Curse Of The Angels

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                                               Chapter One

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"It was almost beautiful." the young man said, as he described what he saw to the policeman. They were in a roadside lay-bye where spectacular views of the coastline could be had. Earlier he and his girlfriend had been on a ledge a some way down and out of view of the road. "We were having a picnic when we saw he car - well we heard it first really; it was as though they had been trying to go as fast as they could. We couldn't see the road from down the cliff but we heard the sound of it crashing through the barrier."

      The policeman made his notes while the young man continued. "I looked up and I saw this car sailing through the air almost as if it was flying. it made such a beautiful curve and then nose-dived into the water.

      "And you miss, did you see it too?"

      The policeman noticed a slight colouring of her cheeks. "No, not quite. From my position I couldn't see it, but I heard it. The engine seemed to be going fast as it fell, and then there was this whoosh noise as it hit the water."

      "But you didn't see it?"

      "No; I was on my ... facing the other way."

      The policeman smiled as he made his note, knowing now what kind of a pick-nick the young couple had been having.

      A few miles away and some five days later, Jayna Thwaite, the woman passenger in the flying car opened her eyes. It was early in the morning, light just coming through the windows and though she was unaware of it the time, that small movement was about the only movement she could make. Indeed it was perhaps the only movement possible for she was almost entirely strapped up; her body broken from top to toe. Nevertheless that small movement and the sensor connected to her head was enough to trigger a bleeper to summon a nurse. She in turn was followed by a doctor, and the senior consultant in the local hospital.

      Quickly attempts to establish recognition were made. There seemed to be none. Though her eyes were open there was no certainty that she could see, any more than she could hear. She just lay there apparently comatose. It was decided to let sleeping patients lie and to see if later in the day a specialist might bring better results.

      Elsewhere - seven floors below where his wife had been during the last five days - Victor Thwaite lay in the morgue, still, frozen and naked in his dark airless cell. Little in the way of autopsy had been done, for like his wife his body was a broken mess, and none of the medical staff there was prepared to contest what was clearly obvious as the cause of his death.

      Back upstairs following the dawn the new day had miraculously transformed the condition of Jayna Thwaite. The moment the reflected rays of the sun caught her face her eyes opened, but this time instead of unmoving vacant staring they were looking everywhere, intelligently taking it all in. It during that busy time on the ward when everyone was busy prior to handing over to the day staff and no-one spotted a light flashing, and the panicky rush of people was not repeated. Jayna had been aware of their arrival earlier so in their absence she was able to take stock.

                Am I in a hospital - Yes!

                Am I badly injured - So it would seem!

                Am I still alive - Her answer was not immediate but eventually it                        came.       Yes!

               Am I alone - Don’t know; must find out.

      A little will power soon had her fingers moving. Good. Before long she could move her toes. Better. Soon, within the constriction of her bandages she could flex her arms and legs. So far so good, and surprisingly, no pain.

      It was time move to  she judged. She shouted out loud. The result was startling. In seconds her single bedroom was full of people milling around looking at the various machines, checking her pulse and blood pressure, and one young man was feeing around her nether regions checking for signs of toiletry activity.

      “That’s enough of that young man.” she told the startled medic. “OK, OK,” she continued. “Can you all just back off now?” she announced firmly. “Who’s in charge here?”

      “I am!” responded the young man who was shinning a torch into her eyes. Jayna thought he looked like a schoolboy.

      “OK, well you can stop that for a start, it’s giving me a headache.”

      “Yes of course; but this is remarkable - after all this time.”

      Jayna tried to sit up but her restraints prevented her from doing so. “After all this time?” she repeated the phrase. “how much time is that?”

      “It’s five days since you were brought in, virtually dead. We didn’t think we could save you, but look at you now.”

      Jayna was quiet for just a moment. “ And;” she paused, “and my husband?” another pause. “Where is my husband?”

      “He’s in the hospital too - but I’m afraid he didn’t make it.”

      “So where is he?”

      “In the morgue.” After another long wait during which nobody moved. She spoke. She didn’t shout but no one had any doubt that this lady would get her way.

