A chuckle. 'Don't be alarmed. You're quite safe. Just wait.' The line was dead. With exaggerated care, I replaced the receiver and waited. As if I had any choice.

Gradually, almost imperceptibly at first, the mist seemed to thin. I started to make out shapes. A house? No, too tall and thin. A tree. Another tree. Open ground, Covered in grass. Clumps of colourful flowers. Eventually, the phone box was standing on a green, perfectly manicured lawn in a beautiful garden. The phone rang. 'Yes?'

'Push the door. It'll open now.'

He was right. The air was fresh and scented with something nice. Jasmine? A small, stout man was walking towards me, hand outstretched. 'Peter. So glad you could make it.' His handshake was firm and somehow comforting. 'No doubt you'll be a little confused right now. That's normal. All I can say is welcome to the Garden.' That's how he said it. As if garden had a capital G.

'I'm dead, aren't I? And how do you know my name?'

'We know everything about you, Peter. You're on your own, no family, parents dead. Nobody dependent on you down there.' Down there, I thought. Uh-oh. I'm dead. 'You're not dead. Please,' he went on, 'have a seat and I'll explain.' The telephone box had been replaced by two large padded chairs. The kind you see in hospitals and nowhere else. I sat, and he sat facing me. His eyes were sparkling. He looked ridiculously happy. He had white hair and his face was chubby and unlined. He looked like a younger version of the old chap in the Werthers ads.

He took a deep breath, sat forward. 'We are Speculators. This is where we live. The Garden of Cosmic Speculation. We spend our days speculating, or playing tennis or golf. Do you like tennis or golf?' I shook my head. 'Never mind, you'll be able to find something else you enjoy. Sex perhaps. Some of our younger speculators are quite keen on that, I understand.' He paused, and clearly expected me to say something.

'Sex? Speculate?'

'Yes, speculate.' He ignored the sex question. 'We speculate about whatever we fancy, and when we've speculated, and formed a Prime Speculation, we share it with everyone else, and if there's a two thirds majority in favour, it's issued.'

'Issued?' The question came out in a bit of a squeak.

'Issued. Disseminated, in other words. Down there.' He pointed, confusingly, upwards. I followed his pointing finger. There, in the blue sky, looking huge, and blue, was the Earth. That was when I fainted.

When I came to, I was in a bed, in a white room with an open window through which the sun and a light breeze wafted. My new friend was sitting beside me. 'And this is your room. You have a nice lie down, and when you'r ready, come down and join us. It's curry night. I always enjoy curry night.' And with a beautific smile and a light pat of my shoulder he walked over to a large, comforting door, opened it, and went out.