The Gift of the Unicorn and Other Stories

by Chrys Cymri

Go to my website, www.chryscymri.com to find out more

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  Sample of The Judas Disciple

  February

  16 February

  The Judas Disciple died today. They say the next one will be chosen from the Republic of England. We’ll have months of talk shows trying to work out who it’ll be. Well, maybe it’ll give me something else to think about than the mess Ben’s left me in.

  You’d think I’d get some peace between coming home and going to this Conversion Concert. But as I got ready to go out, my mother stood in the doorway of my room, wanting to talk to me. Okay, yes, technically it’s her room, since it’s the spare room in her flat. I’m only living here until the house is sold and the divorce goes through. But still, I’m thirty plus years old. A bit past having to listen to lectures from Mum.

  ‘So, you’re seeing him again tomorrow night?’ she asked. It’s hard in a journal to put over the exact tone she used for ‘him.’ Mum made it sound like the Devil himself was going to meet me.

  Okay, no she wouldn’t, not as a paid up member of God’s Gang. Maybe more like something you found clinging to your shoe.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘Ben wants to see me again. I thought you’d be happy about that? Aren’t you GG people supposed to support marriage?’ I was plucking brown hairs from my coat, so I was able to keep my face turned away from Mum. Just as well, because I was a bit teary. ‘Maybe he’s realised what a mistake he’s made.’

  ‘Corina--’

  She only calls me that when things are really serious. And I was stone cold sober, so in no state to take serious. ‘Mum, I’ve got to go. You don’t want me to be late for the Conversion Concert, do you?’

  That got Mum excited. ‘It’s not just any Conversion Concert,’ she gabbled at me. ‘Mercy Peter will be there. Oh, I could almost wish I wasn’t already a member. They say she’s a fantastic speaker. Just think, she sees Jesus almost every day!’

  ‘Not every day,’ I grumbled back. ‘I mean, he’s based in London, isn’t he? Won’t she be staying in Northampton for these gigs?’

  Mum entered the room, and I stiffened. But she only patted my coat down and touched my arm. ‘Have a good time, Corrie. And listen to the message, please?’

  I ended up arriving early at the Concert, which means I’ve had to sit through thirty minutes of the latest praise band going on how wonderful it is to be a member of God’s Gang. I think the worst song went something like ‘I love the Gang, it gives me a bang’--and I wondered if they knew that ‘bang’ means something else out in the real world. It’s got so bad that I went to the ‘Holy Souvenir Table’ and bought this notebook. Maybe if I keep writing I can avoid the Gang Greeters who keep coming to my seat to ask me if I would ‘love to speak some heart truths.’

  Jezebel’s dogs! I’ve just looked at the front cover of this notebook. It’s got a blue and pink teddy bear wearing a t-shirt saying ‘Proud to be in GOD’S GANG.’ I thought I’d picked up the less sickening one which only had the rising sun logo on it. The front pages list all the Peters there’ve been since the first, Simon Peter. I guess they must change the front pages from Concert to Concert depending which Disciple is present, since the Peter is heading up this one.

  But that was the deal. I’m staying with Mum, rent free, and so here I am at the Concert. She even pointed out the food comes from God’s Gang, after all. ‘They’ve increased my allowance for you,’ she said. ‘They’ve even given us a voucher for a bottle of wine every week.’

  I decided it was best not to tell her that, when things were really getting bad between Ben and me, I was putting away a bottle of wine every night.

  Oh, good, that band is finally leaving the stage. ‘We love you, we love Peter, and we love Jesus!’ they’ve just shouted to the crowd. It’s a big venue, could seat several thousand, and I guess there must be around four hundred of us inside. I’m in halfway seats, so I can see the stage quite well but I’m not close enough to get pulled on. Although these Gang Greeters spot you anywhere. I’ve just had to repel another one. They’re like hungry mosquitoes. I wonder if they’ve got some quota to fill, so many conversions per Concert? I do think the Gang should spend a bit more money on clothing them. You can tell the difference between a GG member and those of us who haven’t chosen between them or Devil’s Due.

  Aha, now things are starting. A huge screen has come down, and the announcer is telling us how exciting it all is. We’re getting the premiere of the latest God’s Gang film. It was even filmed on location in the Holy Birth Land! Be still my heart. The lights are going down so my handwriting is going to get even worse than usual.

  Okay, nice opening shot. Dry and dusty Israel. I wonder if anyone really visits there, or only God’s Gang people on package tours? Swooping shot across what I guess must be Jerusalem, with all the worship towers topped by the rising sun logo. Better than a blue and pink teddy bear, though.

  Bethlehem. I know because they’ve put up a subtitle. A stable scene, a baby which is supposed to be Jesus along with his Earth parents. They all look holy. Even the donkey looks holy.

  Now thirty years later. It must be Jesus playing himself, because we only get to see the back of his head, shaggy brown hair waving in the wind. I guess they can still use him when they get to his thirties, since he’s stayed like that, hasn’t he? Most be some advantages to being the Son of God, eternal youth being one of them. How old is he now really, what, nearly two thousand years?

  We’re cutting right to the Victory Scene. There’s Lucifer, but according to the opening credits not the real one, just an actor playing him. I guess God’s Gang can’t afford the Devil’s appearance fees.

  Jesus is talking about being hungry and thirsty, like he would be after forty days and nights in the desert. His clothes look too good, though, all grey and ivory swirly robes. Lucifer is wearing a black suit, looks high designer label to me. The real one has quite a few designers working for him, but then they say he is a bit of a clothes horse.

  ‘Forty days and nights in this desert,’ Lucifer is saying, standing right in Jesus’ personal space. Wonder how the actor felt being this close to the Son of God. Did they build any healings into the contract? ‘You must be so hungry. Why not change these stones into bread? You could feed yourself, and go on to feed everything on this planet.’

