‘Farewell, Josie-Mum,’ said Virgo, placing her own tribute on the grave. ‘I’m presenting you with this torch. It seemed infinitely more practical than flowers. You always showed me great kindness and I wish you well in the Afterlife. You are a super-optimal mortal.’

Dave squeezed Elliot’s hand, then went forward and knelt by his wife’s resting place.

‘I love you, Jo,’ he faltered, placing a single white rose on the ground. ‘I’m here now. I’ve got him. Sleep well, beautiful. Until next time.’

He kissed his fingertips and placed them lightly on the rose. For a moment he paused, his eyes closed, saying some silent words to his wife. Then he stood up and returned to Elliot with a smile.

‘She’s tucked in nice and tight,’ he said, holding Elliot to him and whispering into his hair. ‘Shall we let her have a bit of peace and quiet? We can visit her again tomorrow. Every day, if you like. I know she’ll want to hear what we’re up to. You know – check we’re eating right. Washing. All that gross stuff.’

Elliot wiped the tears from his cheek and looked up at his dad. Suddenly he felt it . . .

The inner smile. His mum kissing his head. She was still with him.

And for the first time in as long as he could remember, Elliot Hooper just knew that everything was going to be OK.

25. Boiling Over

25. Boiling Over

Virgo was unsure how to analyse her feelings about her last full day on Earth. The Zodiac Council had been quite clear – the first condition of her return to Elysium was that she was forbidden from travelling to Earth ever again. Virgo felt this was a little overzealous – after all, things hadn’t turned out that badly in the end. But if she wanted to rejoin her colleagues in her heavenly home, she was to recommence her duties as Guardian of the Stationery Cupboard and all talk of Earthbound missions was out of the question.

There were, of course, many reasons to be glad about leaving the mortal realm behind. Never again would she be forced to feign interest in twenty-two people kicking a ball around a field. The phrase ‘I’d give it a minute’ would be a thing of the past. And she would never have to deal with the inhumane torture of eating a Brussels sprout ever again.

And yet, the prospect of returning to Elysium didn’t feel nearly as optimal as she had anticipated. Surely the endless days of pleasing herself would be a good thing? The hole punches weren’t going to reorder themselves, and she would eternally be spared the indignity of having to share a bathroom with Elliot . . .

Elliot.