Dodger

messages from God?’
    Solomon sighed as he began the business of unlocking his door. ‘Mmm, well now,’ he said, ‘if one day you gave up messing about in . . . well, mess, I might talk to you about the works of Spinoza, a philosopher who might broaden your mind – because, as far as I can see, there’s plenty of room – and pass on the nature of atheism, which most certainly questions the belief in God. As for me, some days I believe in God, and some days I do not.’
    Then Dodger said, ‘Is that allowed?’
    Solomon pushed the door open and then fussily began locking it up again behind them. ‘Dodger, you fail to understand the unique arrangements between Jewish people and God.’ He looked over at Onan, and added, ‘We are not always in agreement. You ask about angels. I speak of people. But who, for instance, are humans to sanction love to themselves alone? Where there is love there must mmm surely be a soul; yet curiously the Lord appears to believe that only humans have souls. I have explained to Him at length why He should mmm reconsider His stance on the matter, especially since, quite some time ago and before I met you, I was once confronted by an agitated gentleman possessed of a belief that all Jews should die, and also of a very large metal bar – a circumstance, may I add, that I was not mmm unfamiliar with in any case. Onan, who wasn’t much more than a puppy at that time, valiantly bit him in the unmentionables, thereby distracting him so that I could lay him low with a little trick that I had mmm learned in Paris. Who can say that action wasn’t done out of love, especially since in doing his very best to keep me from harm, Onan received for his selflessness the heavy blows that possibly made him the dog he is today. Mmm, and now I am rather tired, and I intend to put out the light.’
    In the gloom Dodger rolled out his mattress; Onan watched him eagerly, in the hope that this might be one of those nights when it was chilly enough for Dodger to want a rather smelly dog sharing the thin mattress with him. His gaze held that unconditional love that only a dog can have – a dog with a soul, surely. But Onan was irredeemably a dog, which made his metaphysics considerably less complicated than those of humans, although sometimes he had a slight crisis in that he did have two gods to worship: the old one who smelled of soap, and the young one who smelled deliciously of just about everything else – at least when he got back from toshing, when to the senses of Onan Dodger was like a rainbow stuffed with kaleidoscopes. Now the hopeful dog riveted Dodger in the somewhat distressing sincerity of his love, and Dodger gave in; he always did.
    The little room was silent and dark, apart from the slight snoring of Solomon, the grey light that managed to filter through the dirty window, and the smell of Onan, which in some peculiar way could almost be heard.
    Outside in the street, one man watched, though he wished there were two men, because one man by himself could so easily be one dead man in the morning, if indeed the dead can find themselves dead, which was one of those philosophical conundrums that Solomon liked.
    Up in the attic Dodger slept, and in his dreams he listened to the planets rolling overhead, interspersed occasionally with visions of the girl with golden hair.
    He got up even earlier than Solomon the next morning; usually, if he had no plans for the day, he would lounge under the blanket until Onan licked his face, and you never wanted that to happen more than once.
    Solomon said nothing, but Dodger noticed his little smile as he made the soup that would do duty for breakfast today. It was true that with Solomon’s magic and his contacts in Covent Garden, he could make mere gruel into a very elegant soup which Dodger believed could hardly be bettered anywhere, even by Marie Jo. And right now, Dodger put down his spoon.
    ‘That was very nice, thank you, Sol, but now I have to go.’
    ‘Mmm, not without shining your boots you are not. You are almost a gentleman now, at least in very poor lighting circumstances, and you are on a mission of mmm great importance, and so you must look your best, especially this afternoon when you go and see Miss Simplicity again. It can be difficult enough as it is to be a member of the chosen people in this city without being accused of sending a lad like you out without appropriate schmutter; people will be going back to throwing stones at the