  I think half the audience said Jesus’ lines with him. ‘It is written, “Humans do not live by bread alone.”’ Some wit in the audience has just shouted out, ‘A bit of ham and cheese goes down well!’ and people have laughed. I bet the God Greeters aren’t happy about that one.

  A bit of special effects while Lucifer and Jesus fly over the desert and land on the top of the Grand Temple in Jerusalem. They’ve either removed or airbrushed out the rising sun logo which you usually see in photos of the Grand Temple. ‘Throw yourself off this Temple,’ Lucifer is saying. ‘You know that your Father’s angels will catch you before you hit the ground.’

  Again, people around me are muttering Jesus’ response. Even if you aren’t a card carrying member of God’s Gang, you’ve had all this in school history classes and you know it by heart. ‘It is written, “You shall not put the Lord your God to the test.”’

  More special effects. Oh, they’ve gone a bit modern. Jesus and Lucifer are now standing on top of Buckingham Presidential Palace. I wonder if they use the White House for the Union of American States version? ‘If you will acknowledge my ownership of this world’s wealth,’ Lucifer says, ‘then I will give to you all the people who are baptised into your name. But I will remain the king of pain. I will remain the king of pain.’

  All the God Greeters and lots of people in the hall start to cheer as the moment of Victory comes. ‘I give you the world’s wealth,’ Jesus says, ‘and you release to me all those who are baptised into the name of Jesus, Son of Man and Son of God. I claim Victory over you and all your dark works!’

  Some people around me have got to their feet. The film has finished, and the l
ights are coming up. And there she is, the headline attraction, Mercy Peter herself. I remember the talk when she was appointed Peter, first time it’s gone to a woman and a woman from Africa as well. Mind you, the lights on the stage even make her look a bit pale. She probably thought she could get by without any make-up. Bad call.

  ‘Jesus has claimed the Victory!’ she shouts into a microphone. Some of the crowd roar back, ‘Jesus has claimed the Victory!’ But I don’t think I’m the only one who is scrunching back in her seat and wishing this whole thing was over.

  ‘Jesus has claimed the Victory, he ended the struggle over poverty and suffering!’ Mercy Peter is striding across the stage. Okay, yes, she has real presence. Her dreadlocks are quite fantastic, bouncing up and down like they have a life of their own. She even gets to wear something colourful, a black dress thing with the rising sun logo repeated over and over. ‘You can join in this Victory. Join God’s Gang, and you too will never again be hungry or be thirsty. You will never again be without a place to call home, or people to call family. And your name will go into the Lottery automatically every week. You might even win the Grand Prize of a healing from Jesus himself!’

  Ugh. That’s what my mother keeps telling me. ‘And if you joined God’s Gang you’d get your name into the Lottery. I’m not getting younger, Corina. Look at Martha, she has five children and all their names go into the Lottery. What if I get sick?’

  There are times I really, really hate being an only child.

  Mercy Peter is still going on, telling us why we should convert. I’ve heard it a million times. Mum became a recruiter a few years after Dad died, which makes about thirty years of me hearing her talk to Seekers about God’s Gang. Join God’s Gang and all your troubles are over. Food tokens, accommodation, clothes, health care and the Lottery. Just sign everything over to God’s Gang. You might even get a token for a bottle of wine every week.

  I can feel my liver suffering withdrawal symptoms even as I scribble. Maybe I should put it to a vote amongst my vital organs.

  Here we go, a call to the front. A chance to convert in front of the Peter herself. Right hand woman of Jesus, second-in-command of God’s Gang. Maybe you get a special sticker? Oh, if you convert today you will get two additional entries into the Lottery! After you’ve gone through the process and been baptised, of course. Not before then.

  The God Greeters whoop and cheer for each person who goes forward. They’re brought up on stage and get a hug from Mercy Peter herself. And second prize is two hugs…

  This could go on forever. The God Greeters are moving up and down the hall, looking to see if any more of us are going forward. The guy on my right is hunkering down, not meeting their eyes. I wonder why he’s here. A pushy wife? Lost his job and wondering who’s going to feed him? Maybe he did it on a dare. I heard a stag party invaded one of these and threw things on the stage. Devil’s Due issued a full apology even though the men weren’t signed up members of theirs.

  Okay, looks like we’re finally coming to an end. The new converts are being taken away for whatever they do to them. If any of them are local they might end up at my Mum’s house. She does mentoring as well as recruiting. Time to go.

  Later--and the evening got even worse.

  Traffic wasn’t too bad, and I found a space to park on the road near the HappyDaze complex. I decided to be lazy and took the lift up to my Mum’s floor.

  At least the Concert meant that I’d avoided one of her meetings. I could smell some perfume in the air as I opened the door to the flat. So it was a mentoring group. Only new converts would still be wearing perfume. There was a bottle of wine in the fridge. I tried not to look at the label so I wouldn’t prejudge what went into my glass. The voucher might entitle you to wine, but Market Economy supermarkets have the best vintages. I’ve never been impressed with what you find in Kingdom stores.

  I found Mum in the meeting room. She was watching ‘The Kingdom of God,’ that blockbuster movie which came out last year about the early years of the Kingdom. I hadn’t realised the DVD was already available, but I wasn’t surprised she’d rushed out to buy a copy.

  The movie was about half an hour in. Jesus had already won the Victory in the desert and picked his original twelve Disciples in Galilee. They were riding into Jerusalem in gleaming horses, and the streets were lined with people cheering Jesus on as ‘Son of David, Son of God!’

  Mum turned the sound down. ‘Did you meet the Peter?’ she asked. That was her way of asking whether I’d been converted.

  ‘No,’ I said. That was my way of telling her that I hadn’t.

  ‘Oh.’ Mum sighed. ‘But what did you think of her?’

