Just before he jumped Gerald cleared his mind of everything except the image of Claire as he’d last seen her dressed as Mr Spock at a Star Trek convention.

 

For years Claire had plagued him with her obsession but the look on Leonard Nimoy’s face when she’d asked him to autograph 23 books was the final frontier. He’d get his revenge by making her the subject of ridicule as the woman whose husband killed himself dressed as a wombat.

 

He’d considered dressing as Gordon Brown but instead randomly chosen a wombat. Claire wouldn’t be able to figure out why; no matter how much “logic” she applied and would probably write to Leonard for advice. As usual he’d send a signed photo with the postscript “Live Long and Prosper” which, for once, would have a certain irony.

 

He took a final peep over the cliff edge imagining Claire behind him, phaser at the ready. Then propelling himself forwards, he stretched his arms wide and fell into space.

 

But instead of his life flashing before him he began to fly, soaring on the crest of the wind like a heavenly seagull.

 

“Fuck you Starship Enterprise!” he screamed, riding the currents with childish delight until with a gentle flop he lay giggling in the breaking surf.

 

He’d tell Claire he’d discovered how the transporter worked.

 

Then he’d go on a mission. Where he’d explore strange new worlds, seek out a new life, a new civilization, and boldly go where he had not been before.