their mortality, the reasoning went. This was the best possible time to remind them that Jesus offered the one direct route to the kingdom of heaven. The notion of offering his witness to strangers would have had him rolling on the floor with laughter a few weeks previously, but now it seemed the most natural thing in the world.
They gathered in the home of their pastor, an eager young Welshman whose enthusiasm was almost pathological. Even in the first flush of his conversion, Weird found him slightly overwhelming. Lloyd genuinely believed that the only reason the whole of St. Andrews hadn't accepted Christ into their lives was the inadequacy of the proselytizing of himself and his flock. Clearly, Weird thought, he'd never met Ziggy, the atheist's atheist. Nearly every meal he'd eaten in Fife Park since they'd returned had included passionate discussion about faith and religion. Weird was weary of it. He didn't know enough yet to counter all the arguments, and he knew instinctively it wasn't enough to respond with, "That's where your faith comes in." Bible study would solve that in time, he knew. Till then, he was praying for patience and the right lines.
Lloyd thrust leaflets into his hand. "These give a brief introduction to the Lord, along with a short selection of passages from the Bible," he explained. "Try to engage people in conversation, then ask them if they'd give five minutes of their time to save themselves from disaster. That's when you give them this and ask them to read it. Tell them if they want to ask you any questions about it, they can meet you at the service on Sunday." Lloyd spread his hands as if to indicate that was all there was to it.
"Right," Weird said. He looked around at their little group. There were half a dozen of them. Apart from Lloyd, there was only one other man. He carried a guitar and wore an expression of eagerness. Sadly, his zeal wasn't matched by his talent. Weird knew he wasn't supposed to judge, but he reckoned that, even on his worst day, he could play this geek under the table. But he didn't know the songs yet, so he wasn't going to be busking for Christ tonight.
"We'll set up the music on North Street. There's plenty of people around there. The rest of you, go round the pubs. You don't have to go in. Just catch people as they're entering or leaving. Now, we'll just have a quick prayer before we go about the Lord's business." They held hands and bowed their heads. Weird felt the newly familiar sense of peace wash over him as he entrusted himself to his savior.
It was funny how different things were now, he thought later as he ambled along from one pub to the next. In the past, he'd never have considered approaching complete strangers for anything other than directions. But he was actually enjoying himself. Most people brushed him off, but several had accepted his leaflets and he was confident that he'd see some of them again. He was convinced they couldn't miss the tranquillity and joy that must be emanating from him.
It was nearly ten o'clock when he walked through the massive stone archway of the West Port toward the Lammas Bar. It shocked him now to think of how much time he'd wasted in there over the years. He wasn't ashamed of his past; Lloyd had taught him that that was the wrong way to look at it. His past was a comparison point that revealed just how glorious his new life was. But he regretted that he hadn't found this peace and sanctuary sooner.
He crossed the road and stationed himself by the door of the Lammas. In the first ten minutes, he handed out a single tract to one of the regulars who gave him a curious stare as he pushed the door open. Seconds later, the door swung back violently. Brian and Colin Duff hurtled into the street, followed by a couple of other young men. They were all red in the face and fueled by drink.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Brian roared, grabbing Weird by the front of his parka. He pushed him back against the wall hard.
"I just?
"Shut your puss, you wee shite," Colin shouted. "We buried my sister today, thanks to you and your vicious wee pals. And you've got the nerve to turn up here preaching about Jesus?"
"Call yourself a fucking Christian? You