  ‘She was interesting.’ That wasn’t entirely a lie.

  On the TV screen the Hollywood actor portraying Jesus was marching up the Temple steps. The priests were out in force to welcome him as their new leader. The actor smiled at them, teeth rather too perfect for the time period. I’m also not convinced by the blond hair and blue eyes, but I suppose they wanted someone with international appeal.

  I should have realised that Mum wasn’t going to let go of our earlier battle. ‘About meeting Ben--’

  I hate the way my stomach does a sudden flip-flops when I hear his name. How can anyone feel excited, nervous, hopeful, and angry all at once? ‘Yes. Tomorrow evening.’

  Mum was only angry. ‘After the way he’s treated you--’

  ‘But maybe he’s changed his mind,’ I said. The wine was shivering in the glass. ‘It’s only been a couple of months since he told me, maybe he’s realised he’s made a mistake.’ I wished Mum would shut up. The movie was getting to my favourite bit, where Jesus goes to see the Roman Emperor and convinces him that he is the Son of God. The miracle where Jesus heals the Emperor’s daughter is one of the best scenes in the whole film.

  Another sigh. Sighs are Mum’s specialist subject. ‘Corina. I was here the last time he phoned. Remember? When he told you all the reasons why Helen was better than you.’

  ‘Only because I asked him to,’ I protested. I put the wine glass down to stop me from spilling any. ‘I thought you God’s Gang people believed in forgiveness.’

  ‘We do. We’re also strong on faithfulness.’ Mum leaned forward. Now that she’s let her hair go grey she can look really fierce when she wants to. ‘And even more so when it’s my own daughter.’

  ‘We were having a trial separation--’

  ‘A man who tells my daughter he’s not coming back to her after fourteen years of marriage is not the man I want for a son-in-law.’ Mum shook her head. ‘Have you forgotten that night, that weekend? I haven’t.’

  Great, now we’d missed the controversial scene where Jesus persuades the Emperor to outlaw crucifixion. ‘After all,’ the movie had Jesus say, ‘in different circumstances you might have crucified me.’ That had caused all sorts of uproar last year. The idea that the Son of God might have died, when it was clearly God’s plan that he would live forever as the leader of the Kingdom of God on Earth! Even worse, that he might have died like the worst of criminals. People chanted protests outside of cinemas about that one.

  ‘This argument,’ I told her, ‘isn’t helping.’ So I picked up my wine and headed to my bedroom. Anyway, the movie gets boring after that. All the political stuff about setting up the Kingdom Economy and the first Disciples building their portfolios. Although the scene in which Jesus’ mother dies is quite touching. They had a whole bit where Jesus agonises that he’s going to live forever while everyone dies around him.

  Anyway, I’m sitting here on the bed, wishing I’d brought the whole bottle of wine with me and reading through my break-up journal. Or maybe it won’t be break-up. Lots of couples try living apart, even meet up with other people, then realise that they’re meant to be together, don’t they? And all those reasons he gave why Helen is better than I am. I’ve lost about twelve pounds over the last month, so I can’t think she’s much skinnier than me. We can talk about housework and holidays. We can
make it work out.

  Mmph. Got to get to bed. Work tomorrow.

  17 February noonish

  Lunch break. This isn’t a bad office, I’ve worked in worse. My first manager collected pigs and we often said he aspired to be one. The manager I work for now has been pretty good about being nice to me but not asking every five minutes if I’m coping okay. They all know about Ben. Well, it’s hard not to know when I had a major crying breakdown on the phone about two weeks ago. I’d just looked at our bank account on-line and saw a huge debit on our joint credit card from a jewellery store. I made the mistake of ringing Ben from my desk and he was just so logical about it. ‘We want to get married as soon as possible,’ he told me. ‘So of course Helen needs an engagement ring.’

  ‘Engagement ring?’ I’m surprised my voice didn’t break glass. ‘But we’re still married!’

  Note to self: Don’t try to talk to your husband while at work.

  All the talk today, between customer phone calls and doing paperwork, is about the Judas Disciple. We actually have a few God’s Gang people working at our branch. Most GG people who work in insurance choose firms like First Ethical, but we have some here at MidPro. They seem to work as hard as anyone for their bonuses, though I never understand why, when it all goes into the central God’s Gang account.

  Anyway, it was after that engagement ring incident that another assistant, Jane, took me into one of the manager’s offices and told me that I had to file for divorce. ‘Is everything in joint names? Then you’ve got to get out. Corrie, look, okay, maybe this will fizzle out and he’ll realise what a mistake he’s made. But in the meantime he’s spending money like there’s no tomorrow, and you’re jointly liable for that debt. Get out before he cleans you out.’

  ‘But if we get divorced,’ I said, ‘then it’s harder for him to come back to me, isn’t it?’

  Jane looked at me like I’d sprouted horns or something. ‘You still want him back?’

  ‘We’ve been married for fourteen years.’ I think I might have sniffled. ‘Doesn’t that count for something?’

  ‘You would think so,’ Jane replied in her best ‘don’t lie to yourself’ tone of voice. ‘I want you to promise me, you’ll go home tonight and order the papers to file for a divorce. Promise? You’ve got to look after yourself, Corrie. He certainly isn’t looking after you.’

  So here we are, papers filed, and Ben wants to see me. Well, the papers can be stopped, can’t they? Maybe he’s remembered that we were pretty happy together. Well, until lately, the last year or so, when he started being so different. Mid-life crisis, that’s all it’s been. That’s why we decided to have some time apart.

  Okay, back to work. My manager has a meeting to agree a large policy, and I have to be there to take the minutes. I need to think about something other than tonight.

  18 February 9pm

  Okay, all confused now. Don’t know where we are in all this.

