You mean I can’t get a drink anywhere in Heaven?”

“I’m sorry, but that is the case. There are no liquor licenses in Heaven. Nor are there any vineyards, breweries, or elicit moonshine stills.”

“What can you serve me?”

“I can hit you with a gin and tonic and hold the gin. Or perhaps you would prefer a lemonade?”

“Yeah, whatever. I’ll take the last one,” I said, barely listening to either of the options. I was in a state of shock that would probably take me years to recover from.

The barman bought me a glass full of clear, bubbly liquid. I took a sip. The lolly-water tasted sickly sweet. I screwed up my face and pushed the glass aside.

“You’re new here,” said a voice beside me.

I turned. On the stool next to mine sat a middle-aged man. He was dressed in a shabby brown coat and trousers, and his face could have handled a wash and a shave and a fairly complete makeover. In other words, he was the most beautiful person I had ever seen.

“You’re new here,” he said again. “I haven’t seen you before, and I’ve got a great memory for faces.”

“You’re right,” I said, and I stuck my hand out. “Jimmy Clarenden.”

He shook my hand. “Alby Stark,” he said, and he handed me a card.