Waiting For Godalming by Robert Rankin

Author:Robert Rankin
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9789085241522
Publisher: For the Benefit of Mr. Kite
Published: 1999-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

“And that’s it?” said I. “It’s, well, it’s brief.”

“Very brief,” said Eartha. “But surely, if I recall my scripture,” I said, “it clearly states that the meek are supposed to inherit the Earth.” Eartha made the kind of face that Joseph Merrick made a living out of. “It’s my Earth!” She shouted, rattling my ceiling fan and damn near having the remnants of my hat off. “He gave it to me as a birthday present.”

“Ma’am,” said I, as I straightened my flambeaued fedora. “Ma’am, please, surely now God is dead, you are in complete control of everything. I mean, you just sorted out the weather with a wave of your lily-white hand. You can do whatever you want, can’t you? I mean, you could just zap the will and forget all about it?”

“No, Mr Wormwood, I can not do that. There are protocols to be observed. Even God had to abide by certain rules. Now I want you to investigate this, Mr Wormwood. I want you to find out who put the hit on my husband and what this will is all about.”

“Ma’am,” I said. “With all due respect. I do know my business and in cases such as these, it’s usually the person who has the most to gain from the death of the subject who’s the guilty party. I don’t wish to cause any offence here. But I reckon your son Colin is in the frame for this one.”

“If that is the case,” She said, “then so be it and I will deal with Colin myself. But I want proof, Mr Wormwood. Absolute proof. I want to know the truth about what happened to my husband and why. And you are going to find that truth for me, aren’t you, Mr Wormwood?”

“Ma’am,” I said, “you can rely on me.”

“Yes, I know that I can. Because if you fail to deliver, within one week from today, I shall visit upon you such torment that even the devil himself will turn his face away from the horror. Do I make myself absolutely clear?”

“Absolutely, ma’am,” said I. And boy, did I need the toilet.

She didn’t leave in a puff of smoke, or anything fancy like that. She just kind of got off my chair and dragged Her big butt out of my door. No thank yous, no fond farewells and no sweet goodbye kisses. Off She went and that was that and I was left alone. Alone! “Er, Barry,” I called. “Barry, my dear little pea green buddy. Where are you, Barry, my friend?” In my head was silence. Stillness. Hush. “Barry,” I called. “Where are you, Barry?” In my head was quietude. Tranquillity. Dead calm. “Barry, dear Barry. Where are you?”

“Sorry, chief. I was having a nap. Have I missed anything?”

“Barry! You little…” I pummelled at my skull. “You traitorous cur, you lowdown dirty…”

“Leave it out, chief. Stop. Oh ouch! Oh ow!”

“You could have warned me, you lowdown double-dealing…”

“Chief, what could I do? I—”

“You let me walk in here and insult God’s widow and now I’m in deeper doo than a coprophile in a cow manure Jacuzzi.

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