  I drove over to the house--our house--as agreed, and Ben answered the door. He looks well, although I can’t get used to the ponytail being cut. I liked his blond hair long. It was the first thing he got rid of when he moved out to a flat. Also not sure of his new, expensive clothes. Old sweatshirts out, smart jumpers in. Cashmere, I think. The wedding ring is gone, of course.

  The house looked mostly the same, though it had that smell of a place which has been empty for awhile. As usual it was me who made the mugs of tea. Ben and I sat down in the lounge.

  Ben took a sip of his tea. ‘Helen’s joined a reading group here in Daventry.’ At my look he added, ‘No, not a God’s Gang group. You know that stuff always turned me off. Anyway, she’ll be there for a couple of hours, so I thought we could meet up.’

  ‘Because?’

  Ben leaned back into the armchair. ‘Work is such a bitch right now. They’re doing all sorts of cut backs in funding, and I’m supposed to run the marketing campaign on half the budget I had last year. And then yesterday Jack said--remember Jack, the Jackass?--Jack said that I was creative, I’d cope. And then I said--’

  I must admit I tuned out around then. This is how we used to talk when we were still living together, when we still wore our wedding rings on our fingers. Finally we got a point when he took a breath and drank some tea, and I asked him, ‘Why are you telling me all this?’

  Ben looked at me as if I were the weird one. ‘Corrie, you’ve always been the one I can talk to. I know things are a bit messy right now, but we’ve been friends for years. When things have settled I really want you to meet Helen. She’s such a great person, you’ll really like her.’

  His ring finger was empty, but I still wear my wedding ring on a chain around my neck. I showed it to him. ‘Ben, you’re still important to me. Remember, if this doesn’t work out, the door is still open if you want to come back to me.’

  Ben looked away. I think he wiped a tear from his eye. ‘I do love you, Corrie, you know. But you were right about us separating. And now I’ve met Helen, and I’m in love with her. You understand, don’t you?’

  I left soon afterwards. Will this thing with Helen last? I hate waking up alone. I hate not being in our house and looking forward to him coming home to me. I hate going to bed alone. I miss Ben terribly. It wasn’t this bad when he’d had to travel with work. It wasn’t even this bad during our supposedly trial separation. I knew that he loved me from afar. We talked to each other every day. Seeing him like tonight is so hard, it hurts so much. But I still want him back. Am I being pathetic?

  21 February

  All the talk on the radio is about the Judas Disciple. I wish they’d just dedicate a separate channel for all the gossip so I could ignore the whole thing. Sooner or later Jesus and the Peter will sit down and pick someone. The Judas handles the money so they’ll probably pick someone from the finance sector. That would be fun, not, if it’s someone I know. Mum would be too excited to live with.

  Jane was a volcano of anger when I told her about the talk with Ben. Good thing she’s not a member of God’s Gang, not with her swearing.

  Devil’s Due are running a recruitment drive. I know all of us who aren’t in God’s Gang are part of the Market Economy by default, but they do like people to be signed up members. It’s a rather clever campaign. ‘Why be a Judas when you can be a devil?’ Just for the hell of it I filled out one of the cards shoved under my car’s windscreen wiper. You get a voucher for use in a Market Economy supermarket, and I’m getting tired of the cheap wine Mum gets in. Anyway, the voucher will come with lots of bumpf that I can just throw away. Or leave out to frighten Mum.

  25 February

  Just a regular blah week, couldn’t think of much to write. And now only one day to the weekend. I used to look forward to them. Ben and I would have a bottle of wine or two Friday night, sleep in Saturday, go out somewhere Sunday. No point getting up early on a Saturday, so many things are shut so God’s Gang people can go to Temple.

  Ben asked me to meet him again. Looks like he plans to make this a habit on Helen’s book night. I make cups of tea, and Ben tells me how bad work is and what pressure he’s under.

  Ben brought several bags of stuff from the cottage in Devon. ‘It belongs to my parents,’ he reminded me when we were drawing up the financial agreement. ‘Helen and I’ll use it, but you won’t now, will you?’ Tonight my spare clothes and toothbrush were in the bags. Ben gave me the stuff, then made a funny cough. ‘We had some good times together, didn’t we?’

  If they were such great times, why did he decide to leave me for Helen? But I kept quiet. Maybe Ben will realise how stupid he’s being. That’s what I hope. Sometimes. And sometimes I just want to cut his head off.

  I remember once hearing a woman on the radio talking about when her husband left her. She said that when you’re in a relationship it’s like a third person is built up between you. This third person is built up out of all that you’ve shared together, all your memories, your special rituals, things which only you two know about. And when th
e relationship ends it’s like watching this third person slowly die. Ben and I had a whole story going with our lives, a story which we’d built up together over the years. All of that will die. The story will die, unless he and I get together again. People like Jane, like my mother, just don’t understand. As long as there’s still a hope, I’ll keep seeing Ben while Helen is doing her book stuff. There’s seventeen years’ worth of history at stake here.

  26 February

  I was so bored I actually went with Mum today. Yes, me, in a Temple. I used to go when I was a kid, had no choice really. That’s where Mum was and when you’re young you just get taken to places by your parents, don’t you? It wasn’t that bad, really. They always had separate sections for kids, and we got to hear stories about the patriarchs (I always loved the one about Elijah being fed by ravens) and colour in pictures of King David. Every so often we’d have a quiz to see if we could remember Jesus’ family tree, the one which proved that he could be traced back to David. Even when I was little I thought it was weird that the family tree ended at Jesus, that he’d never decided to have a wife and kids. But when I asked a teacher once she looked shocked. ‘He’s the Son of God,’ she told me. ‘He’s devoted himself to building the Kingdom here on Earth. He’s not here to have a wife and children.’ She did get a bit kinder. ‘And what would it be like, for him to watch his family grow old and die? He’s immortal, and they wouldn’t be.’