      “Right. First thing, get these bandages off.”

      “But Mrs Thwaite - we can’t take them off - your injuries - you’ll not survive without them.”

      "Perhaps you'll allow me to be the judge of that." Mrs Thwaite scowled at the doctor. "Now will you kindly remove these restraints?"

      The doctor nodded to the nurses and carefully they removed the bandages. Little by little she was uncovered until only enough remained to maintain her modesty. Not once during this manoeuvre did the lady complain of any discomfort, much less pain. A gown was placed over her head and wriggled down until her body was covered allowing the remaining bandages to be removed.

      Throughout this procedure Mrs Thwaite had uttered not a word. Her eyes had remained closed and only those movements which had been       unavoidable in pursuant of the task at hand were evident. Now she lay there as if waiting for something to happen, and all those in the room stood silently waiting with her. After some minutes she lifted herself and turned allowing her legs to drop down the side of the bed until she was in a sitting position, and then, with only the briefest pause she stood up.

      Everyone was aghast, unbelieving, for just a few short days earlier virtually every bone in her body had been broken, and no one had expected her to survive. But there she was, on her feet and seemingly completely free from pain.

      "I can't believe it." The young doctor said, clearly shocked. "You should be in agony."

      “Never mind about that. I would like to see my husband: please!"

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                                                  Chapter Two

The journey between Upper Level Four and Basement Level Three was a curious one for for this unexpectedly gathered party. The Assistant Registrar, the doctor, the senior nurse,  the  and one or two members of the medical staff, a porter and a nurse.. And of course Mrs Thwaite who was, in spite of her protest, in a wheelchair. 

      "Please Mrs Thwaite." The doctor had almost pleaded. Despite your remarkable recovery you are still a patient and the hospital insists that all patient movement is by wheelchair or trolley."

      "OK if you insist, but this is for you and not me."

      So the wheelchair was sent for and a porter to push it. The Consultant and the Registrar had been alerted and had both agreed to meet them in the bowels of the hospital where the morgue was hidden away. Only the sound of footsteps and a slight squeak from one of the pushchair wheels accompanied the procession as it negotiated the long corridors above and below, and the lift in between. Finally they reached the morgue where the two senior personal were waiting for them as promised. 

      One of them was the registrar, and an administrator who was clearly unhappy with this situation. 

      "This is very irregular you know." he was quick to point out.

      "Is that so?" Jayna sprang forward and in one easy movement freed herself from the wheelchair. "Irregular is it; for a wife to see her husband; and who is going to identify him if not me?

      "Well, we did not expect you to be available for that task." The registrar had risen to his full height, "In fact we w ere wondering who was going to identify you."

      "Charming! What made you think you would need to?"

      "Your injuries Mrs Thwaite, your injuries. Nobody gave you more than a one percent of one percent chance of survival when you were brought in, yet here you are now, miraculously restored, and not even a headache."

      "I guess I got lucky." she replied curtly. "Now can I please see my husband?"

      "Of course but I must remind you that although the Post Morten was brief and routine there have been some surgical procedures - for training purposes you understand - in addition to the injuries sustained in the crash. It will not be pretty."

      "Yes of course; let's go."

The party, which had steadily increased in numbers, was led to a line of lockers and from one of them a body was drawn out on a trolley. The cover was removed down to the waist and multiple pairs of eyes focused first on it and then on Mrs Thwaite.

      "OK, that's him. Wrap him up and let's get him home."

      The people in the room were aghast.

      "Take him home?" said the registrar. "No way."

      "Take him home?" said the consultant. "He's dead."

      "Take him home?" said the doctor from the morgue. Not until I have signatures on at least half a dozen documents.

      The others in the party including the nurse and the porter were not asked to offer an opinion.

      Despite her formidable personality and strength of character, Mrs Thwaite had to concede to the formalities of medical ethics, and the law. The half dozen documents were signed which kept the registrar happy. A death certificate was produced which kept the consultant happy, and arrangements were made for the body to be transported to a chapel of rest to lie in state, at least to lie with a certain degree of respectability which made Jayna happy. Also, considering it's five day incarceration the body of Victor Thwaite was also happy. Somehow it almost went unnoticed that despite his recent experience, and notwithstanding the doctors warning, he looked, and was, in remarkably good condition. 

