Good Omens

“I don’t think you need to go worryin’,” said Adam gnomically. “I know all about you two. Don’t you worry.”

He looked at the rest of the Them, who tried not to back away. He seemed to think for a while, and then he said, “There’s been too much messin’ around anyway. But it seems to me everyone’s goin’ to be a lot happier if they forget about this. Not actually forget, just not remember exactly. An’ then we can go home.”

“But you can’t just leave it at that!” said Anathema, pushing forward. “Think of all the things you could do! Good things.”

“Like what?” said Adam suspiciously.

“Well … y

ou could bring all the whales back, to start with.”

He put his head on one side. “An’ that’d stop people killing them, would it?”

She hesitated. It would have been nice to say yes.

“An’ if people do start killing ’em, what would you ask me to do about ’em?” said Adam. “No. I reckon I’m getting the hang of this now. Once I start messing around like that, there’d be no stoppin’ it. Seems to me, the only sensible thing is for people to know if they kill a whale, they’ve got a dead whale.”

“That shows a very responsible attitude,” said Newt.

Adam raised an eyebrow.

“It’s just sense,” he said.

Aziraphale patted Crowley on the back. “We seem to have survived,” he said. “Just imagine how terrible it might have been if we’d been at all competent.”

“Um,” said Crowley.

“Is your car operational?”

“I think it might need a bit of work,” Crowley admitted.

“I was thinking that we might take these good people into town,” said Aziraphale. “I owe Madame Tracy a meal, I’m sure. And her young man, of course.”

Shadwell looked over his shoulder, and then up at Madame Tracy.

“Who’s he talking aboot?” he asked her triumphant expression.

Adam rejoined the Them.

“I reckon we’ll just be gettin’ home,” he said.

“But what actually happened?” said Pepper. “I mean, there was all this—”

“It doesn’t matter any more,” said Adam.

“But you could help so much—” Anathema began, as they wandered back to their bikes. Newt took her gently by the arm.

“That’s not a good idea,” he said. “Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of our lives.”

“Do you know,” she said, “of all the trite sayings I’ve ever really hated, that comes top?”

“Amazing, isn’t it,” said Newt happily.

“Why’ve you got ‘Dick Turpin’ painted on the door of your car?”

“It’s a joke, really,” said Newt.

“Hmm?”