  I do wonder what must it be like for Jesus, watching all of us grow old and die. Even the Disciples die eventually. The Lottery proves that he and the Twelve can heal lots of things, but we all wear out eventually. Even members of the Twelve die, and they have access to Jesus all the time. Maybe that’s why most of us see so little of Jesus. Maybe he prefers to only get close to a few people, if he’s always going to outlive them.

  Anyway, Temple is a bit more boring if you’re an adult. My Mum’s Temple is a Traditional, with trumpets and harps and lots of slow singing. They must be used to non-members coming, because near the end they sang the recruitment song. The line that always sticks in my head is, ‘The vilest offender, the moment he believes, a full entry to the Lottery receives.’ The Lottery, the chance to meet one of the Twelve for healing, must be more attractive as you get older. Can’t see the Lottery helping a broken heart.

  Hmm, okay, that sounded bitter. Must stop.

  They’ve done a new translation of the David hymns. I tripped over ‘The Lord’s my Shepherd’ when ‘your rod and staff comfort me’ were changed to ‘your smart phone and email check on me.’ I found myself wondering why God’s Gang never do product placement. ‘Buy the smart phone Jesus uses!’

  Readings from The Chronicles of the Kings of Judah and the Prophet Elijah. Various people stood up to give their interpretation of what the readings should be telling us today. Even Mum stood up to say a few words, and I pretended I didn’t know her. Fortunately the cantor came in after twenty minutes. Sometimes these interpretation sessions can go on and on.

  There were biscuits and coffee afterwards. The coffee was powdered stuff so I had tea instead. Can’t stand instant coffee. Most of the conversation was about getting ready for Passover. They’re decorating the Temple hall to welcome those who can’t get back to their families for the festival. Oh, no, I just realised that Mum will be expecting me to share Passover with her. I won’t be able to get away with just dropping by and then going back to Ben.

  I’d better start learning the responses again. She probably thought all those years that Ben and I were keeping Passover together.

  March

  1 March

  Came home from work to find two bits of post waiting for me. Once was the paper telling me that the Decree Nisi was in place. Makes me feel like paperwork is rushing me off a cliff.

  The other post was a card telling me that a special delivery had to be made to me. Personally. It was in the black and red colours of Devil’s Due, and had their double D design on the back. Good thing I got home before Mum. But why do I need to arrange with them to be in at a particular time just to get their literature and my supermarket voucher? The woman on the phone, when I rang up to book the time, wouldn’t tell me. Anyway, I need to leave work early tomorrow to be in for a five o’clock delivery. What a nuisance. Well, if I look all teary in front of my manager he’ll just assume it’s about my divorce and tell me to go early.

  3 March

  Solomon’s Wisdom!

  I left work and only just got home at 5pm. So I was just getting out of my car when I heard the sound of a car engine pulling up behind me. I turned and I think my jaw might have dropped. I certainly came near to drooling. There it was, one of those multi-thousand pound Devil’s Due sports cars, looking like the ones given to their Formula One drivers. All curvy lines and shining black with red trim. I’m not usually a car person, but I could have made an exception.

  The door opened, and a man uncurled from the deep seat. I inhaled the smell of deep, rich leather. The young man was dressed in a suit which must have cost as much as one of the car seats, all tightly fitting and elegant. Part of me noticed that he was drop dead gorgeous. Another part of me decided to ignore this as much as humanly possible.

  ‘Corina Maria Foster?’ The man pretended to be asking, but it was obvious he knew who I was.

  ‘That’s me,’ I said, trying to ignore the fact that his voice was also gorgeous.

  ‘You are invited.’ With a flourish the man bowed and held out a small platter which gleamed in the sun. Gold? It looked like solid gold. On the platter was a small envelope, all black and red again. I reached out and took it, hating the fact that my hand was trembling slightly.

  The man straightened, gave me a smile which made my heart skip several beats, and then he slipped back into the car. ‘Wait!’ I called out to him. ‘You said I’m invited. I haven’t given my reply yet!’

  ‘There’s no need.’ He looked up at me from inside the car. ‘No one has ever declined this invitation. Not even Jesus himself.’

  Then he was turning around in the drive, the engine throbbing wonderfully. I watched him leave, the envelope clutched in my sweaty hand. I hurried inside.

  Mum wasn’t home. There are times when I am lucky. I knew it was early but I felt I deserved a glass of wine after all that excitement. That, and maybe a cold shower. But first the envelope.

  After a few gulps of wine I went into my bedroom. The envelope felt warm. It was sealed with red wax, and the double D logo stood out. I slipped a fingernail underneath and lifted off the seal.

  Inside the envelope was a card. Yes, you’ve got it, red print on black. And it was printed, the whole thing, not handwritten. I stared at the words, trying to take it in.

  Corina Maria Foster is hereby invited to dinner with the Venerable Lucifer, Emperor of Hell and King of Pain. Eight of the clock on the evening of Saturday, 12 March. A car will call at HappyDaze complex at seven of the clock to conduct you to his illustrious presence. Dress is formal.

  Dinner with the Devil? There were no contact details, nothing about either accepting or declining the invitation. What had Gorgeous said? No one ever declined.

  What am I ever going to tell my mother?

  So I’ve just been looking at this invite. If you can call it an invite. No contact details for a RSVP. Obviously His Impressiveness just assumes that no girl can say no to a date with the Devil. Or boy. Does he also invite boys? He must do.

  Why me? How did I get picked for this? What’ve I done to get an invite from His Illustriousness to dinner? Formal dinner, even.

  Or maybe there will be lots of other people there too. Doesn’t say I’m the only one. Maybe everyone who filled out that form asking for more information has received this sort of invite. Could be that lots of streets in Daventry had a visit from that gorgeous car today.

