For a moment, it seemed that even the air raid siren had fallen silent, and all I could hear was the hiss of my least favourite grandmother’s urine hitting the inside of the bucket. In the unfortunate lighting from above, we could see the specks of wee that were splashing onto the floor. My grandmother’s face was set in a picture of horror.
My grandmother finished urinating and then had to grope about for some newspaper. After dabbing at herself with an article from the Telegraph, she un-straddled the bucket and pulled up her knickers. Then she picked up the bucket, which now had a good few inches of wee sloshing around in it and a sodden strip from the Telegraph floating on top, and carried it very carefully to the corner of the shelter. Not making eye contact with us, she sat primly on the bench on the right-hand side of the shelter and smoothed down her pleated skirt, as though she were sitting in church on Sunday. From beside her, she picked up a novel and opened it. She held it in front of her face, but her eyes were staring, unblinking, into the distance.
My mother and I both wordlessly took a seat on the bench opposite. Sitting down, I could see the flush of my grandmother’s cheeks. The bitter stink of urine wrapped itself around my nose and, I imagine, my mother’s and grandmother’s noses too. It made itself the fourth occupant in our tiny shelter.
My mother gently brushed my wet hair and then coaxed me into the spare dress she’d stored away under the bench for emergencies like this. Despite my skin being damp and the shelter being so cold, I made no protest.
‘I thought,’ my grandmother said into the silence, as she turned another page in her book, ‘you were out.’
My mother caught my eye and I knew that if I managed not to laugh, I’d get her jam rations for a week.
I laughed anyway and so did she.
Lenni and Forgiveness, Part I
‘DID YOU MISS me?’
Father Arthur let out a scream not befitting an elderly clergyman.
‘Lenni?’
‘I’m back!’
Having leapt to his feet, he stood with his hand on his heart and clambered out of the pew without much grace. Panting as though he were just crossing a marathon finish line, he swallowed, and then said in a hoarse voice, ‘Yes. I can see that. I’m old, you know. You shouldn’t surprise old people like that.’
‘Did you miss me?’
He wiped the back of his hand on his forehead. ‘It has been a little quiet in here lately.’
‘Do you need medical attention?’ I asked him. ‘I’ve been here a while, I’ve picked up a thing or two.’
‘I’m fine, thank you.’
‘I’m fairly certain I can hook you up to a drip.’
He chose not to comment, and instead asked, ‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’
‘Well,’ I said, ‘may I sit?’
‘Of course.’ He offered me a pew and then nervously hovered until I invited him to sit beside me.
‘Are you well?’ he asked.
‘Of course not.’ I smiled. ‘I’ve been thinking a lot about forgiveness.’
‘Really?’
‘There are lots of stories in the Bible about forgiveness, right? Wasn’t there one about a milking cow and a vine? Or was it a mouse who couldn’t sew? Anyway, I’m not very good at forgiving people because I find it hard to forget. Also, if you forgive, you can’t have the fun of getting revenge, and revenge, I have found, is so much more satisfying than forgiveness.’
‘I see.’ Father Arthur folded his arms across his round tummy. I wondered if God deliberately has all of his priests slowly start to resemble Father Christmas to endear them to the local community.
‘So, what do you think?’ I asked.
‘About what?’
‘About all of it; forgiveness, punishment, redemption.’
‘I think you raise an interesting point: forgiveness is a huge part of the example Christ set for us. Although I am not sure I agree with the part about revenge being more fun.’
‘But God spends half the Bible getting revenge on people – what about the plagues and the ghosts and that thing with the parrot?’
‘The parrot? Lenni, I don’t think you’ve …’ He thought, coughed, and then he asked, ‘Where exactly did you read the Bible, Lenni?’
‘At school.’
‘At school,’ he repeated. ‘Okay.’
‘Well, they read it to us. You know, Sunday school. They would take us out of church and sit us all on the carpet and read to us.’
‘And were these books always the Bible or were they sometimes something else?’