      Only the nurse and the porter were unhappy. She because she knew that there was something 'up'. She had nursed Mrs Thwaite since she had arrived; and knew her injuries. Despite the show she was putting on she knew that she would not last long if she carried out her threat to sign herself out of hospital. Even more now, having seen Mr Thwaite's body in what might be called a very good state of repair; she was even more ill at ease, more convinced than ever that something was not quite right.

      "Why?" she was asking herself, "could the doctors not see what was so clear to me." There was no doubt in her mind. She was sure, despite his injuries, and despite being in a freezer for all this time, and despite the official declarations and despite everything else, she was sure, 'dead' sure that Mr Thwaite was still alive.

      The porter cared for none of these things, but he was unhappy too. This little outing had taken him way past his normal finishing time and his boss was very mean when it came to paying for overtime.

      But disregarding his feelings and the nurses unease Mrs Thwaite went ahead and signed herself out and left the hospital followed shortly by her ‘dead’ husband in a large unmarked van, destined for a Funeral Director’s office..

      Two days later Mrs Thwaite, carrying a large shopping bag, called at the Funeral Director's office to discuss the necessary arrangements. Naturally while there she visited her husband who was now installed in an open casket. "To pay," she told the funeral director, "my last respects."  Later, while they were busy making decisions about which casket was appropriate and which hymns might be sung a tall well dressed man of uncertain age left the premises.

      Later in the day Mr and Mrs Thwaite embraced each other. Neither of them bore the scars of their recent 'tragic' accident, nor was there any evidence of anything but perfect health. Some time later at a place on the other side of town the Thwaites settled into their home while detectives were looking into the case of a possible body snatching. They were not being helped by the funeral director's agitation. Neither were they being helped by his memory or his notes, both of which were inexplicably incomplete.

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                                                   Chapter Three

Victor and Jayna found their new, if anonymous fame, somewhat threatening so a move to another town as soon as they could seemed to be a sensible option. They had watched intently the bulletins of the police search for the missing body, at first with a certain apprehension, and later with a gradually growing amusement.

      Just the same, although they knew that there was no way the hand of the long arm of the law could tap their shoulders, they also knew that if they were apprehended by some freak of circumstance, any story they could make up would be more believable than the truth, whatever that may turn out to be.

      Best they thought, that they should just disappear. But running away proved not to be the answer for that only meant taking their burden with them, something from which, they both knew, they would never be able to escape. For there was a much bigger question to answer, one they had been avoiding, but one that they simply could not continue to ignore. Indeed, due to the public interest caused by Victor’s 'dead' body disappearing, coverage of that incident had inevitably spilled over to their spectacular accident. The proliferation of mobile phone cameras had inspired a surprising number of people, on the cliff top or below, to capture the moment. Pictures of the flying car were soon on the internet; yards and yards of video footage and still pictures of the crash scene were there for all to see from every possible angle. Every aspect had been examined in fine detail looking for something that might help to explain the inexplicable.

      The conclusion by various experts was that it should not have been possible for them to survive.

      Impossible perhaps, but not only had they survived, but more than that, neither had suffered so much as a scratch.

      Victor and Jayna knew that the answer was beyond the parameters of normal human existence, but only Victor knew precicely what the problem was, and only he also knew the solution. The solution however was not  one that was easily available. Paradoxically while Jayna did not know the problem, she knew more than Victor thought she knew. She had managed to absorb from her 'Granny' an ability to see beyond what everyone else could see and a slight but curious understanding of the answer had formed. She knew that if she was right the answer that had formed in her mind in relation to the question in Victor's mind was staggering. It was quite beyond her ability to link one with the other. On one point however she was clear. Sooner or later the question must be asked; and moreover it must be answered.

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                                                  Chapter Four

Six months or so elapsed since the affair hit the headlines and the media had long since lost interest in 'The case of the body snatcher.' Other people and other cases had come to the fore; cases where the puzzle could at least be solved, cases that came to a natural conclusion, cases where someone could be blamed, and pay the price.