  But it’s still a bit of raw cheek, to just assume anyone invited will go. I mean, I could have arranged a hot date that night. I might have had tickets to a London show. I might have
a life, rather than just the hobby I seem to have made of my life.

  What if it is just His Darkness and me? Well, it can’t be a date. I’ve never heard of Lucifer having a girlfriend. A wife. Or a boyfriend. Or even a pet hamster.

  I’ve just read over the drivel I’ve been scribbling away. Okay, okay, I’ll go. It’ll be some sort of crowd thing, the Devil’s Due equivalent of a Conversion Concert. Have to say though that it’s far more stylish.

  4 March

  Weird at work. People were all talking about their weekends and what they planned to do. I kept wondering if anyone else had a DD invite at home. Well, not God’s Gang people, of course. And you can tell who they are, even if they’re not wearing the sunrise logo somewhere. I think all of them must get their clothes from the same store, all samey and just on this side of not being crappy. But it’s harder to know who is a paid up member of Devil’s Due and who, like most of us, just get included automatically in the Market Economy because we’re not God’s Gang.

  So I couldn’t work out how to ask anyone. ‘Hey, did a great sports car come to your house the other day?’ How about a very subtle, ‘Have you seen anyone gorgeous lately?’

  No, can’t ask, can’t tell. Maybe at the dinner there’ll be lots of people from the office and we’ll stand around and have to pretend that we don’t know each other. Like GG people do when they’re caught in a Market Economy supermarket, with money they’ve managed to get from somewhere.

  Around to the house again tonight. Just to talk while Helen does her literary thing. Ben went on about our ‘all our wonderful years’ and that I am ‘still very precious’ to him. He seems to view our life together as something great from which he’s moving on to something greater. He doesn’t seem able to see any of this from my point of view. Because of those ‘wonderful years’ I can’t understand how he can leave me for someone he only met a few months ago. He must come to his senses. He has to.

  9 March

  Came home to the smell of baking. That’s always a bad sign. Mum only bakes when she’s nervous, and usually she’s nervous when it’s something to do with me. There are times I really wish she’d had other children, so she could worry about someone other than me from time to time. Maybe I should have gone ahead and given her grandchildren.

  We ate dinner together and I decided not to escape to my room. Might as well get it out into the open. So we went into the lounge, me with my glass of cheap wine, her with a cup of tea. She stirred the spoon so many times I thought the metal might dissolve. But I was going to make her speak first.

  ‘Corina…’ Mum did one of her major sighs. ‘Corina, I'm really worried about you seeing Ben every week. It’s just not good for you.’

  ‘I’m over thirty, Mum,’ I reminded her. ‘I’m a big girl now. I can look after myself.’

  ‘Be careful.’ Now she met my eyes. ‘It’s times like this, when people are vulnerable, that Devil’s Due try to recruit you. I’ve seen it before.’

  Good thing she doesn’t know about the invite hidden under my mattress. But her attitude still annoyed me. I couldn't help myself. ‘What if they did?’

  ‘Corina, I’m a recruiter--’

  ‘So what, that means I can’t make up my own mind on things? I’ve grown up with it, with all that God’s Gang stuff.’ I was amazing myself with what was coming out. ‘All those people coming into the house, evening after evening. Having to wear those cheap clothes that they give you, only going to Kingdom stores, Kingdom schools, never having holidays abroad--’

  ‘We look after our own,’ Mum cut through. ‘If I were ill we would still have a place to live, food on the table, and healthcare through the Kingdom hospitals. And there’s always the Lottery.’

  ‘Have you ever known anyone to win the Lottery?’ I shot back. ‘The only person I know was Aunt Jean, and all she won was five minutes with the Matthew. He healed her busted knee but she still died of cancer a year later. Why, Mum? I’ve never got it. Why does anyone want to be in God’s Gang?’

  There was a long silence before Mum spoke again. ‘When your father died,’ she said quietly, ‘I felt like I’d lost everything. I loved him so much, and we had such plans for our future, our family’s future. Suddenly my career didn’t matter anymore. I had a house filled with expensive clothes, nice food, lovely furniture. But none of that was important, because the house was so empty. All I had was that emptiness, and a young child.’

  ‘But--’

  ‘Quiet, Corina.’ I was so shocked at her soft order that I obeyed. ‘I found myself going to Temple a few weeks later, with you in a pushchair. The people there were lovely. They just took me in. They made sure both of us were fed, and one woman helped me to sort out the financial mess your father had left behind. They were very kind to me, so I started to think that perhaps the God they followed might be kind as well. It was a gradual thing, Corina. But I found that I had a new family, and I wanted to be part of that family. That’s why I joined the Kingdom.’

  I waited until I was certain that she’d finished. ‘But you’ve never met Jesus, or any of the Twelve, have you?’

  ‘It would be nice to meet one of them,’ Mum agreed. ‘But I have my Kingdom friends, my family. We look after each other. That’s what’s important in life, Corrie. The people you love, and who love you. Not clothes or cars or careers. I thought you might have realised that lately. What you own doesn’t matter if the person you love isn’t around anymore.’

  ‘Ben’s not dead,’ I reminded her. Part of me couldn’t help thinking that things might have been easier to deal with if he were.

  For a moment both of us thought she’d say something. Then Mum just did another of her sighs. ‘Corrie, please, be careful.’

  ‘About Devil’s Due or about Ben?’

  ‘Both.’ She shrugged. ‘I’m your mother. I worry. It goes with the territory.’

  I had the urge to make some sort of cutting pun about geography, but nothing came to mind. ‘Right, okay, I’ll be careful.’ I got up and headed to my room. I’m doing perfectly fine, I don’t need to have my mother fretting about me.

  12 March

  Yes, went to see Ben last night. It was the usual him-talking-me-listening. He and Helen are looking at houses in Northampton, near to where they both work. ‘We saw a really nice one the other day,’ he told me. ‘I’ll bring the plans next week so you can see them.’

