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.
'What do we tell the girls?' wondered Japeth 'They might get upset if they find out.'
'My advice to you is to drug them along with that rabbit creature,' said the Lord. 'Just put something in their tea, and when they wake up it'll be all over and you'll be singing sea shanties and playing poker.'
The boys nodded and looked at each other. 'Well, we'd better start getting those animals aboard, and somebody should wire Bunny to tell her to hurry up that girl, Mrs Munde's daughter. She's doing the birds and reptiles, I think. Is that right, Dad?'
Noah nodded. If Mrs Munde hadn't lost her arm he might have tried to persuade the Lord to make it nine, or maybe even done without Bunny Mix; but he couldn't be expected to run a charity and he'd been good to her while it lasted, giving her stable employment and her own choice of pans for all these years. He sighed. The old order changes, giving way to the new. He could deal with it...
Desi in her bush was horrified. She wasn't going to get on that boat and spend the rest of her life living with those lunatics and that self-aggrandising Being. She'd rather take her chance on the dining room table with Marlene and Gloria. She waited till the car slid off in a skid of dust, then scrambled back to her horse. Should she go straight to Rita and Sheila? No, she didn't think that would work and she had more than a suspicion that Rita and Sheila would be out for their own skins, not the collective skin. Much better that she make it to Bees of Paradise and talk it out with the others. If she used the horse she should be there at about the time they made it back from Nineveh. Her mind too full to think clearly, she hit the road, wondering if a horse could tread water for forty days.
In the car, Noah and the boys were arguing about how much they should take in the way of luxury goods and essentials. Food and tools they agreed on, and seeds and animals grain. What they couldn't agree on were the relative merits of gin and bourbon or who should be allowed to choose what kind of soap they needed to start a new world.
'What are the girls going to say if there's no Martini?' fretted Shem.
'And if they won't cooperate we can't get on with the new race,' said Ham.
'I say we take hard stuff,' insisted Japeth. 'Forty days on a fucking boat with a pile of animals. You can wake me up when it's all over.'
'Young people,' fumed Noah, as he swerved the car round and round the hairpin bends that led home. 'You young people have no stamina, no instinct for survival. You just care about clean bed linen and aftershave. It was different in my day, when you came from nowhere and you were going nowhere unless you got your hands dirty. Perhaps I've failed as a father. Perhaps I gave you too much?' and he became so emotional that he was forced to let Japeth take over the driving.
When the men reached home they found Rita and Sheila fresh from the hairdresser's feeling, in their own words, like a million dollars.
'I hate women who use clichés,' grumbled Noah to himself, but he didn't say anything because he was still feeling insecure about his role as a father, and wondering if he'd made a big mistake all those years ago letting a super-powered ice-cream cone loose on the world. He'd made money and he'd had a few laughs, but what did that mean now he was going to be reduced to a tiller of the soil? He had an uncomfortable feeling that someone somewhere was giggling at his expense.
Morosely, he peeled a pear with the inlaid fruit knife his first wife had given him as a wedding present. Suddenly he came over sentimental. Grace? - why did you have to die? Why did you have to leave me alone with three sons and a hole in my best cabin cruiser? Women — why did they always run out on you at the last moment? Just when you needed them most? Just when you'd worked to get the family home up to scratch, proper carpets, nice three-piece suite, boys at a good school ... and then Grace had to take up fencing. Said she needed the exercise. What for? What did women have to take exercise for? It was a fad. Bunny Mix was just as bad with those roller skates. Still, he'd make sure they got thrown overboard. But Grace — and tears came into his eyes - she'd persuaded him to buy her a nice sword, the right weight, and an outfit and then one day she'd fallen on top of the blade, split right down the middle like an over-ripe avocado, and they'd had to get her spliced together again for the funeral.
It was after that he'd started to invent things: harmless things at first like walkie-talkies and learn-to-talk tapes for parrots. Then it had got more ambitious, more sinister; but it wasn't his fault, was it? He was a man pushed by grief and she had grieved him. An idea occurred to Noah at that moment: when he sat down to re-draft Genesis, he'd make sure everyone knew where the blame lay. Women; they're all the same...
When Marlene and Gloria tumbled into Marlene's room with a pair of disgruntled hoopoes and just enough time to have a wash before supper, they found Desi already sitting in the bath-tub.
'Have I got news for you two! Want to hear it?'
'Can't darling,' said Marlene, breathless. 'We've got to show for supper and one of Bunny's little readings, otherwise she'll be right up here and you'll be in trouble. Tell us when we get back.'
'Typical,' thought Desi savagely. 'The world's about to end and they run off to a poetry reading,' and she rubbed harder with the pumice stone.
Soup had already been served as Gloria and Marlene slid into their places, carrying the hoopoes who were now irate as well as disgruntled. Frantically Marlene gestured to a waiter. 'Get me some party sausages will you? My bird's just dying of hunger.'
