The Preacher's Son - Juliette Duncan Page 0,8
back to the office and attack the mountain of paperwork waiting on my desk.
As I drove to my office, I found myself thinking about Brazil again, wondering just how many kids like Kane there were, but with no one to represent them against a system that would throw them in prison for the ‘crime’ of being homeless and alone. The sheer injustice made my skin bristle.
You could do something, that voice said. I tried to ignore it. What could anyone realistically do in three weeks?
On the way to work, I passed an old, stone church. It was a pretty little place and I’d often gone in there seeking peace after a difficult morning in court. I pulled into the car park and got out of my car. The church itself was locked, but I walked through the small cemetery and sat on a bench underneath a willow tree, enjoying the peace that always seemed to settle over the place. I didn’t really know why I’d found the need to go there, but for some reason it had called me and so I answered the call.
Tipping my head back, I closed my eyes and basked in the warmth of the sun on my face, but as someone sat next to me, I quickly straightened and opened my eyes. I hadn’t seen anyone else on the path.
It was an older lady, somewhat bedraggled and wearing layers of clothing even in this heat. When she smiled, I saw that most of her teeth were missing.
“Hello, Penny,” she said, making me jump.
I figured she must know me from the homeless shelter, and I immediately felt guilty that I didn’t remember her at all. I rarely forgot a face, and the same characters tended to turn up over any length of time, but I simply couldn’t place this lady at all, although she obviously knew me.
“Hey, how are you doing?” I asked, trying not to betray my confusion. Hopefully something would jog my memory and her name would come to me.
“Oh, I'm not so bad,” she replied pleasantly.
“Do you have anywhere to stay? Are you at the shelter?” I asked.
She smiled and looked around the churchyard. Surely she wasn’t sleeping here? I would have felt sad for her, but there was an aura of peacefulness about her that made it hard to view her in a tragic light. I racked my brain to try and remember her.
“I’m sorry,” I said, feeling terrible, “but I can’t remember your name.”
The woman grinned, revealing her broken teeth. She would have been pretty once, I realised, as her eyes lit up merrily. “You don’t remember, do you?” she asked playfully.
“I’m really sorry, but no. I’ve had a stressful morning,” I said by way of apology.
“Oh yes, your job must be very stressful, being in court all the time. You're very good at it though, aren’t you?”
I blinked. I’d obviously had a lengthy conversation with her at some point, judging by how much she knew about me, so why couldn’t I remember her? Perhaps she hadn’t been to the shelter in years. That did happen.
“I suppose so,” I said modestly. I had the sudden urge to confide in her, which wasn’t like me at all. “But I’m wondering if it’s the right thing, right now. I thought I was so certain about the future, but now I’m not so sure.”
She nodded sagely, as if she completely understood, and we sat in companionable silence for a few moments, watching a bright white butterfly flitting amongst the flowers in front of us.
“It’s so lovely here,” I murmured, closing my eyes again. I felt almost drowsy, so much so that it took a few moments before her next words completely sunk in.
“Yes, it is. But Brazil is lovely this time of year, too. You really should go. It might be just what you need. What both of you need.”
As I opened my eyes to ask her what she meant, and how on earth she could possibly know about Brazil, my phone rang shrilly in my bag. It would be my boss, Pat, wondering why I hadn’t updated him about Kane. I leaned down and fumbled around in my bag, feeling flustered, and by the time I sat back up the woman had gone. I looked around for her as I gave Pat a rundown, but she was nowhere to be seen. She certainly moved fast for an old lady.
I returned to my car and drove back to the office in a daze, trying