Variations

by Claire Lorrimer

Genres: Sagas; Short Stories; Romance

Synopsis

A compelling collection of 15 short stories from the bestselling Claire Lorrimer, perfect for bedtime reading or a quick read on the go. The stories are: The Snake Belt One in Three The White Doves The Angel and the Witch or Miss Tansley's Easter Play Trust Me Once a Year Goat's Loose The Patient in Number Twenty-two Comfort and Joy Two Sides to a Coin Old Toys Wanted A True Story Poor Little Rich Girl Progress The Garden

Release date: January 30, 2014

Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton

Print pages: 400

Sample

 

 

IT all began that February of 1930 when Letty was six.

“Miracles are always possible provided you have sufficient Faith!”

The latent excitement in Sister Bernadette’s voice as she made this pronouncement woke Letty from a pleasant day-dream involving a tree-climbing adventure with her cousin, Christopher.

After two terms at the Convent of the Sacred Heart, Letty knew about Faith. It was believing in God, which she certainly did, although she was still confused about there being three of Him — Father, Son and Holy Ghost. She didn’t like ghosts and preferred not to think about getting confirmed when she was older because, if you hadn’t seen the Holy Ghost before, you were bound to have it descend on you at the ceremony. Nor was she sure if she liked God who, so Sister Bernadette often warned her class of six year olds, had an All-Seeing Eye; which meant that even if no one else saw you stick out your tongue at another girl or laugh when one of the nuns tripped over her habit, God would see and in due course, mete out a suitable punishment. Nor was she all that happy about God the Son: poor Jesus, whose body hung on innumerable crosses in church and in the convent passages, horrible drops of blood pouring from his head and hands and dripping down his body. Sister Bernadette said he died on the cross to save people but he looked to Letty as if he needed saving himself.

“Please, Sister, what’s a miracle?” she asked.

“Quite simply, Letitia, it is a superhuman event; which is to say that ordinary mortals like ourselves cannot achieve the impossible. God, however, can do anything and everything if He thinks fit, and we need only have sufficient Faith in His power and pray and He will perform miracles for us.”

Letty’s face turned pink with excitement. She had almost — well nearly almost — given up hope of getting the snake belt. Christopher had one threaded through the loops of his shorts. Sometimes, if she gave him a toffee or let him borrow her Sorbo ball, he would allow her to wear it but never for long because without it, his shorts fell down. Letty had begged and begged Mummy to buy her one, or to allow her to save up her pocket money and buy one for herself. Every time she brought up the subject, Mummy explained that girls wore dresses and snake belts were for boys’ trousers and would look very silly on a dress. Letty had asked Father Christmas to bring her one but he never did. “It’ll be a miracle if you ever get one!” said Mrs Banbury, the daily. “So if I was you, I’d forget the dratted thing!”

Now, according to Sister Bernadette, she had only to pray, with sufficient Faith of course, and she would have a snake belt. Would God send it by the postman? Or would it come in her Christmas stocking? Or would God just deposit it on the end of her bed whilst she was asleep? Maybe her Guardian Angel would bring it. Maybe …

“Letitia, you are not paying attention again …”

“Oh, I am, truly I am, Sister!” Letty gasped.

“Then kindly repeat the story of the loaves and …”

The bell rang for the end of the lesson and as she left the classroom, Letty decided that the All-Seeing God knew she had been concentrating on Him and shown his goodwill by getting the bell rung early and saving her from yet another detention. A little miracle — but a miracle nonetheless.

Letty prayed. Silently, fervently, continuously she prayed; throughout meals, throughout lessons, throughout netball, before she went to sleep and when she woke up. Most of all she prayed in the big candlelit church, forcing herself to look at the poor, bleeding Son of God instead of at the gentle, smiling statue of his mother, Mary, in her pretty blue mantle, where Letty usually fastened her gaze.

For two whole weeks, Letty prayed. She described the snake belt in great detail to God — the stretchy elastic it was made of, its stripy green, brown and grey colours, the two shiny snake heads which linked around each other so cleverly. She explained that the colours weren’t so important and it didn’t have to be exactly the same belt as Christopher’s and would God be kind enough to leave a note for Mummy saying it was all right for her to wear the belt even though she was a girl.

Either God wasn’t listening, Letty decided, or, more probably, He simply couldn’t hear her. She decided to get up in the night and pray when the dormitory was quiet and everyone was asleep.