  Now I’m getting ready for this dinner. I’ve decided on smart business suit rather than a fancy dress. Never was one much for little black numbers, probably because I don’t think it works on people who are on the past size 12. Plus it would show up the grey hairs already spreading through the brown. Can’t decide if I need to take cash. Maybe just a bit, just in case. Like catching an early taxi home if I get tired of the crush.

  Mum’s just called. There’s a limo waiting for me. Time to go…

  12 March 11pm

  No crush. No crowd. King David’s testicles!

  The shiny black limo whisked me away. Just black outside, red leather inside. It was a stretch job, and I tried to relax, all alone, in the back. There was an open bottle of vintage champagne waiting in an ice bucket, and I poured myself a small glass. Didn’t want to be too tipsy when greeting His Darkness. After smiling and nodding, I thought, I could just slip away to the back of the room and find some more drink.

  Did I mention the lack of crowd?

  It took us about thirty minutes, but then there aren’t that many posh places in this area of Northamptonshire. We headed towards Coventry, and then some location outside the city centre. The limo pulled up outside a small place with an even smaller nameplate. George’s. Even I’ve heard of George’s. People travel up from London just to have a look at George’s, hoping one day they might be able to afford to get inside. That’s when I started to wonder about the whole crowd thing.

  I don’t think my fingers ever got near a door. Each one seemed to open magically in front of me, from the car through the entrance to the restauran
t to the small side room. I think there were tasteful and expensive pieces of art on the light walls. I think the carpet was thick and soft. I think there were about three tables in the room. The reason I only think rather than know is that all I could look at was His Rebelliousness himself. There he was, the Devil, rising from his chair as I walked over to him.

  Much to my embarrassment, I found myself saying, ‘You don’t look anything like your official photographs.’

  That made him laugh, low and deep. ‘Certainly not. How else should I be free to wander the world, walking up and down your streets, and remain unrecognised?’ His voice was deep and cultured, with an accent I couldn’t place, suiting his tanned skin and dark hair. His black jacket was precisely tailored and looked very expensive. A huge diamond glittered in a ring on his right hand as he waved at the chair across the table from his. ‘Ms Corina Foster, I am so pleased to make your acquaintance. Please, do take a seat.’

  He didn’t offer me his hand, and I wouldn’t have taken it if he had. That’s the quickest way to join Devil’s Due--shake the hand of Satan.

  We were the only two people in the room. Maybe we were the only two customers in the whole restaurant. I suddenly wished I’d had more of the champagne. I took a seat on the antique chair, and suddenly a waiter appeared to help me get settled at the table. Lucifer took his seat, although he did a sort of wriggle as he sat down.

  ‘Ah, indeed, my back,’ he said, noticing my stare. ‘Those are my wings. Or, rather, the remnants of my wings. When I was cast out of Heaven, flesh and feathers were consumed in the fall through Earth’s atmosphere. The remnants do pose quite a challenge for my tailors.’

  ‘Did it hurt?’ As soon as the words were out of my mouth I felt stupid for asking. But His Winglessness didn’t seem to mind.

  ‘Indeed, yes.’ Lucifer nodded slowly. ‘To fall away from the brightness of God’s presence, leaving the glory that is Heaven, that was pain enough. Then the stripping away of my angelic powers as I fell to Earth, losing the wonder of flight, that too was challenging and, I believe, rather undeserved. However, I have made a home for myself in Hell. And there are splendours here on Earth. On that note, shall we have some wine?’

  I do like good wine, but I’ve never been able to afford what the waiter brought to the table. It was at this point that I hoped the bill was on the Devil, because it looked like this meal would cost as much as one week’s salary. At least.

  There were no menus, no ordering. Each of the five courses came out in turn, and each was terrific. It was like you’d expect from such an expensive place, small portions on smart plates with lots of careful arrangement. Sometimes I weren’t sure whether I should eat it or put it in an art gallery.

  ‘Ms Foster…’ Lucifer smiled. He wasn’t really handsome, but he wasn’t hard to look at either. There was something around his mouth that made me uneasy, like the way Ben’s lips would go when he was working up into one of his tempers. ‘May I address you as Corrie? I believe that is the name you offer to friends.’

  ‘I didn’t know we were friends,’ I said.

  ‘I hope that we shall be.’

  ‘Then what should I call you?’

  Again that low, dry laugh. ‘I have had many names. Dinner companions call me Lucie.’

  ‘Okay, Lucie.’ I decided it was time to stop acting dazed. I was only having dinner with him, after all, not booking a one-way ticket to Hell. ‘Oh, thanks for inviting me to dinner.’

  ‘And no doubt you wonder, why me?’ He helped himself to some caviar. I was still trying to decide whether I wanted to eat fish eggs. ‘Our organization always investigates the files of those who request our literature.’

  ‘Files?’ I repeated. ‘You have files on people?’

  ‘We have files on everyone.’ He shrugged. ‘Nearly everyone. We have not been granted access to information pertaining to members of the Kingdom. But for our own members, and those have not joined the Kingdom, we have much to choose from. So much easier these days with modern technology. You humans leave such an IT trail of telephone calls, emails, internet postings… In the old days my demons had to spend hours tracking people. Now all of you litter the virtual world with your lives.’

  ‘But why invite me?’

  ‘You are an interesting case.’ Lucie pointed his knife at me. ‘Corina Maria Foster, born thirty-five years ago to Judith Foster and Gerald Stone. Intriguing that your mother decided to change your last name to hers after your father died. Mother not only a member of the Kingdom, which recently underwent a name change to “God’s Gang” in order to appeal to the younger generation, but she has also been recruiter for over twenty-five years. I must admit that we have lost some good people due to your mother. Yours has been a steady if unspectacular career in MidPro after leaving university with a first class degree in history. You specialised in the Victorian period, but from the tone of your final papers I believe you regretted it. Married Benjamin Stokes three years after meeting him and were together for fourteen years. You had a trial separation and now he enjoys the company of a woman ten years your junior and about two trouser sizes thinner.’