      Victor and Jayna were now settled in their new home and life was returning to something like normal; normal that is except for the question that neither of them wanted to ask, or the answer which both of then knew must come, despite its unbelievability.

      It was only a matter of time, and though neither of them knew it that time was not very far off.

      When the talking started it came unexpectedly and spectacularly. And then, when the genie was out of the bottle it could not be returned.

      Their new home was the catalyst. Actually it was quite old and it needed a good deal of attention; nothing major, but lots of small jobs. Victor, despite his considerable wealth enjoyed 'doing things' and  still seemed young enough to take on most DIY jobs. He had set about it methodically, and gradually the list got shorter until it came eventually to the TV Ariel. This job had in fact been relegated down the list a couple of times, but this time Victor took a firm stance and decided that as it was a nice day, and that as it would only need to be done once, now was as good a time as ever.

      The house was an old two floor plus an attic detached building, and at some time in the past the loft had been converted into a bedroom, with sloping ceiling and a wide Dormer window. Victor had no ladder but he reckoned he could easily gain access to the roof through the Dormer and from there to the chimney stack to which the old ariel was attached. And so it proved. Soon the new ariel was in place and the old one tied with string ready to be disposed of. But it was the tying that was to be his downfall. As he made his way back to the Dormer a trailing length of string found its way under a roof tile and jammed. Victor gave it a good strong pull whereupon the tile flew into the air, and Victor, not meeting the resistance he had anticipated was unbalanced. He grabbed for the side of the Dormer, but missed causing him to dive unceremoniously head first onto the stone path at the front of the house. Anyone witnessing the fall would have known at once that there was no hope for Victor, and Jayna, rushing out when she heard his cry was in the same mind when she saw his lifeless body.

      Something stopped her sending for an ambulance, but just what that was she would have found hard to explain, but it was connected to ‘that’ question and ‘that’ answer. Instead she dragged the dead weight of her husband into the house and laid him out in the front room where he stayed for the rest of the day and night.

      "So he's dead again." she told herself. But she could not bring herself to take the next move and inform the authorities which she knew would lead her back to police inquiries into the mystery of the missing body.

      It was a long and sleepless night, but by the time she raised herself she had decided that, come what may, she would have to let someone know what had happened. Eventually she went downstairs whereupon she experienced another massive shock, for Victor was nowhere to be seen. Shock number two came when she heard the toilet flush followed by the sounds of footsteps on the stairs. Victor emerged.

      "My word I've got such a headache this morning - got any paracetamol?

Jayna took her husband to the settee and sat him down. She made him a cup of tea and pushed a couple of pain killers out of their foil pack. Then she sat down before him.

      "I'm not going to move from this chair until we sort this out." she told him firmly.

      "What's to sort out?" he said.

      "You know very well. And if you are not going to tell me, when I walk out of this house you will never see me again.

      Victor looked around uneasily, seemingly looking for a hook on which to hang his story. "The trouble is I don't know where to start." he said quietly.

      "How about the beginning?"

      "Ha! The beginning; now there's a concept to conjure with. Have you any notion of what the 'beginning' means?"

      Now that he had started Victor was starting to find his tongue. "What do you think the 'beginning' means? he repeated. Jayna sat and waited. "Is it the beginning of the day; the week; the month; the year?" He stopped waiting for a challenge, but there was none.

      "A century then, the Big Bang, the beginning of time; eternity even?"

      "You're telling the story - you tell me." Jayna said, a little tetchily.

      It was a long time before Victor spoke again, as though he had been trying to work out what to say. "When I have finished I doubt that you will ever speak to me again." he muttered.

      "Maybe so but I must know. You've died on me twice - how many more times?"

      "Let's not forget that you died on me as well." Victor said, as though it was some kind of bargaining chip.

      But Jayna was equal to the challenge. "Let's not forget that I never actually died. And in any case you were already dead, so you were not supposed to know whether I died or not."

      "Yes yes, let's not quibble over details."

