had captured her imagination. ‘Jesus performs miracles today, in people’s lives,’ he said. ‘Jesus said that if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can move mountains.’
Janet didn’t know how big a mustard seed was, but it didn’t sound very big. And she didn’t want to move mountains either, they suited her just fine where they were. She wanted something much more important.
She shuffled on to her knees in the damp soil and prayed: ‘Please, Jesus, can You fix it so I don’t go to Paget Road School again. Thank You. Amen.’ She wondered if that was easier to arrange than moving mountains about the place. She had no doubt it would be achieved, for her faith would have filled a whole mustard pot, but later she was to marvel and be awed and a little frightened at the power of prayer.
It was a tedious morning for Janet, and her hand and arm continued to throb. She wished she had a book to read, to take her mind off things, but she hadn’t even brought her bag with her. And she realised with horror that she’d left her coat behind. Oh, she’d catch it now.
Sometime that morning she dozed off, sitting up, with her head leaning against a shrubbery bush. She woke stiff, cold and uncomfortable.
It took a minute for her to remember where she was. Then she crawled carefully out and, glancing to right and left, walked to the gates. She saw the children on their way home to dinner and realised she’d probably been woken by the dinner bell. Fortunately, few children from Woodacre Road went to Paget Road School, and none of those who passed spotted Janet hiding in the bushes. As soon as the streets were quieter again, Janet pelted home.
Gran opened the door, and Janet could tell she was cross. For a moment she imagined that Miss Wentworth had been to the house, for Sarah McClusky burst out, ‘What time do you call this, miss?’ Then she exclaimed, ‘Mother of God! Have you seen the state of yourself?’
Janet looked down. One black stocking had a hole in the knee and the other a long tear, and Janet remembered the trailing thorn that she’d caught it on. She saw that the thorn had entered her skin and globules of blood were oozing through the stocking.
‘Look at your dress, child,’ Gran went on, indicating the brown soil staining the checked dress, ‘and what have you done to your hand?’
Fortunately, Janet’s hand was too dirty for Sarah to see exactly what had happened to it. She went on, ‘Your face is all over dirt. Dear God, Janet, as if we haven’t trouble enough.’
‘I’m sorry, Gran, I fell over, I was running,’ Janet gasped out. ‘But what trouble?’
‘Your mother’s on her time,’ Gran said. ‘You’re to go to your Aunt Breda’s. Duncan’s gone already. He’s been home this long time.’
Janet felt faint. The baby wasn’t due yet, not for weeks. Now she understood why her gran had kept her on the doorstep. A shuddering scream came from above.
‘But I want to see Mom,’ Janet cried. She attempted to rush past her gran, but Sarah was too quick.
‘Oh no you don’t, my girl,’ she said.
Another agonising scream rent the air, and Janet almost leapt from her grandmother’s arms.
‘Janet, Janet,’ said her gran pleadingly, ‘you can’t do anything for your mother. Be a good girl and go to Aunt Breda, there’s a love.’
‘She’ll be all right, Gran, won’t she?’ Janet asked.
‘Of course, my dear,’ said Sarah, but she didn’t meet Janet’s eyes. ‘I’ll have to go back upstairs to help. You must go now.’
‘Sarah! Sarah!’ Janet heard the voice of Mrs Williams, the midwife, and knew her gran was needed. She turned away without another word and made her way to her auntie’s.
‘You took your time,’ Aunt Breda said as Janet went in through the kitchen door. Then she turned and caught sight of her niece’s appearance, and said, as her mother had:
‘Mother of God, what happened to you?’
‘I fell over.’
‘Well, get yourself washed and something inside you and you’ll feel better. You’d better strip off those stockings and I’ll try and darn the tears, though it’s your mother who’s the best darner. The teachers were always praising her for her neat stitches. She …’ Breda’s voice trailed away, for her eyes met those of Janet, who suddenly burst into tears.
‘Oh, Auntie Breda, Mom’s bad, isn’t she?’ she gasped.
‘Oh, lovey,’ Breda soothed, gathering Janet in a hug. ‘She’ll be all right.’
Noel and Conner were sitting up to the table attacking their stew with their spoons. They caught the seriousness of the atmosphere and it frightened them. They began to bawl too.
Duncan couldn’t stand it. ‘I’m finished eating,’ he said. ‘Can I go?’
‘Take the two boyos with you,’ Breda said, indicating the twins.
‘Haven’t I to go back to school then?’ Duncan said, surprised.
‘No, I might need you to give a hand,’ Breda said.
‘Well, I still don’t see why I’ve got to take the twins with me,’ Duncan said mulishly.
‘Because I said so,’ Breda snapped, ‘and because they’re only little and they’re frightened and don’t understand anything, and it won’t hurt their big brother to think of someone other than himself for once.’
Duncan felt momentarily ashamed. He was a bit scared too. He knew things weren’t right with his mother having the baby so soon, and he was turned twelve and a half. His brothers were only babies.
‘Stop snivelling,’ he told them sternly. ‘If you do, I’ll take you up the park.’
The two little boys gulped and tried manfully to stem the tide of tears. Breda, still hugging Janet, said, ‘Get a tanner from my purse on the mantelpiece and buy some sweets for you all. The sweet coupons are behind the clock.’
That brought smiles to all their faces. As Janet watched them go down the road she said:
‘He doesn’t care, our Duncan, he doesn’t care.’
‘Of course he cares,’ Aunt Breda said. ‘But he’s a man, or nearly a man. They deal with things like this by going away and pretending it isn’t happening. ’Tisn’t as if they can do anything. They’re best out the way.’
‘Can I … can I stay off school this afternoon too?’ Janet said.
‘Well, I don’t think you’d concentrate much, would you?’ Aunt Breda said with a smile. ‘Anyway, you couldn’t go in that state and I’ll not darn those stockings in five minutes, nor get the stains out of your dress. You’ve not had a bite to eat yet either, and anyway, you’re more use to me here.’
Later, as Janet washed her stinging hands and smarting legs in a bowl of hot water, she prayed silently, Not this way, Jesus, please don’t let anything happen to my mom. I didn’t mean You to do it this way.
Claire