Letty, too, was asleep when Sister Bernadette found her still kneeling by her bed. Only partially coherent between her sobs once woken, Letty failed to make the elderly nun understand the importance of the snake belt or, indeed, what it was.

“Our Good Lord would not want you to miss your sleep, child.” Sister said, adding comfortingly, “You must never lose your faith, Letitia. In His own good time, God will answer your prayers. Faith, you know, can move mountains!”

Letty didn’t want to move mountains but in the morning, she woke up with an idea. Maybe the gift of a snake belt wasn’t important enough, big enough, for God to be bothered about it. If he liked moving mountains then perhaps he wanted something more spectacular for His miracle; something like changing her from a girl into a boy who could wear a snake belt. Daddy had said it couldn’t be done; that she’d just have to accept the fact that he had wanted a little girl and he loved her as she was.

Such was Letty’s faith that she knew God could do the impossible.

“God does not always answer our prayers, Letitia,” Sister Bernadette said when three weeks later, Letty could see no sign that she had been changed into a boy and hope, along with Faith, was draining away. “God created you a little girl because that is what He chose for you to be. He has His own purpose. At one time in my childhood, I, too, wished I had been born a boy but when I grew up, I realized God’s purpose — I was to become a nun and dedicate my life to Him. Perhaps this is His intention for you, child.”

“But how will I know?” Letty asked, comforted and even a little excited to think that God had singled her out for special honours; despite the fact that she was frequently naughty and always in trouble for day-dreaming. She told fibs, too, although not always on purpose. Sometimes she just became confused between the stories she made up in her head and real things.

“God will call you in His own good time!” Sister Bernadette said. “You will hear His voice.”

Her problem, Letty decided, had done an abrupt turnabout. It was no longer a matter of God hearing her but of her hearing God. She endeavoured to sit in class beside a window because she would be nearer the sky. When she went to the lavatory, she stood by the skylight listening, because it was the only place in the school where it was quiet. She stopped talking to her friends and, once she was home for the holidays, she barely spoke to her parents.

“Is the child ill?” Daddy asked, looking worried. “She usually talks the hind leg off a donkey!”

“Is something worrying you, Letty?” Mummy asked.

“I’m only listening,” Letty said vaguely. “I just wish people wouldn’t make such a noise.”

Mummy took her to the doctor who said she was a little tense but he could find nothing wrong with her.

“Listening for what?” Christopher asked when he came to stay for a week. He was a year older than Letty and she adored him. He enjoyed her adoration and her willingness to join in any game of his choosing. Letty told him about Faith and Miracles and The Call. For once, Christopher did not support her.

“It wouldn’t be much fun being a nun!” he said. “You couldn’t climb Mount Everest or sail across the world in a dinghy or fly a hot air balloon or anything. I thought you were coming with me when we grow up. I don’t want to take a silly old nun with me and that’s that.”

It certainly altered Letty’s perspective. Sharing Christopher’s adventures was what she wanted most in the world — even more than being a boy and wearing a snake belt. For the rest of the holidays, she only listened for The Call when she had nothing else to do.

“Letty seems much better!” Daddy said. “More her old self!”

Letty sat in the classroom thinking about going over Niagara Falls in a barrel with Christopher when Sister Bernadette started talking about Limbo … a place which was neither Heaven, Hell nor Purgatory. It was, she said in hushed tones, a place where the poor souls went who had not been baptized. Babies went there if they died soon after being born and had not been baptized by a priest. There they stayed, unable to go to Heaven like everyone else.

“Even though they’re too little ever to have been naughty?” Letty asked in a shocked voice.

“I’m afraid so,” said Sister Bernadette. “It is very sad. But you can all help these tiny, innocent souls to find their way to Heaven. You have only to say the sacred names of our blessed Jesus, Mary and Joseph to release a tiny soul to Heaven.”

Letty was enchanted — and at the same time horrified. It was wonderful to think that she — not yet seven years old — had the power to save babies from horrible old Limbo, but shocking to think of the hundreds and thousands which might not be saved. She resolved not to waste a further moment and began at once to chant under her breath, “Jesus, Mary, Joseph; Jesus, Mary, Joseph.” She had managed to save thirteen babies before Sister Bernadette cut her short.

“Letitia, you are day-dreaming yet again. You will remain behind after the lesson.”