      "Well don't prevaricate."

      There was another long pause before Victor started to talk again. "OK, this is it then." There were clear signs that Victor was suffering and he looked at Jayna, hoping perhaps for some sign that might bring his torment to an end. There was none and Victor was forced to continue.

      "I expect you know the story of the Flying Dutchman. The mariner who was condemned to sail the high seas, coming ashore for only one day every hundred years, desperately hoping that in that one day he would find a woman who would love him enough to sail away with him, to die for him and thus end his curse. But that woman would know that as they sailed away at the end of that once in a century day, she would not be spending eternity with the man of her dreams, but that their lives would come to an end as that day ended."

      Victor looked up briefly, "That's a very powerful love." he muttered, almost as though he was speaking to himself. "But," he continued, "that was just a story; a bit of theatre, but it was not new; almost like yesterday!. The real story goes back centuries, more centuries than you can imagine."

      "OK, but how does that affect us?"

      "Well here's the gist of it. Way way way back, back to the time of new life developing, even before the ancient civilisations and long before people had any concept of god as we know it, they worshipped all manner of things. But by and by there emerged a class of people who could see beyond what others could see and in time the concept of an all seeing god emerged, and of the mythical places like heaven and hell. Long before Christianity, indeed long before all the religious names we know today, there were many gods and people then knew nothing of the universe, or indeed the world. The only things the ordinary population of those civilisations knew about in those times was themselves."

      Victor paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. "So it came about that over time the concept of something like heaven became a reality in the minds of men - as did hell, where sinners could repent or be dammed to the eternal fires of Hades."

      "Now here's the thing! Victor continued, “Somewhere along the line God, or someone in high office, decided that all the troubles of the earth were caused by sex. At least among those forms of life for which sex was no longer required only for the purposes of procreation. That ruled out pretty well all life except humans, and as far as we know the Angels started out as humans.

      Once again Victor looked up, expecting that Jayna would be either fast asleep or completely bored. She was neither and a nod of her head encouraged him to continue.

      "The upshot was that sex was banned in heaven."

      This time Jayna did respond. "I always thought that angels were neutral sexually speaking, you know, neither one nor the other."

      "Perhaps they are, but perhaps they weren't always, I don't know; but anyway we are getting near to the point of the story. Maybe it took time for angels to become sexless, but eventually they became that way. But it seems that it did not work completely from the start, for after the rule was established two of them were caught 'in-flegrante-delecto' and were ejected from heaven."

      "Are you saying that they were sent to hell?"

      “You will see; but I guess it means that there are many kinds of hell. But no!, not hell; at least not as we think of it. No, they were banished to earth to live here for eternity unless they could find someone who loved them enough to change places and so break the curse; to allow them to die and return to heaven."

      Jayna sat up as though stung. "The Flying Dutchman." she murmured.     "Was he one of them?"

      "No, he was the product of someone's imagination, but somehow he must have found out about this story of damnation and used it as a plot for his story."

      "Wow," Jayna muttered. "But I still can't see where we fit into this?"

      "I'm coming to that soon. You see once the Flying Dutchman found his mate that fictional story was over, but it was not so in the story I am telling."

      "It's not?"

      "Far from it."

      "How so?"

      "Because you see, whoever agreed to take the place of the banished ones so they could die,  simply swap places. The new partner becomes condemned themselves for all eternity unless he or she could find another who would love them with a love strong enough to sacrifice their lives. It simply starts again like a never ending curse. Each person in turn would have to search for a willing victim, and then the next person, and so on forever."

      "Forever!"

      "For all time! There is no way to end it."

There was a long silence before Jayna felt able to ask the question that had started to form in her mind.

      “And you Victor? How do you fit into this story?"

      "I'm the latest in the line of victims. I have been searching for nearly three hundred and fifty years to find someone who would love me above all other things."

      "And me?"

      "I had hoped that you might be that person."

      "Is that all you wanted me for - a way out?" Jayna almost shouted, her softness replaced with anger.

