so often to try and change the men in their ways and convert them to Christianity.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with Christianity, Poppy,’ Robert said, turning to look at her. ‘And in times of grief such as yours, I believe it can be a great comfort.’
‘Honest?’ She regarded him earnestly. ‘How?’
‘Well, I’m not particularly religious myself. I’ve had religion forced down my throat far too long for it to have any appeal now. But I do believe it helps to pray sometimes.’
‘I don’t know how to pray. I wouldn’t know what to say. I don’t reckon there’s much to all that claptrap anyhow.’
‘Well, you could try it. Why not give it a try and reserve judgement until you have.’
‘Would you teach me how to pray, Robert?’
‘I’m not qualified, Poppy. I’m not a priest.’
‘But you can give me an idea what to do and what to say. If you go to church regular, you must have an idea.’
It was a God-given opportunity to see her again. Of course he must grasp it. He was emotionally torn, of course he was, but he could not just dismiss this delightful waif, who looked up to him for help and guidance with those exquisite blue eyes. As well as being drawn to her irrevocably, he felt obliged to help her, obliged to guide her. Continuing to plague himself in the doing might well end in disaster, but it was a course he had no choice but to pursue. There was something about this girl that he could not abandon. She had got under his skin and was proving impossible to remove.
‘Then why don’t you meet me tomorrow at the church and we’ll go inside and I’ll try and teach you,’ he suggested.
‘But tomorrow’s Saturday. Not Sunday?’
‘You don’t want to go when all the regular churchgoers are about, do you?’
‘No, I s’pose not,’ she answered with a shrug.
‘Tomorrow then. One o’clock outside St Thomas’s.’
‘The one with the spire?’
‘Yes, the one with the spire, at the top of the hill there.’ He stopped walking. ‘Are you feeling better now, Poppy?’
‘A bit, thank you.’
‘Good. Maybe we should head back now.’
She nodded her agreement and looked at him longingly. ‘And thank you again for your note, Robert. It was a lovely thought.’
‘I’m just happy you were able to read it.’
She smiled self-consciously. ‘Oh, every word.’
‘That shows how well and how easily you learned.’
Poppy blushed at his compliment that meant so much to her. ‘I liked learning to read and write. But I still have such a lot more to learn, don’t I?’
‘If you really wanted to, perhaps we could resume your lessons.’
‘Oh, I’d really like to, Robert … as long as you … if you don’t mind, I mean … If I wouldn’t be taking up too much of your time.’
‘I’ve rather missed teaching you, Poppy,’ he said candidly and smiled. ‘You’re a model pupil, you know. Not that I’m any great shakes as a teacher …’
‘Oh, I think you’re a good teacher, Robert. I wouldn’t have anybody else teach me.’
He smiled again and looked into her eyes. ‘You seem much brighter now. I told you it helps to get things off your chest by sharing your problems. Do you still want to meet me tomorrow?’
‘Oh, yes,’ she reassured him, not about to let such an opportunity pass. ‘I ain’t never been in a church before.’
‘Never? Well, I hope you don’t grow too fond of it. I’d hate it to change you. I like you fine the way you are.’
The silence inside St Thomas’s church overwhelmed Poppy. The clack of her clogs on the hard tiled floor rang off the walls and around the huge stone pillars that supported the gallery and the high, vaulted roof as she followed Robert up the centre aisle and into a front pew facing the choir stalls. She sat down beside him and looked in wonder at the painting on glass that filled the east window above the altar.
‘What’s that picture?’ she asked in a whisper, for to speak in her normal voice would be an unwarranted intrusion on the church’s cool tranquillity. ‘It’s beautiful.’
‘The Ascension,’ Robert answered. ‘Christ risen.’
‘Oh,’ she said and nodded.
Robert had picked up a copy of the Book of Common Prayer from the rear of the church as they entered. He opened it up and handed it to her with an affectionate smile.
‘See if you can make sense of this, Poppy.’ He pointed to a block of text that looked inordinately daunting to her eyes. ‘Read it out to me.’
She studied the text for a few seconds, then, garnering her confidence to try, she began reading very slowly, building up the words as best she could, ‘Our Father … which – art – in – heeven …’
‘Heaven,’ Robert corrected.
‘Oh. Heaven … But I thought an e and an a together said ee, like in bean.’
‘Not always, Poppy. There’s no rule.’
She tutted diffidently. ‘So what’s that next word?’
‘Hallowed.’
‘What’s it mean?’
‘Revered … Respected … Admired.’
‘Oh … Hallowed – be – thy – name – Thy k – kin – king – dom – come – Thy – will – be – done – on … What’s that word, Robert? It’s a hard one.’
‘Earth,’ he said, with unending patience.
She looked at him intensely and nodded, then returned to the book. She read it through to the end, taking her time, meticulously trying to construct the words from the letters and combinations she had already learnt.
‘What’s this word, Robert?’
‘Amen. It means “so be it”.’
‘Then why don’t it just say “so be it”, instead of “Amen”?’
‘Because it’s either a Latin or Greek or Hebrew word that means so be it. When you say a prayer you generally
