Читать книгу Helping Hands - S. C. Loader - Страница 7

Chapter 1

With only the birds breaking the early morning silence and lost in his thoughts Paul stood idly staring at the first of the forty-six steps that rose up before him.

‘THAT be a stairway!’ stated a voice suddenly and emphatically over his shoulder. ‘A stairway to ‘eaven that’s what they be, at least for some anyways.’

Still recovering from the missed heartbeat Paul turned to greet the local postmistress, ‘Good morning Nelly, so it’s not a broken escalator then?’

‘And a good morning to you Paul. Surely you ‘ad them in the city didn’t you?’

‘We did Nelly and in every shape and size you could imagine, but none like these.’

‘What’s wrong with them? Perfectly good steps they are! See us in our graves long before they’re worn out they will.’

Paul’s gaze followed the two-metre wide steps all the way to the top. ‘There’s nothing wrong with them Nelly, it’s where they’re asking me to go that makes me feel a little uneasy.’

Nelly’s gaze momentarily joined Paul’s at the top of the flight and the bright cheeriness in her voice suddenly faded. ‘You’ll not find much company up there, most in the village ‘avent got much reason to go up there nowadays.’ Her gaze returned to Paul and drew her curiosity, ‘I must say, you’re looking a little peaky, country life not up to your liking?’

‘It’s absolutely wonderful Nelly, the only drawback I’ve found so far is a postmistress who likes to sneak up and frighten the life out of me when she should be working.’

A smile of feigned innocence crossed her portly face, ‘My work’s done. I only pop in for the sorting office delivery then I’m off ‘ome till the post office opens proper at eight o’clock.’

‘Mentioning which, the sorting office van was late this morning, what happened? An accident?’

‘Na, not this time. The ex-pizza delivery driver that careers around in it upset a couple of cows up at Marsh Farm and they took umbrage at ‘is ‘orn tooting. Blocked the road good and proper they did,’ suddenly the implication of her answer dawned on Nelly and she looked urgently at her watch. ‘Oh my good Lord look at the time! Got to get my old man ‘is breakfast, ‘e’s a right miserable old bugger if ‘e don’t get ‘is eggs and bacon in the morning.’

‘Before you go, Nelly, please could you tell me how my advertisement was answered when it never even appeared in your window?’

With a departing, ‘You’ve got a lot to learn about village life you ‘ave,’ she rushed off.

Paul watched Nelly’s well-rounded figure vanish down an alleyway, then returned his attention to the silently beckoning stairway to heaven.

Paul’s climb came to an abrupt halt upon reaching the forty-fourth step, a small, stockily-built white dog sat barring his way, ‘Hello! Who are you then,’ he asked cheerily, ‘the guard dog?’

The pocket-sized sentry took to its feet and from behind an impressive display of incisors began to issue a low ominous growl.

Paul grinned, ‘That’s a fair imitation.’

When both attempts to circumvent the animal ended with his path being blocked Paul felt it was time to put an end to the impasse. Withdrawing a red ballpoint pen from his pocket he offered the dog a deliberate fleeting glimpse of its clear plastic casing.

‘Say,’ he asked with a hint of mischievousness in his voice, ‘would you like me to show you how a vet takes a dog’s temperature?’

The dog backed away a little and the growling grew distinctly louder.

‘I presume you already know!’

Having had his bluff called Paul was trying to work out his next strategy when a distant voice called out, ‘Cat!’

Suddenly the growling abated as the dog turned and trotted off in the direction of the voice, leaving Paul wondering why any owner should feel the need to warn their pet dog of an approaching cat.

With the puzzle over the dog unresolved and the last two flagstone steps overcome, Paul was finally able to cast an eye over the unassuming, although, picturesque reason for his expenditure of energy. This was not an unfamiliar sight; on the contrary, since moving into the village just over a month ago it was one he had seen countless times daily. His rented flat above the post office stood at the foot of the hill on which it was located and even his bedroom window framed a vista in which it was prominently positioned.

In his walks around the village or those out into the surrounding countryside, this local landmark remained a constant delight to the eye. Even from further afield, on any of the three possible roads into the village, this could be seen long before any part of the red-roofed village itself came into view. That village now nestled at the foot of the hill behind him and for the first time since taking up residence there, he had abandoned the distance, for across the tiny gravel courtyard from where he was standing stood this pretty, visually persistent landmark, the local parish church.

