Boating for Beginners (14 page)

Gloria knocked boldly at the door, which swung open immediately to reveal a wizened face that said, 'Go away.'

'We've come for your hoopoes,' said Gloria, in what she hoped was a voice of authority.

'Well, you can't have them. They're mine, both of them, and I've paid the licence.'

'We're collecting for - ' began Marlene, trying to be helpful.

'I never give to charity.'

Gloria tried the psychological approach. 'Why are you so attached to these hoopoes?'

'They were a wedding present — the only thing I got that wasn't out of the John Lewis catalogue. You can have my ironing board if you like. The cover's a bit worn but it'll do for charity, won't it?'

'We aren't collecting for charity,' Gloria tried to explain. 'We're collecting animals for a film. Your name will be on the credits.'

'Oh, you work with David Attenborough, do you? I used to like his films; always were full of animals. Course, that was when I could see.'

'We'll offer you proper money. Here's the amount I had in mind,' and as Gloria fumbled with her bit of paper, the old woman snatched if off her and studied it with the intensity of a palm reader.

'I thought you couldn't see,' accused Marlene.

'I can't see moving things, but I can see still things, long as they stay still,' the creature shot back, and Marlene subsided. 'All right, you can take them, but they're not what I'd call the easiest of birds. You'd be better off with pigeons.'

While Marlene blanched, the birds were fetched, looking very moody in their cage with a green baize floor.

'I've lost the instructions, but I expect you'll get the hang of them. The tall one likes sausage.' And with that the woman slammed the door, leaving them alone with their prize.

'I wonder what the small one likes?' Marlene asked tentatively. 'We could pick up some sausage on the way to the station, but she didn't say what sort. Do you think she meant regular breakfast sausage, or garlic sausage, or maybe she meant chipolatas?'

At the mention of chipolatas the tall bird began to dance up and down on his perch. So that's what they got for him, and he ate it all and the small one sulked, but they didn't have time to experiment because the train was leaving Nineveh and Bunny Mix had ordered they be on it. They found an empty carriage and placed the birds on the seat opposite them, while the birds stared out of the window trying to pretend that they often travelled by train and weren't insecure. 'See what I mean?' pointed Marlene. 'These birds, unlike some birds I could mention, have got style.'

For Desi the day had been less satisfactory, although she didn't have to suffer the shock of seeing her mother converting the multitudes. Desi's mother had been a suspicious woman, given to bouts of bridge and fits of pique. She liked to think of herself as a princess in an ivory tower and didn't enjoy it when her husband refused to participate in the fantasy. Eventually, she took to living upstairs in two rooms and consulting her almanac. She was an expert on tides, although the family lived two hundred miles inland. 'I need something to do,' she said, when questioned. 'I have so little to live for.'

As a result her husband moved out, taking Desi with him; and together they toured the world, collecting unusual stones for the rock garden in their new home. Occasionally Desi sent a postcard to her mother which was always returned saying, 'Not at this address' in her mother's handwriting.

Thus Desi was well equipped to marry into one of the more eccentric families in the Middle East, when she met Shem and his family at an auction of semi-precious stones. She didn't mind Noah's outbursts or her own husband's obsession with Petanque; but she did think it a bit much when she discovered they were about to aid the Unpronounceable in flooding the world. Her mother would probably have a seizure when she saw the waters rising without reference to her tide timetables, while her father's rock garden — his life's work and very pretty too - would be totally washed away. It was a bad business, all this interfering with other people's lives.

When she got back from Bees of Paradise she was just in time for breakfast, and took her place with the rest of the family who appeared to be in a nonchalantly bantering mood. Noah was bending his shiny bald head over a shiny bald egg and talking about his reasons for shooting the early part of the film in black and white. 'I want to use colour as a medium for expression,' he explained earnestly, as if no one had ever said it before. 'I want to give God the best, the blue bits and the red bits and the sea-green bits. I want him to have it all.'

'Hallelujah, Dad,' shouted Ham enthusiastically. 'Does anyone want this piece of toast?'

