Boating for Beginners (9 page)

Doris was old enough to remember the time when Noah had made his first announcement about the One True God on board Nightqueen. The cloud trick had been the clincher. However had he persuaded the Creator of the universe to appear in a fluorescent cloud and do some fancy sky writing? He deserved to be successful with contacts like that. Then there had been the Glory Crusade and the move towards a religious and political coup. Maybe it had done some good, helped a few people, but she still felt it a pity that someone who had such a way with words should turn out to be a lousy fascist bastard.

Noah was right wing, suspicious of women and totally committed to money as a medium for communication. Yet when he spoke he charmed. He could transform his audiences' dull grey lives for an hour or two. Doris had been to most of those meetings, and when she came out she realised she had been conned and seduced because most of what he implied was dangerous nonsense. But while she was inside she believed him. He became a focus for pain and disappointment, urged his audience to lay their burden down and rest in him, told them they'd see their country become great again, painted a bright future for their children. It was all colour with Noah. Not surprising then, that many wanted to keep the feeling. He had created a congregation who wanted to look after one another. For some reason, this was their first experience of family. It meant they had friends to call on, resources to claim and, most important, that they would never be alone again. The sinister side lay in their attitude to those who didn't believe. If you refused the message you were an outcast, and although they might claim to love your soul the rest of you could literally and metaphorically go to hell. Doris objected to this. Why should a God of love disown a large part of his beloved? Noah said that love is hard and strong and love makes choices. Love discriminates and above all, love cannot embrace the inherently unlovely, ie those without YAHWEH in their hearts. They might feel concern and patience perhaps, but only for a time. 'Live in the light,' said Noah. 'Know your enemies.' Then there was his preoccupation with frozen food. This was some kind of personal oddity, but why make it a tenet of his doctrine? No believer was supposed to eat frozen food, and no believer was allowed to own a fridge because Noah felt it flouted the life process of freshness, decay and death. It was, he said, flying in the face of nature. Doris loved her fridge: her pots of cottage cheese, her smoked ham, and in the freezer she kept Black Forest Gâteau, Noah's particular anathema. She wondered why he'd hired her even to do the cleaning. Surely he could tell. She imagined the telltale smell of refrigerated food sticking to her clothes. But then, people in power — rulers, fanatics, TV personalities — always made a virtue out of their peculiarities; bow ties, a passion for oysters or silk knickers, and soon you had the whole world clamouring to dress up or make themselves sick. 'Heroes,' she mused. 'Why does the world need heroes?'

'Obvious,' said the orange demon, poking its head round her duster. 'The impulse to worship is impossible to eradicate. Even the most prosaic have to worship something.'

'What are you doing here?' demanded Doris. 'I thought you were on holiday.'

'I was. I've come back because there's work to do. I've got a new client, that friend of yours, Gloria. We couldn't leave her like she was, could we?'

'What's she need you for? She's been reading Northrop Frye.'

'I'm teaching her to be poetic while she teaches herself to be analytic. She used to be a jar of instant whip, you know.'

'I know that. I've seen it all before — the move towards reason, the loss of wonder, the empty place in the heart. I'm an organic philosopher, remember.'

'Yes,' replied the demon patiently, 'but if we don't give her something real to worship she'll end up like her mother. An emotional vacuum is a dangerous thing. You said yourself we all need heroes,' and the demon started to slide up and down Doris' polished floor.

'You leave off that floor. I've just done it. Besides, I've got my own worries. They want me in this film.'

'Doesn't matter about the film,' shouted the demon from the other end of the room. 'We're not interested in plot, are we?'

'You might not be,' grumbled Doris, 'but I am. This may be my one appearance in print. I may never occur in another novel. You appear all the time; you can afford to be relaxed.'

It was true. The orange Thing turns up everywhere, as a demon, a sprite, omnipotent author, flashes of insight. It is there in Jude the Obscure, The Little Foxes; it probably impersonated Scarlett O'Hara in most of Gone with the Wind. Whenever something other than the plot drops in, it is really the orange demon adding an extra dimension.

The demon did a twirl and sailed back to where Doris was standing, arms folded, looking like a brush with her thin body and tufted head.

'We're going to have trouble with this flood myth stuff. I know it's supposed to have happened a long time ago -if it happened at all — and I know we're only making a movie, but have you ever known someone to have the power and not use it?' and with a bright flash, the creature was gone.

'I hate them elementals,' spat Doris. 'Always popping up being cryptic and pretending they're doing you a favour. «Flood myths», what's all that about anyway ... ?'

When Gloria woke up the sun was streaming through her window. She could hear her mother clattering about with the pots and pans down in the windbreak, a smell of fish rising on the breeze. She slithered down the rope and poured herself a cup of tea. 'There's a note for you here,' said Mrs Munde. 'I've got to get up to the house, so I'll leave you to it,' and she put on her hat and coat and disappeared. Gloria slit the envelope and saw the gilded Noah crest. There was an address inside, a train timetable and instructions on how to find her destination from the station. Once she had arrived, the note said, she'd be given full board while collecting the necessary wild life. She was to be back by Friday week with all the animals, so that Noah could start the extra scenes. She packed her bag and set off.

When Gloria arrived at the station she became intensely aware of the bookstall. Suppose she were to pick up another innocent-seeming paperback which turned out to have life-changing properties? She settled for something with lots of stars on the front which called itself A Journey to New Worlds. She'd never read any science fiction but she knew that next to romance it was the most popular genre.

