Dead Calm

“Geoff’s dad died yesterday, so he won’t be in until Monday.”

“Blast. We needed him in for this meeting. I’ll have to cover then. What time are we meeting them?”

Such a casual comment barely intersected with the reality that somebody had lost a loved one. Of course, eavesdropping isn’t exactly the most moral of activities, but that never stops me.

Sitting enjoying my lunch I couldn’t have missed what these two were discussing. They were right behind me and – as we say in this part of the world – fond of their own voices.

Very fond.

By now I’d got their measure. Serious minded career men: that’s how they’d like to think of themselves. Shiny suited used car salesmen with limited imagination and even less humanity is how I thought of them.

“Yeah. Cancer, I think. Anyway, that proposal he was working on needs a lot of tidying up, Tim. You up to it?”

“Of course. You can count on me.”

It was hard to listen to this. Somewhere, not a million miles away, some guy was mourning the loss of his father. In one moment his life was changed forever and his work colleagues were measuring that loss in the number of minutes’ extra work they’d have to do.

I did my best to forget about their comments and concentrated on the serious business of chowing down. It didn’t take much concentrating, to be honest. As the two used car dealers – excuse me, businessmen – stood up to go, I felt a wave of relief come over me. Their careless attitude towards human life seemed callous. Never once had they discussed how Geoff might have been feeling. Never once did they express any empathy for the guy.

“I’ll bring the car round, Tim. You wait here. It’s absolutely foul outside. No point both of us being soaked.”

“Right. I’ll take care of the bill then – Bill”

The slightly forced laughter suggested that little joke had been played out many, many times in the past.

I was tucking into dessert when there was an almighty crash outside. There had been a car crash right outside the restaurant.

Ghouls. That’s what people are. Still, I can talk. Carnage and destruction and a crowd appreciating the unfolding drama. I have to admit I was one of the crowd. Ghoulish spectators.

Of course, the accident involved Bill. He’d lost control in the rain and ploughed into a parked truck. Died instantly they say. Wouldn’t have felt much, they say. Notify his family, they say.

Tim just nods wordlessly. He looks shocked.

When he takes out his mobile I feel sorry that he’s going to be the one to deliver the awful news. I imagine that Bill’s wife is a caring wife and a good mother. His children will take it hard. I wonder if they will take time off work?

“Martin? Tim. I’ve got some bad news, I’m afraid. Bill’s had a car crash and – well – it’s bad. No. No, he isn’t. He’s dead, Martin.”

I can only imagine how Martin is coping with that news over the phone. The shock will probably make him numb for a few minutes.

“No, of course not. I’ve got all the paperwork with me. Don’t worry; I can cover the presentation with my eyes closed. That account is as good as ours.”

So, not talking to Bill’s relatives then.

“Martin. If it’s not too soon to ask; after I bag this account can we schedule a time to discuss where I go from here? You can count on me. I can handle all of Bill’s accounts. No problem.”

The phone call is interrupted by the police officer who needs a little more information. Tim puts his phone away.

I realize there is nothing more to hear. My own pager is beeping. I’m needed for my next appointment in about a week. I always get plenty of notice. It gives me time to get to know my clients. Learn a little about them. Sometimes even eat with them. Or near them. Eavesdropping is so useful, sometimes.

Watching Tim drive off in a taxi I smile. There are times my job makes me sad. But my next client was going to make me very happy. Very happy indeed. Tim didn’t know it yet, but he was my next client. Unfortunately for him.

Call me an old softie, but as the angel of death I don’t always want to take people. Not always.

But taking Tim would be my pleasure.

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Author’s note: I haven’t posted many stories for a long time on here and I thought it was about time I started posting a few more. This particular story started out as a commentary on just how callous people can be when someone dies (the conversation was a real one I overheard).

But I couldn’t work out where to take this and after letting my mind wander I decided to make the narrator the angel of death. Probably because I’ve seen a film recently called Click, which has a shop assistant who turns out to be the angel of death.