It had become his habit every morning to take a stroll around the village before it awoke, a chance to really appreciate the calming peacefulness of the countryside and the revitalising freshness of its crisp clean air, pleasures rarely found in the city where he had previously lived. As it frequently did, that morning’s stroll took him past the first of the forty-six slightly forward sloping one-metre deep steps that led up to the church. On earlier occasions, despite this being his last remaining unexplored part of the village he had easily resisted the mild urge to placate his curiosity. This morning however it had not been curiosity that had brought him to the top of that long flight of steps, but an irrational and wholly irrepressible desire to go inside the church.

Across the courtyard, the copper-faced outer doors of the church stood wide open like a pair of friendly welcoming arms silently inviting him to come inside, but despite the feeling that had drawn him to them, this was still an invitation Paul felt very uneasy about accepting. His hesitation derived not from a disbelief in God, but in the animosity, his own personal interpretation of God invariably drew from others. Such acrimonious confrontations held no appeal and one of the consequences of trying to avoid antagonising those with different values and beliefs other than his own was to swear he would never again set foot inside a church. This had not been an oath taken without some deep regret, but it had nevertheless, stood unbroken for well over eighteen years.

Voices from the lane below forced him out from under the modern substitute for a traditional lychgate, an unadorned, lacklustre, metre-wide concrete archway. He felt self-conscious enough about his dithering without others witnessing it as well, or even finding amusement in it. The open church doors were only six steps away, he took three towards them then abruptly turned to the right and stopped. Pretending to retie his shoelace not only gave an excuse for his presence should he be seen, but also allowed for a surreptitious glance back down through the archway. Much to his relief the owners of the voices passed by without even a casual look in his direction. While his conscience continued to fight itself over whether or not to enter the church, he cast an eye over this new panorama. To his right, the gravel courtyard was bounded by a narrow, but very neatly kept grass verge, which was in turn bounded by a metre high brick and stone wall. On the other side of the wall, there was a steep drop down into the crescent-shaped village which snuggled tightly up against and around the base of the hillside. To his left stood the uninspiring southern face of the church, excluding the porch which housed the two copper faced doors, there were only four small arch-shaped windows set high up in the wall to offset its blandness. The pale yellow paintwork and the white painted detailing required some touching up here and there, and some of the larger cracks running down the wall looked like they urgently warranted more professional attention.

To avoid the necessity of coming to an immediate decision about entering the church Paul took himself on a tour around the outside instead. At the end of the wall stood an impressively high copper-roofed spire, which again showed the same desire for some professional attention to its masonry. The gravel courtyard opened out on the eastern end into a very large forecourt, this separated the church from a cemetery which occupied the whole of the long gentle downward slope on this side of the hill.

The courtyard narrowed quite considerably once he had passed the two modern additions of a vestry and an annexe at the start of the northern side. The bounding wall also reinstated itself again, having been absent for the length of the cemetery and the entrance to the church forecourt. Here it separated the church from the huge expanse of fields beyond. At the western end, there was a large pair of oak doors that were obviously meant to be the main entrance to the church, although bizarrely the wall separating the church from the fields stood barely one and a half metres away from them. A quick glance over the wall also revealed a two-metre drop on the opposite side, which in Paul’s mind was suggestive of the fact that it was not only modern architects who were capable of making what an acquaintance frequently referred to as a planning cock-up.

The oak doors returned Paul’s thoughts to the reason why he was there. Letting a pair of vacant eyes stare out over the fields basking in the early morning sunshine he questioned the rationality of maintaining an oath taken so many years ago. He was no longer the idealistic student that had made it and the world had become far more tolerant of differing religious beliefs and opinions since then. His own beliefs, if he ever chose to voice them again, would probably not even raise an eyebrow nowadays. So why bother? This thought stayed with him as he resumed his journey and by the time he had sauntered back to the copper faced doors he had come to realise that the only thing preventing him from entering the church was his own pride. The oath he had taken was nothing more than a promise to himself and it was a matter of self-pride that he had never broken a promise to anyone, including those made to himself.