Rita and Sheila were being excused the film set for a day to get their hair done. Rita said she looked like a rag.

'What about you, Desi?' asked Shem, smiling as he always did.

'I thought I'd stay with you boys. So much to see, so much to do...'

There was a moment's pause while the men exchanged glances, then Ham wiped his fingers and coughed. 'I don't think you'd find it very much fun today. We've got a meeting with our technical people and then a meeting with the sound crew and it's all work and no play. Besides, Dad's in a bad mood, aren't you, Dad?'

'Yes,' agreed Noah. 'I'm in a terrible mood. Heads will roll today.'

'See? I told you. Why don't you take a horse and go out somewhere?'

'All right,' said Desi, hoping she was being convincing. 'I may stay over at some friends' tonight — no need for me to be here in the morning, is there?'

The boys were clearly relieved and Noah stopped making diagrams with the salt. Within five minutes the table was deserted, leaving Desi to work out how she was going to follow them. She was sure they were going to talk to YAHWEH again, sure they had some kind of plan.

She set off for the stables just in time to see the car rolling off down the drive. Her horse was saddled, and taking the route over the hills that followed the road, she observed their journey until they came to a level plain in the middle of nowhere. Tying her horse, she slithered down through the bushes, feeling like one of the Famous Five but rather too old. Noah and the boys were discussing their plan, and Noah was holding forth.

'So I'll suggest that we rewrite Genesis and make it look like God did it all from the very beginning, and we'll put in a lot of stories about how mysterious he is, and how no one knows where he came from.'

'Who's going to believe in him if he stops making personal appearances? Aren't you going to have to keep this up for ever? All these crusades and things get on my nerves. He's such a drama queen, always worrying about how his voice sounds through a cloud. We've been working for years to try and make him more discreet, but if we start the world again we'll have it all over again.' Ham was peevish, probably because he was still upset about his motorway services.

Noah tried to be patient with his son's lack of imagination. 'If we've got a new world we can tell them anything. They won't have any memory, any photo albums, any pressure groups or state-funded anarchy. We can say that God made the world, the air, the sky, the sea, and that it became so corrupt he had to flood it and start again. Who's to say we're lying? The girls'll keep quiet. We can write what we want in our book, pass it down and call it the inspired word of God. Once we're dead, that will be that, sewn up, a cinch. He'll be on his own then, but I guess he can cope. Look how much progress he's made with the knives and forks. A mother has to let go sometime,' and Noah blew his nose very loudly.

'All right, but I want to take the TV with me when we sail,' said Ham.

Noah looked pained, and wondered if genius always skips a generation.

'Son, you can take the TV but there won't be anyone broadcasting. We're starting again - the wheel, the plough? God, and I paid for your education. I might as well have let you go comprehensive.'

'What are we going to do about Bunny?' asked Shem suddenly. 'Are we going to tell her or not?'

Noah sat down, sticking out his stubby legs. He didn't want to talk about Bunny. 'I'll speak to the Unpronounceable, but I don't think he'll buy it. You know how much he hates her. He only puts up with her as it is for the sake of peace and quiet with his angels. Last time he banned her from the library and threatened to end her TV special by ending her, they all went on strike; and that meant no adoration, no semolina, no music. He couldn't take it.'

'Semolina!' spat Ham. 'What sort of food is that for a God?'

'I know, I know,' sighed Noah. 'We should think up a better name. What about ambrosia? That's got more dignity.'

Just then, the sky coloured over and Japeth spotted the cloud. 'He's landing, everybody, cover your eyes.' In a dazzle of smoke the cloud dropped down onto the level plane, and YAHWEH glided out.

'Hellow mother,' he said, ignoring the boys as usual. 'I've had a bad journey and something funny's happening to my left leg. It seems to be generating a smoke column, which in the ordinary way wouldn't be too bad, but this one appears to have a personality.'

Noah turned pale. What if YAHWEH were spontaneously reproducing? He examined the column with his magnifying glass. Yes, he could see a character forming inside, not a full or rounded character but certainly something that might prove difficult. 'It's your emanation,' he said finally. 'It's part of you but it's also separate and it won't go away.'

