Billy Angel Read Online Free PDF Page A

which wasn’t surprising, because it wasn’t really my sort of a place. Or yours, either. Trust me.
    It was a pink shop with ‘Heaven Sent’ written in loopy writing. And a window display full of pink and silver nick-nacks. But, of course, that’s not what made me cross the road and walk straight in. It was the big pink sign in the window: ‘Understand your inner angel. Free readings – help and advice given’.
    I know, I know. I wasn’t battling with an inner angel. Mine was definitely an outer angel, and it was currently hounding me night and day.But where else could I go? The local cop shop? Yeah, right! ‘Excuse me officer, there’s a six-foot angel bothering me…’ They’d lock me up in a nut house.
    As I walked in, a dainty bell tinkled above my head and I was smothered in a cloud of sugary perfume, while my feet sank into a deep-pile, pink carpet. It felt a bit like visiting my auntie Ada’s house. (She’s the type of woman who puts fluffy-skirted dollies over her toilet rolls and has crocheted cushions on her sofa.)
    I sighed. It felt strangely comforting.
    â€˜Are you looking for anything in particular?’
    The voice belonged to a small, black-haired head that appeared from behind a big counter at the back of the shop.
    â€˜Er… well,’ I stammered.
    â€˜Looking for a present for your mum’s birthday?’ asked the head.
    â€˜No!’ She clearly didn’t know my mum. For her last birthday she asked for new overalls: mud brown, with built-in tool belt and extra padding on the knees for especially hard plumbing jobs.
    â€˜Your gran then?’ the head was obviously keen to nail a sale. ‘We’ve got some lovely potpourri? Or how about an angelic ornament?’
    I glanced at a wall covered in horrendous ceramic angels and shuddered.
    â€˜No angels!’ I said firmly.
    The head looked a bit confused, as though I’d walked into a butcher’s shop and said I didn’t want to buy any meat.
    â€˜Actually, I wanted to find out more about the, er… sign outside.’
    The head peered at me. ‘You mean you want an angel reading?’ It looked shocked.
    I didn’t know what an angel reading was, but it didn’t sound very appealing. ‘I’m not sure,’ I said.
    Then the head disappeared below the counter, and a few seconds later reappeared under a hatch along with its body.
    â€˜It’s not me that does the readings.’
    Thank God for that. She was about my age, and dressed head to pointy toes in black leather. She looked like she would be much better equipped to give a full and frank guide to hell, rather than heaven.
    â€˜It’s my aunt,’ she smiled. ‘But she’s in with someone right now.’ She nodded to a pink door at the back, and I noticed her green nose stud glittered when she moved.
    â€˜Take a seat on the sofa and she’ll be right with you.’
    I suddenly felt a bit silly, plus I still had the tea to deliver. I was about to turn tail and head back to the pie shop, when I suddenly got that weird feeling again, like someone nipping my ears. I looked around, in case the hoodie-angel had somehow snuck in from somewhere. But no…
    Just then the pink door opened and two women appeared. I knew instantly which one was the aunt, because she actually looked like the angel that sat on our Christmas tree. Right down to the blonde, curly hair and gossamer skirt. She was shaking hands with the other woman, who seemed extremely delighted with her reading.

    I turned to go, as quickly as I could without actually running, but she’d spotted me.
    â€˜Hello, young man… yes… you.’ And then she was on me. ‘Wait a minute, please, you look troubled.’ Her voice was soft and welcoming.
    And that’s all it took. Two minutes later, I collapsed on her pink, velvet sofa and poured out everything that had happened in my life so