*

As the bells finished sounding out the seventh-hour desire finally overcame pride and Paul slowly pushed open the groaning heavy inner door just enough to peer inside the church. In front of the door, there was a wide entrance aisle that spanned the full width of the church and to the left, there were some pews on either side of a centrally located aisle running towards the back. Unfortunately, this narrow angle provided only a very limited view and the door recess also blocked his view of the altar end of the church. Pushing the groaning door open a little further he leant forward, although this provided a better view towards the back of the church it still did not allow him to see the full width. To the accompaniment of some more loud groaning, the slowly opening door revealed the centrally placed aisle ran through the entrance aisle and continued on towards the altar. Thankfully, like all the others, those pews visible at the alter end were also empty. With bated breath he waited and listened, inside everything was perfectly still and quiet. There was nothing and far more importantly, there was no one to be heard. Another minute of absolute silence passed before he felt confident the church was empty. Desire had made a deal with pride; he would only enter the church if there was no one inside to witness the breaking of his promise. Tentatively stepping over the threshold he closed the door behind himself as quietly as it would allow. Moving forward out of the deep recess the door inhabited, he nervously checked to the left again, all the pews were empty right the way to the back of the church. There was also a large gallery at the far end that played host to the huge church organ, again all the seats were empty. Turning to the altar end he visibly started as his heart missed a beat. Sat in the front right-hand corner were a small group of five people, their bemused faces watching his every move.

Not knowing how to excuse himself Paul blustered out an, ‘Oh! I’m sorry,’ and turned to leave.

A voice from one of their number, soft and friendly in tone beckoned him back, ‘Come on in lad, don’t worry about us… we don’t bite!’

‘He can’t!’ said another. ‘He hasn’t a tooth in his head!’

Some tittering rose from within the group, instantly the sombre atmosphere within the church vanished.

‘Thank you, but I would only be disturbing you.’

A plump elderly lady stood and beckoned him back into the church, ‘Please… we’re only chin-wagging, please come in.’

‘Thank you again, but I’m not really sure I should. This isn’t my church,’ and with a little hesitation, he added apologetically, ‘nor is this my religion and I’m afraid I don’t have a belief in your God either.’

‘It matters not son, everyone’s welcome in this house,’ spoke one of the men in the group. Nodding heads accompanied the loud murmurs of unqualified agreement from the others.

Paul still felt unsure.

The plump old lady spoke again, ‘Everything you seek young man is here in this house. If you leave you may never find them again. Please come and join us. We promise not to bite, leastways four of us do, old Tom here can’t anyways!’

Their open-armed friendliness was enough to persuade Paul to abort his face-saving escape and with a little more cajoling from the group he was soon making his way down the aisle towards them.

In the first row of pews were an elderly man and an elderly woman, they sat askew so as to face the pew behind where another elderly man, an elderly woman and a younger woman all sat.

The man and the woman in the front pew stood as he approached both surprised him with their tallness and their casual, but very stylish dress sense.

The man gave his hand, ‘Hello, I’m Eddy.’

Paul took his hand and introduced himself, ‘I’m Paul, are you sure I’m not disturbing you?’

‘No no, not at all son. Let me introduce the others,’ stepping slightly to one side allowed the woman to step forward. ‘This is my darling wife, Liz. The gentleman without teeth is our neighbour Tom, this is Elsie another of our neighbours and this pretty young lady is Karen.’

Tom and Elsie stretched over the intervening pew to shake hands and after a little prompting from Elsie so did Karen, but she kept her eyes firmly fixed to the floor, an impoliteness that automatically drew Paul’s suspicion.

‘She’s a bit shy is our princess,’ advised Elsie by way of an explanation.

While they all returned to their seats, Paul looked over the group. He would have guessed Eddy to be in his late fifties, although his wife Liz actually looked much older and both Tom and Elsie were in their early to late sixties. Karen was probably somewhere between her late twenties and early thirties, although exactly where was somewhat difficult to tell. Her clothes were either borrowed or a very poor choice for someone with a trim figure, especially at this time of the year. The checked flannel shirt she wore on the outside of her loose-fitting jeans was evidently a man’s shirt, given the position of the buttons and its large size. The thick grey jumper she wore was also more suited to a man and it was far too big for her, as a consequence only her fingertips emerged from the ends of its sleeves.

Paul sat down next to Eddy, ‘Thank you for asking me to join you, but I feel I’m interrupting your meeting.’

Tom laughed heartily, ‘This ain't no meeting lad! It’s a tea break!’

‘The kettle!’ exclaimed Liz loudly as she suddenly stood up. ‘I hope it hasn’t boiled dry! Paul, would you care to join us in a cup?’

Eddy, an elegant looking man with a full head of smartly groomed grey hair, placed a hand on Paul’s shoulder, ‘Think very carefully before you answer son.’ He paused for a deliberate overly theatrical check for potential eavesdroppers, then in a loud whisper added, ‘This is the real thing son, it’s not like that cheap stuff they serve in the café down the road. This’ll put hairs on your chest!’

