Children

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Joe practically fell in through the door, such was his excitement and his eagerness to tell Grandma what he had learned that day in Kids’ Church. According to his teacher it was possible to have angels as guests and not be aware of it. Grandma urged him to calm down and tell her everything, which he did, at the dinner table, turning a teaspoon absentmindedly as he did so, as though it was covered with honey and he did not want to drip any of the precious substance.

Secretly, he thought there was no possible way that he wouldn’t know. He would spot an angel a mile away! They would have to be wearing long overcoats to cover their wings for a start. And then their faces would surely be glowing while everyone else’s was just normal and wrinkly.

Grandma listened intently as Joe effused about the whole concept until he tired himself out, by which time dinner was nearly ready anyway. Joe was a smart six year-old with an inquisitive nature and a lively imagination. As he washed his hands before eating, he mulled over the lesson again and tried to think if he might have actually met an angel before without knowing it.

His mind was still buzzing with the possibilities when he returned to the table and was surprised to find that he and his grandmother had company. He had not been aware that anyone was coming for Sunday lunch and he was usually well warned beforehand about not asking too many questions and not interrupting.

An elderly gentleman had arrived and he seemed to be a friend of Grandma’s because they were talking as if they had known each other for a long time. Grandma noticed Joe coming into the room and looking at her by way of asking for an explanation. She broke off he conversation with the stranger momentarily and said, ‘Joe, I would like you to meet an old friend of mine. This is John. And he is going to stay for dinner.’

John protested and apologised and insisted it had not been his intention to interrupt their Sunday lunch, but Grandma insisted more vociferously and won the argument. John stayed. He had come with some news about Grandma’s close friend whom she had written to every week since she had left home fifty years ago. They had kept up the correspondence throughout the era before computerisation, which had accelerated communication for better or worse.

John had arrived with a personal message from Grandma’s friend, explaining that she had wanted him to tell her in person, rather than by letter. Joan had been unwell for some time, and although she had mentioned it in her letters, she had played it down.

Joe sensed that John’s conversation with Grandma was serious and he ate his dinner with an uncharacteristic silence that belied his personality and curiosity. He would eat a few mouthfuls, listen intently but trying to look as if he wasn’t really listening. The honey spoon had been left on the table when John had arrived unexpectedly and it was turned incessantly.

Joe was trying to work out if John was actually an angel, but he could not see any wings or feathers of any kind for that matter, and he was not wearing a long coat. His nose was shiny and his hair white, but then, Grandma had white hair too and she was a real person.

Joe saw that Grandma was welling up with tears and John moved his hand on to hers, right on left. Then he started praying. He prayed like Joe had never heard a prayer before. It was as if he actually knew God and was talking to Him as he had been to Grandma. Joe instinctively bowed his head but stole a glance to see if the rest of John’s face was shining, but the only change seemed to be in his voice. Now it sounded like John’s voice was breaking too.

The prayer only lasted a few more minutes but it was enough to clinch the argument for Joe. John did not stay long into the afternoon and when he rose to leave, Joe finally plucked up the courage to speak to the old gentleman:
‘John,’ he said, ‘You don’t look like an angel, but if you are, when you go back to heaven can you tell my mummy and daddy I love them and I miss them?’

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