'Well, what are we going to do? If I'm God to the world I can't reveal a rival. People will call me pagan and it won't be so impressive being in two places at the same time. I'll be ordinary!'

'Calm down,' Noah soothed. 'There's no problem that your mother can't solve. We'll have to incorporate it — it can be part of your general mystery that you are one person really but another as well. We'll call it something grand and puzzling, like ... like ...' Noah sweated for a moment. 'That's it, we'll call it the Holy Wisp.'

'The Unpronounceable and the Holy Wisp? What kind of a team is that?' objected Ham.

'Besides,' butted in the Lord, 'I don't want to be the Unpronounceable any more.'

'But YHWH is unpronounceable unless you put some fake vowels in there,' Noah pointed out. 'It's not my fault that we have to do this in Hebrew. It's just how it is.'

'Yes,' insisted God, 'but it isn't always going to be Hebrew, is it? It's going to be French and Norwegian and African and lots of others. You told me I was going to be worldwide. Not everyone speaks Hebrew. I have my popular appeal to think of. Why don't we just settle for something translatable like «Almighty»?'

'Yeah, yeah, at 'em Lord. How about «Immortal Invisible God Only Wise»?' Ham jumped up and down faking boxer punches in the direction of the cloud. Noah looked cross.

'Well, I suppose if that's what you want we can write it in,' and he took out his notebook and wrote, 'Almighty'.

'That still doesn't solve the problem of this wisp,' continued the Lord, staring distastefully at his left leg where the column was muttering something about wanting to be a comforter.

'What's that he's saying?' asked Noah, straining to catch it.

'Holy's good, but I'm not sure about wisp,' mused Shem. 'We want to keep the feeling of wisp but maybe a little less flighty. Smoke's too prosaic, spook's too spooky. What about spirit?'

'Holy Spirit,' repeated Noah thoughtfully. 'That fits in with the general idea. Why not try it? What do you think?' He turned to the Lord who was trying it out in different tones of voice.

'Well, if he's here to stay, I guess Holy Spirit will do.' He jerked his head round to the gaggle of angels who were listening in. 'Got that? Holy Spirit. Write it down one of you, please.

'Good,' said God. 'That takes care of the future, roughly speaking, so I'd better tell you about my plans for the present. I'm going to start raining the day after tomorrow, so you'd better make sure that ship of yours is full of animals and that you've got enough food to last a while, because by my calculations we're going to need forty days to make sure they're all dead. Then we can start drying out again.'

'What about Bunny Mix?' blurted out Ham, wishing he hadn't.

'What about her?' demanded God, frowning. 'She's not on the cabin list. That's all you need to know. It's you lot and your wives. Seven, I make it.'

'I haven't got a wife any more,' Noah moaned. 'So if I want to take a consort, I think it should be allowed. I'll make it legal as soon as we hit dry land. Oh I know how you feel, but she's useful and she'll be able to help with the books. Even your autobiography is going to need a bit of romantic interest and I don't want to have to write those bits. Let her come. We won't tell her until the last minute, then we'll just pile her on board, maybe chloroformed, so she doesn't irritate you. And,' put in Noah winningly, 'think of your angels. They don't have much of a life, do they? Making pudding all day and singing hymns. Be generous.'

God scowled and whipped out his bit of paper. 'All right, you can have her. That makes it eight, though seven's my lucky number.'

'How long will the actual flooding take? I mean how long before we float off and the others don't?' (Shem enjoyed detail.)

'About a day,' replied God, consulting his log tables. 'They won't stand a chance, not when I start the hurricanes. That should sort out anyone who's trying to survive on their dining room table. To be on the safe side though, make sure the river craft have plenty of holes in them, won't you? I don't want to have to do all the work. I'll start the rain nice and slow, just to get everybody off the streets while you get onto your boat, then I'll throw it down like there's no tomorrow. Hee hee, and this time there won't be.' God sat back, obviously pleased.