‘I hope not!’ declared Elsie indignantly.

Paul grinned, then acknowledged he would risk a cup and thanked Liz for the kind invitation.

In the few minutes of idle chat before Liz returned with a tray bearing six cups of hot freshly brewed tea, Paul had discovered Tom actually did have some teeth. In fact, he had a full set, although only ten of them resided in his mouth, the rest were kept in a plastic bag in his jacket pocket. ‘Damned uncomfortable lad!’ was Tom’s explanation, but it was enough for Paul to appreciate such eccentricity.

The level shelf at the back of the pew, designed to hold prayer and hymnbooks, became Liz’s temporary tabletop as she handed out the refreshments. The men received their tea in mugs, the women had theirs in bone china teacups with matching saucers. The mismatched milk jug and sugar bowl gave evidence to the limited availability of crockery.

Paul’s quizzical look at his mug caught Liz’s eye.

‘Oh, I’m sorry Paul. Would you have preferred a teacup?’ she asked.

‘No, a mug’s fine thank you. It’s the decoration I find a little…’

‘’Ey!’ interrupted Tom in a very loud indignant tone. ‘You gave ’im the blond! That’s mine, that is!’

Blushing slightly, Liz exchanged Tom and Paul’s mugs, ‘I’m sorry! He gets cranky unless he gets the blond, do you mind the brunette?’

‘No, not at all,’ and to try and alleviate some of Liz’s obvious embarrassment added, ‘I prefer brunettes, they’re far prettier.’ An opinion Paul suddenly wished he had kept that to himself as four old faces momentarily turned towards Karen. Unable to hide her dark brown hair from sight, she chose to hide her blushes behind her hands instead. No one gave an explanation for this strange behaviour, but Karen’s wedding ring negated Paul’s initial thought that they were matchmaking. Although if they were, then they obviously had a far different interpretation of prettiness than he had.

Some unheard, but presumably comforting words from Elsie slowly drew Karen’s face back out from behind its veil. This was, apart from a fleeting glimpse before they shook hands, the first time Paul had seen her face properly since his arrival. Her repentant head had kept the majority of her facial features hidden from view, but now he caught sight of her beautifully shaped and appealingly dark eyes. Their dullness however and the dark shadows beneath them were anything but appealing, they gave the impression that she had not slept in weeks, although the state of her clothing testified to the contrary. To Paul’s mind, given her drawn look, her long lank un-brushed brown hair, un-plucked eyebrows, badly bitten fingernails and the absence of any make-up, gave this young woman an air of someone who had either given up caring about her appearance or worse, about herself.

‘I love redheads,’ announced Eddy brightly, ‘that’s why I married one!’

Liz elegantly plumped up the base of her hair, ‘Even though there’s more grey than red nowadays?’

Eddy leant towards her a planted a kiss on her lips, ‘I would love you just as much, my dear, even if you were bald!’

Liz’s expression showed the horror at such an eventuality.

‘Na! Give me a blond any day!’ said Tom nudging the blond-haired Elsie with his elbow. ‘Especially if she’s got some meat on ’er! Can’t do with these skinny girls what one can do with…’

‘Tom!’ interrupted Elsie with a reprimand. ‘I don’t think these young people want to know!’

Tom placed his hand on Elsie’s knee and winked at her, ‘We could always give them a demonstration girl!’

Elsie lightly slapped the back of his bald head, ‘You’re a dirty old man, now behave yourself! And take your hand off my knee!’

Tom meekly complied, only to have his hand surreptitiously returned by Elsie when she thought no one was looking.

Paul added some sugar and milk to his brunette mug, once again his puzzled look caught Liz’s eye, ‘Is there something wrong?’ she asked.

‘If these mugs belong to the church, then why are they adorned with pictures of naked women?’

‘Beats the ’ell out of a crucifix don’t it lad?’ grinned Tom, a comment that earned him another pump hand across the back of his head.

‘What difference does it make?’ asked a bemused Liz.

‘Well it seems a little irreverent,’ replied Paul, ‘and should we really be sitting here like this?’

‘Like what?’ asked Eddy looking around to see if he had missed something of importance.

‘Well… drinking tea in a church, it doesn’t seem quite right somehow.’

