The Only Problem

I’m analysing the God of Job, as I say. We are back to the Inscrutable. If the answers are valid then it is the questions that are all cock-eyed.

Job 38, 2—3: Who is this that

darkeneth counsel by words

without knowledge?

Gird up now thy loins like

a man; for I will demand of thee,

and answer thou me.

I find that the self-styled friends and comforters in Job are distinguished one from the other only by their names. Otherwise, they are identical in their outlook. I now suspect they are the criminal- investigation team of their time and place. They were sent in, one after the other, it now seems to me, to interrogate Job, always on the same lines, trying to trip him up. He could only insist on his innocence. They acted as the representatives of the God of the Old Testament. They were the establishment of that theocratic society.

It is therefore first God’s representatives and finally God himself who ask the questions in Job’s book.

Now I hope you’ll tell Ruth she can come here with Clara when the trouble’s over, and have her baby. I’m quite willing to take on your old trousers, Edward, and you know I wish you well in your new pair, your new life.

Yours,

Harvey

PART THREE

ELEVEN

‘So the Lord blessed the latter end of Job more than his beginning.’ It was five days since Stewart Cowper had left for California. He had telephoned once, to say he had difficulty in getting the feature identified which Auntie Pet had seen, but he felt he was on the track of it now. There definitely had been a news item of that nature.

‘Ring me as soon as you know,’ said Harvey.

Meantime, since he was near the end of his monograph on Job, he finished it. The essay had taken him over three years to complete. He was sad to see his duty all ended, his notes in the little room of the cottage now neatly stacked, and his manuscript, all checked and revised, ready to be photocopied and mailed to the typist in London (Stewart Cowper’s pretty secretary).

The work was finished and the Lord had blessed the latter end of Job with precisely double the number of sheep, camels, oxen and sheasses that he had started out with. Job now had seven sons and three daughters, as before. The daughters were the most beautiful in the land. They were called Jemima, Kezia and Kerenhappuch which means Box of Eye-Paint. Job lived another hundred and forty years. And Harvey wondered again if in real life Job would be satisfied with this plump reward, and doubted it. His tragedy was that of the happy ending.

He took his manuscript to St Die, had it photocopied and sent one copy off to London to be typed. He was anxious to get back to the chateau in case Stewart should ring with news. He hadn’t told Auntie Pet of Stewart’s mission, but somehow she had found out, as was her way, and had mildly lamented that her story should be questioned.

‘You’re just like the police,’ she said. ‘They didn’t actually say they didn’t believe me, but I could see they didn’t.’

He got back to the chateau just in time to hear the telephone. It was from the police at Epinal.

‘You have no doubt heard the news, M. Gotham.’

‘No. What now?’

‘The FLE gang were surrounded and surprised an hour ago in an apartment in Paris. They opened fire on our men. I regret to say your wife has been killed. You will come to Paris to identify the body.’

‘I think my wife is in California.’

‘We take into account your state of mind, Monsieur, but we should be obliged if—’

Anne-Marie was standing in the doorway with her head buried in her hands.

L’Institut Medico-Legal in Paris. Her head was bound up, turban-wise, so that she looked more than ever like Job’s wife. Her mouth was drawn slightly to the side.

‘You recognise your wife, Effie Gotham?’

‘Yes, but this isn’t my wife. Where is she? Bring me my wife’s body.’

‘M. Gotham, you are overwrought. It displeases us all very much. You must know that this is your wife.’

‘Yes, it’s my wife, Effie.’

‘She opened fire. One of our men was wounded.’

‘The boy?’

‘Nathan Fox. We have him. He was caught while trying to escape. Harvey felt suddenly relieved at the thought that Nathan wasn’t in California with Effie.

The telephone rang when, finally, he got back to the chateau. It was from Stewart. ‘I’ve seen a re-play of the feature, Harvey,’ he said. ‘It looks like Effie but it isn’t.’

‘I know,’ said Harvey.

He said to Auntie Pet, ‘Did you really think it was Effie in that mountain commune? How could you have thought so?’

‘I did think so,’ said Auntie Pet. ‘And I still think so. That’s the sort of person Effie is.’