She might just as well have asked for a bucket of vomit. The waiter stared at her coldly, then shouted something in a foreign language to one of the others. Gloria could tell it was rude because he finished each sentence with 'Hah!' and a spitting noise; but they got the sausages, and the tall bird screamed with delight and gobbled them all up while the short bird just sat and looked sad because he hadn't been fed at all that day.
'We have to get something else for this one,' decided Marlene firmly. 'Eh, garçon, ici,' she called. Unwillingly the waiter returned. He hated women who tried to speak French when they couldn't. But Marlene demanded the cheeseboard and a selection of crudités, and to her relief the small bird made whoops of delight as soon as he saw the celery sticks stuffed with garlic pâté. When he had eaten six he fell asleep on the green baize floor. Quickly Marlene threw her shawl over the cage. 'Let's leave them here till after the reading. If they make a sound while she's at it, we won't get out of this health farm, let alone survive a global flood.'
Gloria nodded, and together they went into the hall. Marlene had stolen a few bits of cheese to keep them going. 'Lowers the acidity level in your mouth — useful for when we have to compliment her afterwards.'
The hall was packed with rustling people from exotic places. The dashing rabbit of romance had arranged herself in the centre of the stage, flanked on both sides by towers of flowers in colours she thought matched and contrasted with her clothes. In fact they matched her hair and clashed with her frock, but no one seemed to notice. She was back-lit with a pink gel spot, and music from her album of love songs recorded with the Nineveh Philharmonic Orchestra filled what space there was left in the hall. Most of the guests had programmes.
'I do like an orchestra,' said Gloria, by way of conversation.
'It's an anagram of carthorse,
' replied Marlene airily.
Then Bunny stood up and there was rapturous applause. She was holding her book of poems.
'My friends,' she began, 'I want to welcome you all to another of my special evenings. I have a very distinguished guest for you tonight who's come all the way from Andorra just to be with us, and I know we appreciate that.' (Murmurs of appreciation rippled through the audience and Bunny smiled.) 'Yes we do, I do too. But first, though it wasn't my intention, I have been persuaded to read to you a few of my poems from my forthcoming book which is receiving so much attention in the press. I have called this collection If On A Summer's Night, A Bee ... because it's about flowers and love and moonlight and those things in life we hold most dear. Ladies and gentlemen, may I start with the title poem?'
There was another round of applause and she cleared her throat.
If on a summer's night a bee
Should make honey for you
For you and me.
Be glad.
For we, and the bee
Are really one.
Joined together
By blossom.
As soon as she had finished the audience leapt to its feet as if it were the Hallelujah Chorus, as if the building were on fire, and cried out with one voice: 'More.' They stamped. 'More, more.'
Winningly Bunny Mix blushed and held her hands in the air until the noise had subsided; then she spoke again, her voice rich and full. She agreed to read just two more poems, then they really must buy the book for themselves; but for the moment she would offer her lyric poem, 'Hyacinths', about stumbling on a sweep of hyacinths and enjoying it, and her more serious and stirring 'Ode On A Grecian Parrot', which said how parrots seemed to transcend time by living so long - which was enviable — but how they couldn't kiss each other - which was their shortcoming.
The audience was rampant by the end of these two, and she promised that they could place orders after the evening so that the very first copies would arrive on their very own doorsteps. Generously, because she liked to show that the very great care for the not-very-great, she promised to autograph the first fifty orders that came her way.
'And now,' she crooned, 'our special guest for tonight. Will you please welcome Miss Tawdry Slattern who's going to tell us all about her revolutionary P-Plan diet.'
The woman on Bunny's right stood up and, after a few moments of effusive praise about everything she could see, began her lecture.
'Ladies, what I have discovered will alter your lives once and for all time; gentlemen, you can have the woman of your dreams, because my new discovery will turn your wives into just that. Remember when every belt notched on the last hole? When the smallest skirt was never too right? Those lost days can become a reality again. You can walk out of here tonight knowing that tomorrow you begin a new life, a life without embarrassment, a life where you will be able to say «Yes» to any invitation — whether it is a beach party or a seductive little dinner for two. From now on your body won't let you down.
'We all long for romance, don't we? We all tremble with those sylphlike heroines who fill the pages of this wonderful lady's books? We've all imagined ourselves swept away, and then how bitterly realised that it's not the same in a pantie girdle. Too many of us lead a size ten fantasy life with a thirty-inch waistline. How can your man carry you through the puddles of life when he can't get his arms around your middle? We have to think what men want, as well as what we want to eat. We need their strong bodies, they need our shapely selves. It's called exchange, it's called balance, the mysterious Yin and Yang, but most of all — and I don't have to tell you this — it's called love. Love lies waiting there for each one of us if only we make that extra effort.
'I used to be a Marriage Guidance Counsellor before I became a millionaire, and I saw so many couples whose lives had broken down over too many oven chips and late night cookies. I'd turn to the woman and I'd say: «Slim; your future is in your next meal.» As time passed I became more and more interested in the nutritional side of our lives. I have always wanted to help women reach their true potential, and one day, by accident and hard work, I found the formula we need.
