Starting Over by Jack Sheffield

Starting Over by Jack Sheffield

Author:Jack Sheffield
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Transworld
Published: 2018-07-26T00:00:00+00:00


Chapter Eleven

Do Angels Have Wings?

It was early March and a thin light bathed the waking land. The season was changing and a pallid sun appeared fleetingly beyond the rags of clouds that raced across a pale-blue sky. Vera looked out of the vicarage window and smiled as she recognized the signs. It was a sight to lift the spirits and gave hope of warmer days to come. The earth had shifted and hopes of spring were replacing the bitter winter months. The sprouting leaves of hawthorn had brought new life to the hedgerows and the spears of daffodils thrust their blue-green shoots above the grass. The last of the snow had gone and snowdrops, shivering with balletic tension, were like pearls in the pale sunshine. Aconites and crocuses provided a splash of colour and the sticky buds on the horse chestnut trees were cracking open.

Vera sighed as she thought ahead to a busy day. She had been brought up to have a strong sense of noblesse oblige and firmly believed that a person of social rank should be generous to those less fortunate. So it was that she was destined to experience a day of problem-solving – and that included her brother. He was due to take both classes today for Bible stories. Joseph was always comfortable in his pulpit with a congregation of adults. Sadly, where children were concerned he didn’t have a clue. Vera knew she loved her brother – he was a kind and gentle man. However, although the Bible had taught her that love was constant, she wondered if this included Wednesdays.

Close to the blacksmith’s forge in Ragley village was Badger’s Row, a collection of thatched cottages. The one at the far end of the row was no longer weatherproof. The thatch had sagged in places and, whenever the rain was more than a light drizzle, buckets had to be placed around the kitchen floor.

It was here that six-year-old Rosie Finn was filling a heavy kettle from the pump above the kitchen sink. She was cold and had shivered during the night in spite of the old army blanket that had provided a little extra warmth over the winter months.

Mary Finn, a single mother, was frying a thick slice of bread in dripping for Rosie’s breakfast. ‘’Ere y’are, luv,’ she said. ‘Eat this an’ be a good girl.’

Rosie took the bread eagerly as she stared at the calendar on the wall. Each month there was a new picture with a Bible quotation underneath. This month it was a picture of a smiling Jesus with long fair hair, a neatly trimmed beard and surrounded by children. In the sky above his head two winged angels looked down, while the text read ‘Suffer little children to come unto me.’

Rosie chewed her bread and dripping and wondered why children had to suffer.

In Laurel Cottage Florence was watching Freddie dip his toast soldiers into the runny yolk of a boiled egg before she took him off to school. The radio was on and Guy Mitchell was singing ‘She Wears Red Feathers’.



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