Dear God Read Online Free Page B

put on his new yellow cap as he went out and left the cat in the sitting room. Dimly he realised that with the new entrance and exit arrangements for the cat he would have to clear up the kitchen and put the food away. Bloody animal.
    In the newsagent’s he bought the nearest paper to hand, which dealt with some juicy scandal on the front page. “You live next door to Mrs. Brenner, don’t you?” said the newsagent.
    “Yes, why?” said William, still in a belligerent mood.
    “Poor lady’s in St Anne’s Hospital,” said the man. “Not doing too well. Had a nasty fall.”
    William thought for a second or two. Mrs Brenner needs further TLC floated across his mind. “St. Anne’s you say?”
    “Yes.”
    Back in the house he went to see his new possession. He sat on it, felt all the instrumentation, longed to take it out. Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow. He couldn’t wait for tomorrow. When was the last time he had looked forward to tomorrow?
    The evening passed well enough. Jimmy expressed amazement at his cream trousers, his jacket and yellow baseball cap. They had a couple of pints to celebrate his smart appearance. Then another two to make sure they knew what was what, as Jimmy put it, and a further three or four just to round things off. By the time he got back home William was well away. He went into the sitting room and collapsed on to the sofa. “Must do something about the garden,” he announced to an uninterested cat. “Must make a shopping list. Have you had another bloody sausage?” Then he fell asleep and did not wake up until half-past nine the next morning.
    When he woke up he rolled off the sofa and shook his head to clear it, which it didn’t do. In the kitchen, he was amazed to see the red buggy and no sign of his table but gradually his memory came back. He found some food and milk for the cat, who was by now a fixture, it seemed. He had some toast and an assortment of pills, as he didn’t remember having had any for a while. He had a drink.
    Right. Now for it. He unplugged the machine and folded the wire back into the slot at the back. He decided to go out the back way, so opened the door, sat on the buggy and switched it on. He put it into gear and the machine moved forward, through the doorway. Oh, the joy of movement! Wonderful feeling. Then he hit the table.
    He managed to stop. Now what? He got off and moved the table and considered the situation. It was raining. He was going to get very, very wet. Oh no he wasn’t. He remembered the umbrella. He studied the buggy. There were two spring slots on the side, intended to carry walking sticks. If he could twist one of them to hold the umbrella upright, he would be fine. He went back into the house and fetched the umbrella. After a few minutes, struggling, he had got the umbrella upright and held firmly. He opened it up. It was large, he had to admit, but it would shield him well from the rain. It was not centrally placed above the driving seat but a foot or two to the right, of course, but it was big enough to shelter him adequately. He also put on his baseball cap. He put a couple of bottles of beer into the small container at the front.
    It was then that he had his idea. If he were to go to St. Anne’s, which was only about a mile away, he could visit Mrs. Brenner. She might not be too pleased to see him, or he to see her, but there again, he would have done his best. And – here was the really, really splendid thing – he could take the cat with him. If he could get the cat into the carrying basket and close it, and put the cloth over it, and if it would fit into the big basket at the back of the buggy, then he would be well sorted! She would really like that, he thought.
    This he managed to do. The cat squawked a fair bit when he closed the front up but when he put the cloth over it, it went quiet. It slotted into the basket at the back of the machine perfectly. With great pride and a degree of panache he set off.
    He didn’t go on the