'In this suitcase, yes suitcase, not briefcase, I have letters of gratitude from the hundreds of women I have been able to set on the right path. We are what we eat, ladies. There is no better tonic than the body tonic. Of course, like all the really worthwhile things in life, my treatment isn't cheap; but I know that you wouldn't want to be insulted with cut-price gimmicks. No, the P-Plan diet is for the discerning woman everywhere, and like all brilliant ideas it's very simple.
'I discovered it when my son was constipated. I hazarded that if I gave him as much water as he could possibly drink then he'd start to pee, and on the toilet one thing does lead to another. It worked. It made him look brighter, feel better and he did lose an awful lot of weight, which I was glad about because he was quite chubby. My husband thinks he lost too much; but then we did keep him on nothing but water for three weeks and as I said to Derek after the funeral, «We've made an enormous scientific breakthrough and we can always have another baby.»
'However, when you start my fabulous P-Plan it's wise to have a friend who will monitor your fluctuations, because after the first few days you can get a bit lightheaded and go too far. We women are emotional. The other thing is that it does demand a sacrifice at the start; you're going to be on the toilet a lot, so it's a good idea to have your dinner parties at home rather than risk the queue for the loo in a strange place; and, darlings, with the best will in the world the opera is out. Now I'm going to close here, and you can ask me questions and sign up at that table over there. Thank you all very much.'
Once again the audience went quite wild: indeed, for most it must have been one of the fuller emotional evenings of their lives. A moment later huge mounds of stout women had gathered round the table, signing up for a course of bottled water. Bunny was kissing anyone who passed her lips and saying how enchanted she was.
'Let's leave and get a drink,' urged Marlene — but it was too late. Bunny had seen them and was floating across the room, accepting compliments as she came.
'How nice,' she cooed, holding out her hands. 'I'm glad you got back. But did you get the birds?'
'Yes,' said Gloria. 'Both of them. They're asleep under a table.'
'How very bizarre,' commented Bunny. 'Still, I suppose you know what you're doing. Now I have an important message. Noah wants you to go back with whatever you've got tomorrow. I told him your assistants had been out collecting the minor pieces and that you were doing the really difficult things, and he said to be sure and get a pair of toads and then come straight back. He wants to get on with the ship scene. So could you leave in the morning? I know it's a bind, but you'll have to get the toads now, won't you? In the dark? Well, I'll see you soon, I'm sure,' and she twirled back into the excited throng.
'Well, that proves it, doesn't it? Let's go and see Desi,' said Gloria.
Desi was out of the bath and reading a detective novel. She greeted them with some cynicism. 'Now that your souls are full can you apply your minds to this little problem, perhaps?'
'No,' said Marlene firmly. 'We've got to collect a pair of toads.'
Desi leapt to her feet. 'Toads? Are you mad? First it's poetry and now it's toads. Don't you understand we're in a state of emergency?'
'Desi,' began Gloria, about to be comforting, but Marlene butted in.
'Just what do you think 'we can do? What evidence have we got? We might as well go and collect toads in our last hours. It's not going to make any difference. We're not going to make any difference, but the toads just might, being watery and not eating much, and ...' her voice trailed off and she started to cry.
'She's right you know,' said the orange demon sympathetically. They turned towards the voice and saw the creature sitting beside Marlene's stuffed bird. 'No one's going to believe you, but the toads are important. Tell them what you heard today Desi,' and while Desi explained how Noah and the boys had
fixed everything the demon hopped off and made them some hot milk.
'Now listen,' it ordered. 'Unlike the rest of you, I'm not bound by the vagaries of this plot. I can move backwards and forwards and I can tell you that God will flood the world, Noah will float away and unless you lot do your best to stay alive there won't be anyone left to spread the word about what really happened. It doesn't even matter if you forget what really happened; if you need to, invent something else. The vital thing is to have an alternative so that people will realise that there's no such thing as a true story. I'm depending on you. History and literature down the centuries are depending on you. Are you willing to let that baldie and his mad family rewrite the world without any interruptions? Or can I trust you?'
'Just us?' questioned Gloria timidly. 'Just the three of us?'
'Well,' considered the demon, 'you could ask Doris. She's still upset about having to be an unbelieving crone in what she thinks is Noah's film. I expect she'd throw in her lot with you. Talk to her in the morning. I'll let her know you're coming.'
'And how are we going to survive the hurricanes and the food problem?' Desi wanted to know. 'If we take a boat they'll find out.'
'Pack up a collapsible dinghy each and as much food as you can trail behind in a watertight container. Hide it all in the attic of this hotel. They know me there. You'll be safe. It might work, or it might not, but you can try.'
'If you're so smart how come you can't tell us whether or not we'll survive?' asked Marlene, feeling put out.
Boating for Beginners Page 11
