Read Some Rain Must Fall for Free Online

queueing in the off-licence again. To buy time, she cleared the empty bottles from the boot, gathered them to her breast and walked towards the cliff edge with them. From a safe distance she lobbed them over, listening as always for the sound of their fall, which never, ever came. Then she walked back to her car. Suicide Point was growing cold.

SISTER JENNIFER
    closed herself in, drank a little more of the wine, and put on her parka for the night.

Toy Story
    GOD PLAYED ALONE: there were no other children where he lived. It meant, at least, that he didn’t have to share any of the cool stuff he found round the back of the abandoned universe. Everything was automatically his.
    The abandoned universe was such a weird place, because even though it had been shut down for ever, there were still lights on inside, as if nothing had changed. And, round the back, there was always new garbage, more discarded fragments of the impossible dream, more cogs and gaskets from the innards of infinity.
    One day, rummaging in the trash, God found something especially good: a planet. He lifted it out of the bin, grasping it enthusiastically at first, then more gingerly; for even though it had survived intact till now, it was oddly fragile. Underneath his small fingers, the planet’s protective coating of atmosphere had given way and he’d felt the powdery surface of its earth directly against his skin. Now he held the globe by its white poles and surveyed the damage … Had it been a perfect sphere to begin with? If so, it was ever-so-slightly ovoid now. The dusting of earth on his fingertips was bleeding into the atmosphere like a sprinkling of cinnamon on the vanilla extremes of north and south. On the scuffed and dented continents, a few new lakes were forming. Apart from this, there was no harm done.
    God sat down, his back against the fence, and examinedhis prize. It was a blue and green world, with more sea on it than land, warm and aromatic. He put his nose close to the atmosphere and sniffed. There was a heady layer of something chillingly astringent, like pine or ozone, and, beneath that, the mingled scents of loamy soil, of baked crust, of equatorial compost, of salty soupy seas and sweet effervescent rivers. It was the most marvellous thing God had ever smelled.
    He had to take his planet home with him immediately, despite the possibility that there was even better stuff to be found in the rest of the garbage today. After all, someone might come along and snatch his world away from him, or tell him to put it back where he’d found it, because it was too dangerous a thing for a child to play with.
    Struggling to his feet, he almost dropped the planet from between his fingers, which had grown numb with cold. He experimented with holding the globe differently, using the palms of his hands, fingers slackened, to spread the pressure. This was a success: perhaps the planet was less fragile than it had first appeared. He stood holding it like this for a while, allowing the tropical seam to warm his hands until the sensitivity returned to his fingertips.
    Walking slowly home, mindful of the road, God carried his extraordinary find, revolving it whenever its changing weather began to prickle the flesh of his palms. Eventually he was bold enough to try embracing the planet. Again, success. By the time God was almost home, he was running, the planet cradled securely in the crook of one arm.
    He hung it up in his bedroom, suspended from the ceiling. It was the only place for it, really. Resting it on a surface, like a table or a dresser, was too risky: some part of it might get gradually squashed, or come to grief for lack of light, or perhaps the whole globe might even roll off and be smashed on the floor. He’d considered keeping it on the floor to beginwith, but this was out of the question too: he might kick it in a moment of carelessness or fury, and besides, it was too beautiful a thing to look down on.
    So, he dangled it from the light