I crossed over to the other side of the road. I wanted to go to Boots, but I was too embarrassed to walk past the man sitting in that doorway with a thin blanket over his shoulders. The other day he was asking for money. Shoppers passed by saying they did not have any cash on them, probably true, but a good excuse these days. I do carry money; I’m always smug when the computers have gone down and they’re only taking cash. Then there is the craft fair and Sam my Big Issue man… No, I wasn’t going to feel guilty, I always buy a Big Issue and we gave some money to Crisis at Christmas, they held out a life line for Barry’s brother Dean, though he didn’t take it. That’s why Barry always says ‘Don’t give them any money, they could help themselves if they wanted to, look at our Dean, brought everything  on himself. How many times did we bail him out?’

Only once as far as I remember, but I just let him witter on. Still, he’s right it’s better to give to the people who can help properly. But I still feel guilty when I see huddled figures.

The next day I had a good excuse for staying on the other side of the road. I had a big parcel to take to the post office for my sister’s birthday. As I shouldered my way through the post office door I heard a voice. It was him again, leaning against the lamppost, holding out an empty takeaway cup hopefully. I had my hands full, my purse was tucked away in my back pack. I mumbled ‘seeifgotanchnagewayout.’

For what the parcel cost to send I could have bought him a meal at Wetherspoons up the road. I had put some change in my pocket, but I knew we were also supposed to make homeless people feel human, not ignored, what on earth could I say? I edged out of the door shielding beside a fat man, aiming to go in the opposite direction from the pitiful man. But I heard him speak. I looked around hoping he was talking to someone else, like a Salvation Army person or a homeless mate. But any other shoppers had melted away. It was just me and him. Him staring at me with strangely deep eyes. Why couldn’t he go and sell the Big Issue, or go and get help, the help the council proclaimed was available.

‘Why do you ignore me?’

‘Er um, I don’t… I don’t know.’

‘Why don’t you listen to me.’

My mouth was dry, I undid my scarf, took my hat off, felt my face flushing.

Why did he have to pick on me?

‘Er how are you getting on?’

‘Not bad considering, my family were awful this time, not like last time. My first parents were kind and loving, I had fun with my younger brothers and sisters… ‘

‘Did you get adopted?’

He did not seem to hear my question.

‘We decided, the three of us, that I should be brought up in a dreadful family, family is hardly a word you would apply to the dysfunctional adults I was with. Anyway, it was decided I should have all the disadvantages so I/We would really know what it is like to be a human.’

I felt tingles down my spine. ‘Oh my God, are you an alien?’

‘No, the first name you said, taken in vain like most people do.’

Of course he was obviously on something, I should just walk away, if Barry could see me now he would think me so stupid for even thinking…

I walked briskly down the road, into Sainsburys with normality around me. But I thought of those penetrating eyes and what he had said. There came to me some vague memory of Sunday school stories when Mum was in her Christian phase. Jesus coming again, how would he appear, would anyone believe him. What were those discussions we had that time I went on a teen camp. I thought it was for camping fun and trampolining, but turned out they wanted to convert us. My parents had not realised it was a strange sect.

‘Will you turn your back on Him when he comes again?’ they asked us.

 At night in our six person tents, my friend Julie had us all giggling, making fun of them, bringing us back to normal.

But what if it was true, was I as bad as Peter or even Judas?

I did not tell Barry all this, he would just laugh. But I had a plan. What could be the harm in talking to Him, call him out, see if he was just mad. Before I got on the bus for work, I would see if he was there.

He was not in any doorways, but as it started raining and I dashed to the bus shelter, he was there. Upright, in normal clothes.

‘Hello Sandra.’

‘How do you know my name?’ I stuttered.

‘The advantage of being Omniscient.’

‘Don’t you mean Omnipotent?’ I decided to play him at his own mind games.

‘That as well.’

‘Look, the bus is going to come along at any moment.’

‘I know.’

‘I have to go to work, so can you just tell me, are you actually saying that you are God.’

‘If that is what you call me in Surbiton, yes.’

‘As in have you come down to Earth again, after all this time?’

‘It doesn’t seem that long, but yes.’

His eyes looked so kind and gentle, not scary, I decided to be bold.

‘So why not come back as a woman this time?’

‘Because women still aren’t listened to? Does Bary listen to you?’

This had to be some kind of trick, someone who knew me and Barry…

I trembled. ‘Look, I don’t think you should be hard on us, all of us. How are we supposed to know the truth about the universe and everything, the scientists keep telling us different things.’

‘You are not supposed to know. How could you possibly understand?’

‘Oh that’s a relief in a way. Do you know how big the universe is, or how many there are … and do you know what is going on out there in infinity?’

‘Of course, the advantage of being omnipresent.’

At that moment my bus came along and I stepped on board, turning to wave goodbye, but he was gone. I went up on the top deck, sat at the back to think. Looked out of the window to try and spot him, but the rain had got too heavy to see properly.

Was he mad or was I. But could it be true, was He true. If He was, would anyone believe me? Probably a whole host of nutters, as Barry would say.