  ‘Only one size by now,’ I said, ‘or do you want me to throw this expensive claret over your even more expensive suit?’

  Lucie grinned. ‘I do like fire, both at home and in my associates. You appear unconcerned that I possess so much information.’

  I took a casual sip of wine. Kept my cool. ‘Like you said, you could pick up all of that from public records. Nothing secret in any of that. But keep on trying to impress me. The wine is great.’

  Lucie leaned back in his chair. ‘Shall I quote text messages to you? They become rather steamy from November onwards.’

  The fork dropped from my fingers. I’d always suspected that he gotten serious with Helen in November, but I’d never known for certain. I stared at Lucie, and felt like my brain had frozen.

  ‘What I have been trying to decide,’ Lucie went on, his deep voice very soft, ‘is whether Ben decided to jump before he was pushed.’

  ‘I would never have pushed,’ I protested. Then my brain scrambled back into action. ‘I thought you of all people would approve of betrayal.’

  ‘I’m not people. I’m not human.’ His Darkness grinned. ‘Yes, mine was probably the first betrayal. But at least I was a rebel with a cause. And I had some style. Look how the Kingdom writes about me--I’m compared to a dragon!’ Lucie gave me a toothy grin and I could see why. ‘But if you are determined to have a mid-life crisis, at least do it properly. Pick a young woman to drape over your sports car or to accompany you to Tahiti. Why chase after someone only ten years younger and, I think you’re right, she is only one trouser size down from yours. Where did he find her again? Oh, yes, she lives in the same apartment complex. If only you two hadn’t agreed to that trial separation…’

  The next course had arrived. I carved into what I assumed was some small game bird. Like many members of God’s Gang my mother hardly ever cooks meat. For several minutes we ate in silence while I tried to work out whether I was furious with His Illustriousness or whether I wanted to cheer him on. Finally, I said, ‘No one’s said that to me before. I’m trying to work out if you’re trying to make me feel better or feel really rotten.’

  ‘Oh, Corrie, how you feel is not my concern. And I would have no understanding of your emotions at any rate. I’m an angel. I may be a fallen one, but I’m still an angel. I let Jesus do the becoming human angle, for whatever good this has done him. Two thousand years living like one of you… I cannot comprehend how he endures the sensation.’

  ‘My mother says he did it for us.’ I waved my fork at him. ‘I mean, for us humans. So he could win the Earth back from you and set up the Kingdom. By the way, you might be an angel, but I can always tell when someone’s laughing at me.’

  ‘What do you expect?’ he asked. ‘Now you are so angry that you’re defending Jesus. Be careful. Next you know, you will apply to join God’s Gang.’

  �
��It would be an interesting application form,’ I said. ‘Question One, “What has led you to apply for God’s Gang?” Answer, “I had dinner with His Darkness.”’

  Lucifer was suddenly very serious. ‘Remember that. It may be a good answer.’

  Now it was my turn to laugh. ‘I can’t see me ever using it.’

  We finally talked about other things. Lucie told me a bit about Hell. Every member of Devil’s Due goes there, of course, but lots of them don’t believe that they deserve to when they get there. ‘The lawyers are the worst, they always try to find a legal loophole in the contract.’ Members of God’s Gang end up in Sheol. It’s a bit less certain with people who haven’t signed up to either. I didn’t like the sound of that. I mean, I don’t want to be a member of God’s Gang, but I don’t see why that should land me in Hell. I’m basically a good person, after all, I pay my taxes and I try to be nice to my mother. I never forget birthdays and I’ve never cheated on an exam. Hell is for other people, like people who drown kittens.

  Dinner over. Cheeses like I’d never seen or smelled before came out with biscuits. And port so old that I felt like a baby sitting next to the bottle. The first glassful made me wish I’d eaten less food to leave more room for port.

  ‘The port appeals to you?’ Lucie asked. I suppose I was holding my glass like it would have to be prised from my dead fingers.

  ‘It’s okay,’ I said. There, I thought, read that emotion, you fallen angel you. How clever are you, really?

  We had a good laugh about a new TV programme. It’s meant to be about two detectives, but it’s so obviously designed to help recruit people to God’s Gang that no one’s watching it except people already in God’s Gang. ‘And the walk on part by the Peter,’ I added, ‘was so obvious! Of course she’s going to be the one who gives them the major clue.’

  ‘At least that was preferable to the Andrew appearing as an informer,’ Lucie said. ‘The Peter can act. The Andrew simply cannot. I do wonder why Jesus has chosen these people. I am far more discerning in my choice of associates.’

  ‘Whatever.’ I couldn’t care less about the Twelve.

  ‘This Judas will be different.’ Lucie gave me a look I couldn’t read. ‘It will be very different this time.’

  Go to my website, www.chryscymri.com to find out more

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  About the Author

  Priest by day, writer at odd times of the day and night, I live with a small green parrot called Xander because the upkeep for a dragon is beyond my current budget. Plus I’m responsible for making good any flame damage to church property. I love ‘Doctor Who’, landscape photography, single malt whisky, and my job, in no particular order. When I’m not looking after a small parish church in the Midlands (England) I like to go on far flung adventures to places like Peru, New Zealand, and the Arctic.

  Discover titles by Chrys Cymri

  Dragons Can Only Rust

  Dragon Reforged

  The Dragon Throne

  The Unicorn Throne

  The Judas Disciple

  The Temptation of Dragons

  The Cult of Unicorns

  The Marriage of Gryphons

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