      "No, no! That would not work. Don't you see it has to be proper love, pure and genuine love both ways. Without that the curse would remain. Without true selfless love I cannot die and return to heaven."

      Their conversation had drifted into the late hours, and it was clear that they both needed time to consider the implications of Victor's story. But Jayna could not sleep and as the sun started to rise so did she. Victor followed soon, also unable to sleep. Not surprisingly the cause of their sleeplessness was the same, but in a curious way opposite. On the one hand Victor, now living in the fourth century of his exile was concerned that he might lose Jayna. He really did love her and he was certain that she loved him too. But even though they had been together for many years he had never felt that 'the time' had arrived to ask the big question. The question which leaves all other questions - so loved by the romantics - light years behind. Now he wondered if he ever would, ever could, ask that question.

      He had blown it once again. For the question had to be asked and consent given freely and with sincerity. Without that the curse could not be revoked. In all the years Victor had been trapped in this time warp, never ageing but mysteriously always modern he had met and had affairs with many women; even married a few of them, but none had loved him so deeply as the make the ultimate sacrifice. More than one had run away screaming when the proposition had been made, never to be seen again. He learned to judge early on in a new relationship if there was a likelihood of success, and over time the 'no's' quickly developed an unassailable lead over the 'maybe’s'. Even amongst the fewer 'yes's' the unnatural nature of it all placed a strain on the relationships which in the end had always proved to be too great to sustain.

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                                                    Chapter Five

And so the years went by, and the decades, and the centuries. Oh how he cursed when he thought of that woman who had so captivated him some three hundred and fifty years before; the woman who so stole his heart that he declared that he would happily die for her. Such foolishness to pay the ultimate price for a few nights of passion. How could he have known? The curse of The Flying Dutchman as we know it now, was still a long long way from appearing on the world stage.

      Neither could he know that the beautiful woman he gave is heart and soul for had been searching for just the kind the love he brought for over four hundred years. And yet it had been love that brought them together, true love, proper love. Though she had been at pains to ensure that Victor understood what he was about to do, he could not deny her and had gone willingly to his nightmare.

      For Jayna there was no such knowledge of her background. Indeed she had no memory at all of her young life for she seemed to have emerged from a void. She had no real concept of her age and her only memory was of and old lady whom she referred to as 'Granny', who had found her in an orphanage when she was about twelve.

      Granny told Jayna how it came about. She had been walking nearby when a group of girls were making the way back from some outing, laughing and talking as girls do, but one of them, a girl with the light olive tones of Mediterranean shores was silent. Despite her lack of words Granny was entranced for as they passed her she was convinced that someone was communicating with her. And when she looked into the eyes of the silent one she knew at once that it was she. The message was a brief one.

      "Help me."

      For a few days Granny spent whatever spare time she had around the orphanage until eventually she saw her again. She was with three other girls and Granny followed them until they reached a nearby street market. Standing closely behind the girl Granny concentrated her thoughts. "How can I help you?" For a while nothing happened, but then the young girl turned around and looked directly at Granny.

      "Take me with you."

      That was the start of it and about a year later Jayna was adopted by Mrs Smith. In time she was to learn that Granny was gifted with an ability to read peoples minds and also to help people to read and to understand their own deepest thoughts. Thus it was that Jayna 'remembered' that she had been a child bride in one of the Arabian countries. For all her tender years he had been a good husband and she had learned to love him deeply, and would agree to his every request. Shortly after that they came to England where he died unexpectedly and she found herself to be both a widow and an orphan at the young age of twelve.

      There were lots of things that emerged during her years with Granny Smith one which was that she had 'borrowed' the name Smith to give herself some anonymity. Granny Seeton was her true name, but had never revealed her Christian name.  Much of her wisdom seemed to be from times before where she felt she had lived other lives, but most of that she could not remember and it slowly faded from her memory.

      Victor and Jayna settled down once more into a period of domestic bliss. They were happy together but Jayna knew that they were approaching a crossroad. Had not something from Victor's past intervened they would have very likely spent the rest of their lives together forever. Would it be forever? But it was a truce, they both knew that! Curiously however it was a truce that was brought to an end by Granny Seeton.