‘I know exactly what you mean son,’ confided Eddy in a whisper, ‘unfortunately we couldn’t locate the key to the wine cupboard!’

Liz nudged him disapprovingly.

Elsie leant forward smiling broadly, ‘Young man, this is a house and in every house, people drink coffee or tea…’

‘Or something far stronger!’ interrupted Liz, eyeing Eddy disapprovingly.

‘Just because this is a house of God, doesn’t mean we can’t drink a cup of tea when we fancy one.’ Then catching sight of Tom’s mischievous grin she added, ‘Although while we’re here some dirty old men do have to go without what they fancy!’

‘But what would the priest say if he walked in on us? I’m sure he wouldn’t approve of us using his church like this.’

Four faces lost their joviality momentarily.

‘Sadly, he’s very unlikely to walk in us,’ advised Liz.

‘Why not?’

‘He has a small problem that’s causing him some difficulties.’

‘What small problem?’

‘He’s begun to question his faith in God, son,’ advised Eddy sombrely, then with a discreet nod towards Karen added, ‘and he’s not the only one.’

Tom slapped Paul heartily across the back of the shoulders, ‘But not to worry about it lad! ’Elp is now on its way, that’s why we’ve been asked to come ’ere, to keep the place up and running till it arrives!’

‘That’s right!’ added Elsie cheerily. ‘Can’t have the old place going to rack and ruin just because he hasn’t got the wherewithal to get himself another cleaner while the regular one is poorly, now can we?’

‘We’ll have this place sparkling like new pin by the time we’re finished,’ stated Liz, then as she lovingly kissed Eddy’s cheek added, ‘won’t we, my dear?’

He returned the kiss, ‘Too right we will! Once we’re done they’ll need a magnifying glass to find any dust in this place!’

Tom withdrew a paintbrush from under his jacket, ‘Not only will it sparkle lad, but the paintwork will dazzle them!’

‘What’s that doing in there?’ asked a shocked Elsie. ‘Funny place to keep it if you ask me!’

‘Like to keep all of me tools ’andy girl,’ explained Tom. Then with a suggestive wink added, ‘Never know when I might be needing one of them!’

A plump hand caught him across the back of the head once again, ‘Well that’s one tool you won’t be needing!’

‘I think you’ll be needing something a little larger,’ remarked Paul after glancing up into the heady heights of the church ceiling.

'Aint the size that matters lad, it’s what you do with it that counts! Ask any woman, she’ll tell you the same!’

Elsie’s hand caught him across the back of the head again, ‘The young man’s referring to your paintbrush!’

‘Ow! Keep that up girl and me ’ead’ll fall off!’

Paul noted with inner amusement that despite Elsie’s verbal and physical chastisement of Tom, his hand had not only been permitted to stay on her knee, but the plump hand of retribution also returned to discreetly caress it after its work had been done each time.

**

Paul glanced at his watch.

‘Do you have time to join us in another cup?’ enquired Liz as she collected up the crockery. ‘We always like to have a second, sets us up for the day.’

‘I do and I would be pleased to join you in another cup if it’s no trouble.’

‘When do you start work then, son?’ enquired Eddy.

Liz nudged him, ‘Leave the young man alone!’ Then looking towards Paul added, ‘When I married him I was under the impression that men with big noses had big… well you know… tools!’ Eddy’s chest swelled with pride, ‘but it’s not true, they’re just very nosey!’

Eddy’s chest fell despondently, ‘I’m not nosey! Not in the slightest!’

Grinning, Liz wandered off with the tray and once she was out of sight Eddy eagerly turned back to Paul.

‘So what time do you start work then son?’

‘I’m not working at the moment, although hopefully by the end of summer I’ll have something sorted out, but it’s going to take a great deal of preparation before that can happen.’

‘Interesting!’ he replied. Turning to Elsie he repeated part of Paul’s answer, ‘The end of summer.’

23Elsie smiled broadly, ‘Lucky young man!’

‘What’s with the time then lad?’ asked Tom. ‘I see you look at it often enough, got a girl waiting, have you? ’Ope it ain't one of those skinny things, can’t abide them meself, can’t get a good grip on those!’

‘Tom!’ came another of Elsie’s reprimands.

‘No, there’s no girl, but there is a woman I’m due to meet at eight-thirty.’

‘’Ope she’s got some meat on her lad, need something good and solid underneath when you’re…’

The plump hand of retribution abruptly curtailed his explanation.

