“Just turned fourteen,” said Ron. “Closer to thirteen, actually.”
“Oh! What’s she been borrowing?”
“I don’t know. I would think the usual suspects,” said Ron meditatively.
“Lolita,” said Linda, with disgust. “I bet. Slaughterhouse-Five.”
“Wuthering Heights,” said Ron. “Very strange.”
“Wuthering Heights! That’s not Unshelved,” said Linda.
“We read it at school,” said Ron. “I found it very strange.”
“American Psycho,” said Linda. “That’s what we’re talking about here, Ron. Filth.”
“Sex and the City,” said Ron.
“That’s a TV program,” said Linda.
“But I suppose girls mature more quickly…”
“Have you ever read American Psycho?” said Linda.
“I’m more of a Patrick O’Brian man myself,” said Ron.
“You could live till a hundred and twenty and still not be old enough to read that sort of filth!” said Linda. And then, “Filth!” she repeated, for good measure.
“Patrick O’Brian?” said Ron. “Aubrey and Maturin? There’s nothing wrong with them, so there’s not.”
“No! American Psycho,” said Linda. “That sort of stuff. Denigrating to women.”
“Bad books,” said Ron.
“Exactly!” said Linda, adjusting the angle of her beret. “Bad books. Have you any idea how damaging this is to our reputation as a responsible library service? When I get a hold of that idiot I am going to…”
Israel, who had no idea that Linda was on the bad books warpath, waved to her from his table on the other side of the room, and was about to call out in greeting when the Reverend England Roberts announced, “Let’s get busy with the quizzy!” and the one hundred plus people crammed into the back room of the First and Last suddenly quietened, put down their-mostly nonalcoholic-drinks and took up their pencils.
Because if it was the last Friday night of the month-and it was-then it was Fish and Chip Biblical Quiz Night in Tumdrum. The idea for Fish and Chip Biblical Quiz Nights had come originally from a friend of the Reverend Roberts, a man named Francie McGinn, a millionaire minister who ran his own rapidly growing house church movement and Chris tian franchise business a little way down the coast from Tumdrum. Francie McGinn’s inspiration was an American pastor called Rick Warren, founder of the phenomenally successful Saddleback Church in southern Orange County, California, and author of the New York Times number-one bestselling The Purpose-Driven Life, The Purpose-Driven Church, The Purpose-Driven Life Journal, and The Purpose-Driven Life Scripture Keeper Plus. Pastor Warren’s was a kick-ass-go-getting-positive-mental-attitude-plus-sacrificial-prayerfulness kind of a philosophy, which Francie McGinn, after facing a number of personal and financial difficulties and setbacks, had taken seriously and taken on board and had applied diligently to his own life and work, managing to build up both his congregation and a range of businesses, which now included the very popular chain of Family Viewing DVD rental shops, the nationwide Christian Eventides Homes, and the Jacob’s Well Christian day spas and nail and beauty bars. Francie had also acquired the UK and Irish distribution rights for a range of Christian snack bars and health drinks, which meant that throughout the length and breadth of the land, from the supermarkets of County Down to the corner-shops of County Cork, you could now purchase the Seeds of Samson (“A Holy Good Mixture of Sunflower Seeds, Pumpkin Seeds, Cashews, and Peanuts”), and a range of-mostly honey-based-Sweet Shalom Smoothies, the Lion Bar of Judah, Land of Beulah Yogurt-Coated Raisins, and Jacob’s Ladder energy drinks (“We Are Climbing Jacob’s Ladder, with Added Ginseng”), all of which came with inspirational scripture verses prominently displayed on their packaging.
Fish and Chip Biblical Quiz Nights were one of Francie McGinn’s rather more niche ideas. Churches subscribed online to a complete Biblical Quiz Night package and were then able to use the material either as an evangelism tool, or as an alternative to traditional Bible study groups, or as a means of congregation team-building, like white-water rafting or paintballing. The Reverend England Roberts, Tumdrum’s incongruously black South African Presbyterian minister, preferred to use the quiz nights as a simple excuse for a good night out, and he stood proudly now, microphone in one hand, Diet Coke in the other, at the back bar of the First and Last, wearing his Lord of the Rings-style “One King to Rule Them All, One Son to Find Them, One Love to Bring Them All, One Spirit to Bind Them” T-shirt.
“Pencils at the ready!” he boomed.
Israel had been dragged along by his landlady, George Devine, and her grandfather, old Mr. Devine. Mr. Devine had come in his usual garb of flat cap, ancient stained suit, and sturdy shoes, but George had dressed up: she was out of her usual dungarees and wearing a green velvety dress with a little cardigan and these pointy little shoes, and her raven hair was swept back from her face, and she was wearing earrings, and it looked as though she was maybe wearing makeup. She looked like a 1940s film star: Israel was thinking maybe Dorothy Lamour, in Road to Zanzibar, with Bob Hope and Bing Crosby, one of the DVDs he’d been watching when he’d been lying in bed, thinking…
About Gloria. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He’d texted her earlier. No reply. Gloria was more Lana Turner than Dorothy Lamour. And Lana Turner in The Postman Always Rings Twice. She had so many clothes and shoes, Gloria, he wondered sometimes if she was maybe a shopaholic. When they’d first been together and they were students, she’d been fine, but then she’d got the big legal job with the firm and she’d had to upgrade. And as she’d been promoted she’d upgraded again and again, until the only thing she hadn’t upgraded was Israel. And so eventually she’d upgraded him. In the good old days they’d go shopping together to secondhand shops and Camden Market, but then she’d moved on to Next and Monsoon and then it was Ghost, and finally little places that she knew in Kensington and Chelsea that friends had recommended, with Israel sloping along after her while she bought clothes and shoes, although somehow she would never have the right shoes to go with the clothes or the right clothes to go with the shoes, and if Israel liked it, it was wrong, and if he didn’t, it was wrong, so he felt like he couldn’t win, and of course in the end, he hadn’t. He’d lost.
“Question one,” said the reverend. “How many books are there in the Bible? And for our Jewish brothers and sisters in tonight,” he added-
“Hooray!” said Israel, pathetically, alone. He felt one hundred pairs of Christian eyes bore into him.
“-I am referring to the Christian Bible. That’s question one, brothers and sisters: how many books are there in the Bible?”
“God, I have no idea,” said Israel, turning to his companions.
“Do not use the Lord’s name in vain,” said old Mr. Devine.
“Shit, sorry!” said Israel.
“Sssh,” said George, nudging him, but not unpleasantly, thought Israel, not in the way she might usually nudge him. She’d been very kind to him since he’d been holed up in bed for two weeks. Maybe it was the beard.
“Sixty-six,” whispered old Mr. Devine.
“Really?” said Israel. “Are you sure?”
“As sure as there’s an eye in a goat,” said Mr. Devine, narrowing his already narrow eyes under his cap.
“Right. And of course there is an eye in a goat,” said Israel.
“Aye,” said Mr. Devine.
“Unless it’s a blind goat!” said Israel, who had already finished his second pint of Guinness and started, unwisely, on his third. “Boom boom!”
“Sixty-six,” repeated Mr. Devine.
“Isn’t that like the number of the beast?” said Israel.
“That’s six-six-six,” said George, who was drinking sparkling mineral water.
“Oh. Right. I don’t know if I’m going to get many of these.”