      Jayna had stayed with Granny until she was twenty at which time she was 'encouraged' to go out into the world and find herself. This she did but had maintained contact with Granny especially now she discovered that the old lady was 93 and was in failing health. It was feared unlikely that she would see another New Year. She had received a message and immediately she packed a bag and went to her.

      "My Granny was one of those who was said to have 'the gift'.” she told Victor. “She could see into people's minds and tell them things that they thought only they knew, or even things they didn't know. She could read your palm and contact the dead. When I was first with her she used to tell me things, and I would tell my school friends and she was always right. After I had grown up and moved on I used to visit her when I could and she would tell me other things. Things I didn't understand then and still don't. She told me once my life was not like others. That I will never marry again, but that there will be a special man. Another time she told me that I will never grow old and I thought she meant I would die young, but another time she told me I will never die, so I didn't know what to make of that. It's a very weird thing to say to a person; but of course she is a weird old lady."

      Jayna was away a few days but when she returned it was clear to Victor that she was in a very confused state of mind.

      "Well?" he enquired, "how is 'Granny?'

      "Oh, she's OK. Never was in any real danger I don't think."

      "Then why did she send for you?"

      " She just wanted to see me I suppose. It's a while since we've seen each other and I guess she just wanted to know if all was well.

      "Ha!" Victor responded "That's a joke. Did you tell her everything?"

      "No, not everything, in fact as little as possible. I told her about the accident and that we were both in hospital, but not much about the other thing."

      "Better that way."

      Jayna had a very curios expression on her face as she looked into her handbag and fished out some newspaper cuttings. They were articles about the accident and the disappearance of a body. "She knows anyway!" She said.

      "How does she know?"

      "I don't know, but she told me a lot more."

      "What did she tell you." With his very long experience of humans, meeting them in every circumstance and without the human vulnerability it allowed him to enter into the lives of people from whom he might otherwise have been excluded, Victor was generally sceptical of fanciful statements.

       "She told me a story about an Angels curse."

 

                                                    Chapter Six

Victor and Jayna were once again happy to express their love for each other. The events at and following their crash into the sea had put a great strain on them both but now they were free. Just the same knowing how best to use their knew found situation was not easy. Although they felt no need to hurry there was at the same time a sense of urgency. They had waited so long each in their own way to escape from the curse set by the Angels so many centuries before. How many people had become entrapped by this heavenly evil they did not, and never would, know. But now, miraculously, it had come to them, the latest victims following the original banishments. The final victims but with the knowledge and the power two to end it - for all time.

      "Canny lass that Granny of yours." Victor said quietly, as though he had been mulling it over. "Fancy her coming up with the answer."

      Jayna paused before replying. "I think that there is more to it. I don't think it was coincidence that she was at the orphanage; I think she was drawn there."

      "Could be but now she's gone we'll never know. Funny thing; she was very ill after all." he said thoughtfully. "That was the reason she sent for you after all."

      "I think that she deliberately didn't tell me what the two Angels meant to me, but perhaps enough for us to work it out."

      "But she did tell us the main thing." Victor contested, "That when those angels were banished the trail from one of them led to me, and the other led to you. Don’t you see?" He paused for a moment before he continued.   “When you were a child bride your husband must have been the last in his line of ‘victims’.  You have told me that although you were were young you loved him deeply. So, when he died without any reason or proper explanation you were the next.”

       "At least it explains why we didn't both die at the crash. and also why I appeared to be dead until you 'recovered'. Perhaps if we had known about each other and had declared ourselves to each other, we would have died there and then."

      Victor and  Jayna had reached a kind of plateau. Somehow time didn't matter any more. They could carry on as they were if they wished but there was still a question to be answered. For while he had lived for hundreds of years, she had not. Now it was up to her to answer the question, and for victor his role was to support her, to love her, but never, never ever, was he to influence her as to that decision. To do so would not only risk reviving the curse, but would see the both dammed for eternity once more.

       Some the time passed leisurely and happily and then the day came when they were on a nostalgia trip in their brand new sports car; it was a perfect day and the hood was down, and as sometimes happens  another force seemed to invade them, one topic of conversation was uppermost.

