Ledger Current, Gods Unsigned

Every god retires eventually. 

Somebody has to do the paperwork.

At ten past two in the morning, the Archangel Gabriel rings Martin Quinn with tidings. Not of great joy. Wrong card.

Edmund Leaver, senior manager at Finch, Finch and Prendergast, has died at a retirement-planning seminar. That leaves Martin, the firm’s most forgettable solicitor, in charge of its most unusual clients: the gods. All of them. And they are not retiring well.

Odin is fixing the neighbours’ gutters with lightning. Janus has been trying to cross the High Street for eleven days. The Archangel Michael has a bedsit, a sword that now qualifies as a standard lamp, and a pond he doesn’t understand. Lucifer has taken up gardening. Father Christmas is going under. And somebody has to decide who owns a child’s tricycle addressed to Satan.

Meanwhile the office has started calling Martin Mr Prendergast, there’s a drawer in Edmund’s desk that won’t open, and the index card with Martin’s name on it says only one word.

Ask.

Nobody ever has.

Funny, warm and quietly devastating, Ledger Current, Gods Unsigned is a comic novel about work, retirement, and all the things we mean to get round to next year.