Gloria's carriage was empty, so she was able to study the notices without attracting attention. All railway passengers have a deep fascination for notices of the most trivial kind. They find this embarrassing, and will go to any lengths to disguise their obsession from fellow passengers with the same obsession. Gloria took in the exhortation to leave the train clean and tidy and felt suitably awed by the dire warnings against frivolously pulling the communication cord. She even took out her handkerchief and shone up the little plaque which the seat coverers had left as an indication of their handiwork. It was a brass plaque and gleamed very nicely when she'd finished. Then, after a quick inspection under the seats and in the luggage hammock just in case there was anything nasty or interesting she should know about, Gloria settled back to enjoy the journey and her science fiction thriller.

It wasn't actually a thriller, although it was about space. Space and the new physics. There is no such thing as objective experiment, it said, because the observer always affects whatever he observes. Subject and object are only arbitrarily split for the purposes of limited investigation. Gloria didn't want to hear this. As far as she was concerned for the time being, subject and object, herself and what she did, were very much split. She wanted to keep it that way, otherwise how was she ever going to make the most of her second stage? She put the book in her bag and looked out of the window instead.

Train travel always gave Gloria a sense of power. She liked to imagine that the world was a stage set laid on for her to pass through. She watched the fields and winding river slip past, not caring where she was going, only enjoying the journey for what it was. She had always dreamed of buying a Rail Rover and going off to exotic places with a knapsack and penknife. Now that she was starting a new life she might get round to doing it; a sort of celebration.

The rhythm of the train made Gloria sleepy after her tumultuous day and late night, and although she didn't fall quite asleep she realised she couldn't be quite awake either. She was standing at the bottom of a bright mountain. She tried to climb it but kept slipping down again. A crowd had gathered, and told her that she couldn't possibly get up there because the surface was made of glass and she was wearing the wrong shoes. Then she felt a twitching in her stomach which got stronger and stronger. An eagle flew out and, picking her up, carried her to the top of the mountain. Disgruntled, the crowd evaporated and Gloria found herself alone. She heard a little cough and saw the orange demon balancing on a crag.

'What's going on?' she demanded.

'Just a word from your sponsors. Did you grow out of the eagle or did the eagle grow out of you?'

'I don't know,' said Gloria crossly. 'This is a bit much.'

But the demon had gone and the train pulled in at Gloria's station.

After half an hour's walk through red soil and golden palms Gloria, having followed her instructions faithfully, found herself standing outside a huge arch which had the inscription 'Bees Of Paradise' chiselled into the moulding. With a jolt she realised where she was: she'd read about it in Vague. This was the famous rest home and health spa that belonged to Bunny Mix.

She walked under the arch and came into a garden where it seemed like afternoon. The air was heavy with the scent of bee-attracting flowers, and there were statues of famous people and famous animals who had saved lives. Then, at the end of the garden, she saw a white house glittering in the sunshine. It was beautiful in an oppressive kind of way. Oppressive because there was too much of everything - flowers of every kind, tame llamas skipping up and down the steps, and playful fountains spouting coloured water.

Gloria sat down on one of the marble steps and waited. She felt too overwhelmed to ring the bell. There was a noise like someone pushing a tea trolley and Bunny Mix appeared at the top of the steps on a pair of diamante roller skates. The rest of her was swathed in a kind of weatherproof chiffon and her hair had been scraped into bunches. She threw out her arms, looking just as she did in all the publicity photographs.

'Darling, you're Noah's zoo person aren't you? He said you'd be here. I've got all the cages ready and a list of instructions and, of course, you won't be working by yourself. I know all about your mother. Noah speaks very highly of her. Now, you've caught me on the hop a bit here, so why don't you go into the dining room and have some of my delicious honey toast while I finish my morning exercise. These skates do wonders for the calves. Soon I'll be with you.'

She glided off and Gloria set out to find the dining room. A few round tables were spread with cloth and flowers. It was light and airy and Gloria decided she might as well fortify herself in peace. A waiter brought her toast and tea - there seemed to be no choice in the matter. Gingerly she took a bite. It was actually quite normal toast, though she knew that it cost a fortune. Bunny Mix claimed it to be the most famous and efficacious cure in the world. She said it rehabilitated your metabolism. Gloria ate three pieces, and was just starting to relax when there was a rush of wings about her head and a large bat-like creation dropped into the seat beside her.

'Marlene!' gasped Gloria. 'What are you doing here?'

'I've just come to ask you the same thing. I'm here to recuperate from my little op. You must tell me how the film's going. Come on, let's go for a walk. I can't stand talking over food.'

She took Gloria by the arm and they set off towards the lime trees.

'I'm here to collect some animals,' Gloria began. 'I've only just arrived and I don't really know what's going on. Bunny Mix is coming to explain as soon as she's finished her morning exercise.' (At that moment they caught sight of the rabbit of romance flashing across the patio on her roller skates.) 'But how are you?'

'Oh I'm very well. I got a letter today offering me a new commission for my ceramic work. I've been asked to design a little oven for people who want to commit suicide with some grace, not with their hair full of last week's boiled-over stew. My oven will not be used for cooking, only for exits. It will be exclusive and fitted in your own home by craftsmen.'