‘Well, I don’t believe in either God or demons,’ he said. ‘Do you?’
Rita didn’t want to talk about demons in her bedsit. It was far safer, she felt, not to bring up such a subject.
‘Do you want sugar in your hot chocolate?’ she asked instead.
Henry sat on the couch with a tired sigh. His legs felt heavy and his heart even more so. He would do anything to climb into his warm comfortable bed and lay his weary body on the memory foam mattress.
‘Just one teaspoon,’ he said. ‘Maybe it will help with the shock.’
‘You’ve had a shock?’ exclaimed Rita.
‘I travelled back in time.’
‘You did?’
Rita tried not to look disbelieving. She hoped Henry wouldn’t say he’d found a time machine.
‘I walked into my wardrobe and went back to when Imogen and I were first married. A very strange experience.’
‘Lots of strange things are happening to you,’ she said.
Rita placed a tablemat onto the table and sat the hot chocolate onto it.
‘I just don’t know what to do,’ said Henry.
‘Perhaps you just need to wait,’ suggested Rita. Henry wasn’t sure what he was supposed to wait for. He stroked his chin thoughtfully and then said,
‘I rather thought you could help me.’
‘Me?’ questioned Rita, surprised.
Rita wanted to help Henry but wasn’t at all sure what she could do. It seemed to her that trying to fix being dead was an impossible task. If only it were his dyspepsia, she thought. That would have been so much easier. The pharmacy at the supermarket sold loads of things for that and Rita could get them at discount price. That was one of the good things about working at the supermarket. Unfortunately, the pharmacy didn’t sell anything that brought the dead back to life.
‘I don’t see how I can help,’ she said gently. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt Henry’s feelings.
She glanced at the red electric bars. She couldn’t turn them off without appearing rude, especially not with poor Henry wet through. Not that it mattered, supposed Rita. He couldn’t very well catch pneumonia and die. So, perhaps she could turn them off after all.
‘I’ll get a blanket,’ she said, falling to her knees.
Henry taken aback, sat forward, spilling some hot chocolate onto his already damp trousers. Rita pulled out a drawer from under the bed and rummaged through it.
Very handy, Henry thought.
‘I was sure I had a thicker blanket. Will this be alright instead?’
Rita removed a grey and white checked blanket and handed it to Henry.
‘It’s not as warm as my other one. I don’t know why it isn’t here.’
‘This is perfect,’ said Henry.
‘Only it’s quite expensive to keep the heater on.’
Immediately she regretted mentioning it.
‘Oh,’ said Henry, taking the blanket.
It had never occurred to him to think of the cost. The heating was always on in their house. Henry didn’t believe in being cold.