Letty found that with practice, she could save time by shortening the sacred names. Jesus, Mary and Joseph became Jeez — May — Joze. In this way she could say them forty times a minute. She decided that the numbers were too large for her to work out and asked one of the older girls to do the multiplication for her. Thus she learned that she could save two thousand four hundred babies if she could keep going for an hour; that if she could manage four hours a day, she would save nine thousand six hundred babies and, if she could keep this up for a year, three million five hundred and four thousand babies could go to Heaven who would not otherwise have got there.

These astronomical numbers were beyond Letty’s comprehension but the senior girl had written them down for her on a piece of paper and at the first opportunity, she asked Sister Bernadette if there might be more than three million babies in Limbo. Sister Bernadette seemed surprised and told Letty not to worry about numbers. But how could she stop worrying, Letty asked herself, remembering just one wailing baby she’d seen in a pram in the park last holidays.

“Letty’s looking peaky again,” Daddy said when she returned home for the summer holiday. “If you’ve anything to say, Letty, speak up please. I don’t like all this muttering!”

“But it takes too long …” Letty tried to explain but Mummy said Daddy wanted to listen to the news and not to bother him now. The doctor thought she needed a tonic, but Mummy said a fortnight by the sea where Christopher lived would probably put some colour back in her cheeks.

Letty asked Christopher if he knew about Limbo.

“We don’t learn about places like that at our school,” he said. “Anyway, if those babies hadn’t got mothers and people to look after them, they’d die anyway. I should think your nun was making it all up to keep you out of mischief. Grown-ups are always thinking of ways to keep us out of mischief. Let’s go down to the beach and swim. I’ve got a new swimming costume now I’m at my new school. I’ve got all new uniform. I’ll show it to you if you like.”

Letty agreed it was very smart, especially the scarlet blazer with the black braid and gold buttons.

“But that’s not my bestest,” Christopher said, opening his dressing-table drawer. “How about that!” He dangled in front of Letty’s face a scarlet and black snake belt and watched with satisfaction the look of admiration and envy that spread over Letty’s face.

“It’s beautiful!” she said with all the enthusiasm he could have wished for. He felt kindly disposed towards her and said generously, “Here you are, Letty — you can have my old one. I don’t need it any more. That is, if you still want it …”

Letty could only nod as she fastened it round her waist. Her small hands linked the snake heads ecstatically. It was hers — for ever and ever, to wear whenever she pleased; to take to bed with her, to wear under her pyjamas and silly girls’ dresses.

“I’ll wear it over my bathing suit,” she announced when she could speak.

“It’ll get wet, silly!” said Christopher. “Come on now, we’re wasting all the afternoon. Bet I get down to the beach before you.”

It was only as she ran down to the water’s edge where Christopher was already splashing his feet, the snake belt securely around her small waist, that Letty paused. A point of enormous importance had struck her. Even if Sister Bernadette was wrong about Limbo and even if she had been wrong in thinking that God would call her, Letty, to be a nun, she had been right about the thing that really mattered. ‘God works in mysterious ways,’ she had said. Sister Bernadette had never met her cousin so how could she possibly have known — any more than Letty could have guessed — that He would use Christopher’s new school uniform to give Letty her miracle?



 

 

AS I left the Customs Hall behind me and pushed my trolley through the doors into the meeting area, my eyes searched the crowd milling up against the metal railings of the barrier. There was no sign of Patti.

‘If there’s no one there to meet you, take a taxi!’ she had said. ‘It isn’t far!’ So I walked to the end of the railings where a group of drivers stood holding up their cards. My name was not on any of them.

My depression deepened. I was not looking forward to the interview facing me this afternoon. In fact, unless it had been imperative, I would not have come back to England at all.

The crowd round the barrier had thinned slightly, but there was still no one to meet me. I thought they just might have been delayed, so I’d give it ten minutes and then I’d go and find a taxi.

I found a group of chairs where I could keep an eye on the barrier. A young woman came towards me wearing the uniform of an air hostess. Very attractive, I thought — and then I noticed the small boy she was holding by one hand. She dumped him in the empty seat beside me, saying, “You can wait here for me, Paul. I’m going to telephone your mother to say we’ll be late back. We don’t want her worrying. There’s a flight due in from Spain in half an hour. If your father isn’t on it, we’ll go home.”

The boy’s eyes followed the trim figure as his companion walked over to the bank of pay phones. As usual, there was a queue. He turned his head to stare at me and for a moment, I thought he had recognized me. He returned my smile with that English shyness I had all but forgotten. In Spain, children of all ages would convers. . .