       "Lets do it now." Jayna shouted.

       "But only if we were truly in love." added Victor.  

       "Truly madly deeply!" she shouted again , a little surprised at the familiarity of those words. "I want to do it now."

       "So do I." Victor laughed out loud, the sound being torn from him by the wind. "Are you sure?"

       "Yes, yes, yes."

       "After all the years chance has brought us together so we can release each other from the curse - we've beaten it." He turned and smiled at Jayna, her hair flying behind her as the car sped along the coast road. "This is the sweetest goodbye, but you do know I love you don't you?"

      Jayna snuggled a little closer to Victor, "I do, I do, I do; and it is a bit like the Flying Dutchman isn't it?"

      "Certainly is, and we'll soon be there."

      They were on an incline and the road followed a curving path as demanded by the coast road topography, and as they reached the crest the beautiful sweep of the bay opened up before them. On the other side of the crest the long down slope of the road ahead beckoned to them. Victor put his foot down hard until all they could hear was the sound of the wind. It seemed to be saying 'Let the sports car show you what it can do'. 'Feel the exhilaration of allowing it to do what it does best'.

      Away from the car it was a warm day with just a gentle breeze. A succession of breakers stretched out towards the horizon as though the sea was trying to halt the outgoing tide. Along the coast the cliffs rose high from their rock strewn base as the sea birds darted in and out.

      It was idyllic. "You ready?" shouted Victor.

      "Yes." Shouted Jayna as loud as she could as Victor pushed his foot down to the floor.

​

                                                        Chapter Seven

In their favourite place somewhat below and out of sight of the pull-in where the glorious coastline vista could be seen to advantage, a not quite so young couple were just about at the crucial point of their amorous endeavours when they heard a sound they had heard some years before. The sound of the safety barrier being smashed through where the road bends at the end of a long decline, before it swung with the curve of the bay before starting to climb again to the next brow and the next magnificent view.

      Quickly, despite their preoccupation they managed to turn around in time to see a red sports car describing a beautiful arc in the air, as it fell to the rocks below. But more than that this time they also heard sounds; sounds like people shouting and screaming.

      Some time later in the day a police car stopped at the lay-by, it's sole occupant searching for witnesses to the crash. The couple were back at their car waiting patiently and ready to tell what they had seen.

      "It was almost beautiful. "Jack was eager to say; at which point the policeman stopped him. "Don't I know you?" he asked. "I'm sure I recognise that phrase.

      "Sure you do, don't you remember; quite a long time ago, another car had gone over the edge just like this one and you came to speak to us about it."

      "Yes that's right. I remember; you were having a - er 'picnic' if I remember correctly. Is that right miss?"

      "Miss smiled. Older and wiser now, no longer was she abashed by the idea that he might know the nature of their picnics. "Yes, a picnic. But I got a better view this time." she smiled again, accompanied by what was almost a giggle.

      The policeman smiled back as he tried to visualise the scene. Then he shook his head to clear away the image of them 'at it' on a ledge less than fifty yards away.

      "It was just like the last time the young man said, except this time we could hear them."

      "What did you hear?"

      "It was like screaming and shouting." the young lady interrupted.

      "Well I'm not surprised. It's a long way down; I guess I would be frightened too."

      "No, that's not what I mean. I don't think it was like that." she insisted. "It was more like the sound people make when the are on one of the big rides at a fairground."

      "Yeah." added the young man. "It was more like excitement than fear, as though they didn't seem to care that they were probably falling to their deaths."

      “Thank you for your help. Hope all this didn't spoil your, er, picnic." he said as he got into his car.

      Just before the policeman pulled away the young man stopped him. "I kind of remember It was in the news that the people in the car last time got away with it. Do you think that they will be as lucky this time?"

      "No; I’ve just been talking to a colleague down there and he told me that there are no survivors this time," he said as he slowly pulled away.

      In his car the policeman did not see the flash of lightning nor hear the crack of thunder as two white clouds moved quickly across an otherwise clear blue sky.