Home at last. The Reverend Henry Mobbs glanced through the train window and saw the first signs of the approaching town. He stood and pulled his luggage from the rack. What a relief, he thought, to be back from that week-long, annual church conference in Sydney!
Thoughts of his wife Ellen and the cool manse were now uppermost. He felt a glow of anticipation. Tomorrow – first Sunday of Advent! Sermon already prepared. The liturgy would include the lighting of the first Advent candle. A memory interrupted his pleasant reflection. Last year the Advent candle had almost refused to light. He’d talked it over with his church clerk, Jim Kitchen. This year, he’d told him, we’ll start with a candle we’ve already had alight.
He stepped from the train and onto the station. Strange – he couldn’t see Ellen. Then he noticed a smiling figure walking towards him – Jim Kitchen, the church clerk! Good man, Jim – but inclined to diffidence. Found it hard to spit out a direct sentence – but top value anyway.
‘How’s things, Jim?’ Henry asked as they strode down the platform; ‘Any worries?’
‘No worries I can think of, Henry.’
‘Good. By the way, where’s Ellen? I thought she’d be here to collect me. Is she playing tennis?’
Jim shook his head. ‘No, she’s not playing tennis. She’s in hospital.’
The minister stopped in his tracks. ‘What? In Hospital? Why?’
‘Well, they think it was the shock.’
…
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