‘Unfortunately, it’s not that type of woman Tom. I’m looking for someone to do my laundry and this woman has answered my advertisement.’

‘What’s wrong with the Missis then lad?’

‘I’m not married Tom.’

‘Then get your girl to do it! Get her trained up, lad! No point in ’aving a dog and barking yourself is there?’

‘I don’t have a girl either Tom, I live alone.’

Liz returned as Elsie continued their investigation, ‘What do you want to live alone for?’

‘I’d rather not, I just haven’t found the right girl that’s all.’ Then after a few moments of quiet reflection, he added resignedly, ‘Actually, that’s not entirely true. There were a couple, unfortunately, I just happened to choose two who considered their careers to be of greater importance than marriage, but that’s not uncommon in the city.’

Liz placed Paul’s mug on the makeshift tabletop, ‘Well you’re out in the country now young man, once they find out you’re single here, they’ll be queuing up at your door to marry you!’

‘Thank you, Liz, but I don’t think so. I’m forty-one and I think that makes me just a little too old to appeal to those seeking husbands, don’t you?’

Liz turned to Elsie, ‘Perfect age I would say, what do you think Elsie?’

Elsie smiled broadly, ‘I say he’s going to be a very lucky young man! That’s what I say!’

Liz returned the smile, ‘I think so too!’

During a conversation that followed between the four elder members of the group and unhindered by their inquisitiveness, Paul took the opportunity to pass a furtive eye over Karen. Apart from a barely audible “please” when she was asked if she wanted another cup of tea and another barely audible “thank you" when she received it, she had remained silent the whole time. Until she had picked up her cup, her head had remained almost constantly bowed and her eyes fixed on two thumbs nervously wrestling one another in her lap, but now with a hot cup of tea held between her hands, her head once again regained an upright posture. In profile at least, her face held the prospect of prettiness, but whether the emotion or the illness that controlled her would ever allow it to show itself was another question.

Her membership of the group was also rather odd; her reticence in speaking was in total contrast to the others, as was her whole demeanour. She was also a lot younger and given her poor dress sense she obviously came from a different social background than the four smartly attired senior members of the group. Yet, Elsie’s arm lay around her shoulders offering comfort and support and Liz, despite creating a large gap between herself and her husband, had made a point of sitting in front of Karen ensuring she felt included within the group. Not only that but like Elsie, she also frequently and reassuringly stroked the sides of Karen’s face with the tips of her fingers and occasionally gently returned stray strands of hair back behind her ears. Even when Eddy had introduced her, his “this pretty young lady” carried a very distinct note of pride, but subsequently, there had been no hint or clues neither from him nor any of the others to explain their deep attachment to this shadow of a woman. Unexpectedly the church bells began to chime out the eighth hour and brought Paul’s thoughts about Karen to a conclusion, as well as his participation in their extended tea break.

‘I’m really sorry,’ he said taking to his feet, ‘I’ll have to leave you now, I have an appointment.’

Walking around to Liz he shook her hand and thanked her for the tea, then he shook Eddy’s hand, then Elsie’s, Tom’s and finally, despite some reluctance on her part, Karen’s.

‘Thank you for your hospitality, it was a real pleasure to have met you all.’

Eddy stood, ‘You’re welcome to come and join us anytime son, we’ll be here every Monday and Friday morning if the fancy takes you!’

‘If it’s no trouble, it would be my pleasure to take you up on that offer.’

Tom stood, ‘The brunettes yours whenever you want ’er lad!’

Karen obviously didn’t understand Tom’s comment and tried to hide herself behind the plump figure of a broadly grinning Elsie.

‘Thank you, Tom, you can’t beat a good brunette!’

‘Oh yes, you can lad!’

Paul nodded a final farewell as he made his way to the church doors, as he reached them Elsie came hurriedly up behind him.

‘Young man,’ she said a little breathlessly, ‘we cannot be here as often as we would like, but Karen is here early most days and I’m sure she would appreciate your company if you would care to join her.’

‘I’m not so sure she would Elsie.’

‘Even if she’s a little shy of saying so, I’m sure she would.’

‘Okay, I promise to see what I can do.’

‘Thank you, it would mean a great deal to all of us if you could.’

Paul smiled and turned to leave.

‘Paul!’ called Elsie behind him.

‘Yes.’

‘Please be gentle with her, she is in a great deal of pain,’ she laid a hand over his heart, ‘and it’s a pain that comes from here.’

‘I’ll bear that in mind.’