Angels and Men Read Online Free PDF Page A

spun in fire around its focus.
    Mara stared at what she had drawn. It depicted the ultimate silliness of the universe. This was how the world had seemed to her since she had turned her back on her faith. And yet she had a recurring sense that it all meant something, that it was worth working, building cathedrals, and that the whirling chaos was enclosed in the wings of the watchful seraphim. Ah, but that could be the last trick of all. At the very end your fingers would turn up the Joker again. But did it matter, even? Life might be everything, or it might be nothing at all.
    There was an abrupt knock. Mara jumped. The Christian Union again? She sat motionless for a moment, tempted not to answer, but curiosity eventually drew her towards the door. She opened it, and there stood the red-head and the china doll.
    â€˜Do you have any milk?’ asked the red-head. Was this a gambit, a sort of borrowing-a-cup-of-sugar from the new neighbours?
    â€˜Yes,’ Mara said, watching them carefully.
    â€˜She has milk,’ said the red-head in an undertone to her friend. She turned to Mara again. ‘And do you have any tea?’
    Mara’s hand quivered to close the door. But no, she would just see what they were up to. ‘Yes,’ she answered, a hint of nastiness creeping into her voice.
    The red-head turned to the other again and whispered, ‘She has tea as well!’
    The china doll widened her blue eyes. ‘Tea!’ she breathed.
    What were they playing at?
    â€˜How very odd,’ said the red-head, ‘because we have cakes.’ She held up a box.
    â€˜And biscuits,’ said the other, showing the packet.
    â€˜I have a terrible sense of foreboding,’ continued the red-head. ‘It’s almost as if something is about to happen . Do you think this strange coincidence of tea things is significant?’ She turned to her friend. ‘I sense an impending tea party.’
    They both turned to Mara and asked, ‘What do you think?’
    Mara stood and considered. She could close the door in their faces, or open it and let them in. If she let them in, nothing would ever be the same again. Fear touched her. Shut the door! But a memory rose up and swallowed her mind; and there she was again, aged fourteen, turning the corner in the grounds of the clinic, the stitches still prickling in her slashed wrist. Sunlight was slanting down through the trees with smoke from the bonfire hanging in its shafts, and in that moment came the thought: I choose to live . This was another such moment. She opened the door.
    â€˜Oh frabjous day!’ exclaimed the china doll, and the two of them burst in. Mara watched their gaze sweeping around looking for clues or demonstrations of her personality.
    â€˜But you’ve done nothing to your room!’ protested the red-head. ‘No pictures, no plants, no nothing.’
    Mara began to fill the kettle and make the tea, moving between them as they talked and snooped, as alien as a foreign maid.
    â€˜She has nice cups, though,’ said the china doll.
    â€˜Yes, I’ll admit she has nice cups.’
    Mara glanced at the pretty blue and white china. Her mother had bought them for her. For a moment there was silence, and the three of them stood as though listening to the kettle.
    â€˜You may be wondering who we are,’ said the red-head suddenly.
    Mara raised an eyebrow. In fact, she had been wondering nothing of the sort, since their beings were fixed in her mind by the labels she had attached to them.
    â€˜May was at school with you,’ said the red-head, indicating the other girl.
    â€˜Only I was several years younger,’ said the china doll, ‘so you won’t remember me. And anyway, we moved house years ago when Papa was made vicar of St Botolph of the Holy Nails.’ Mara said nothing, and the girl went on: ‘You were brilliant at drawing. We used to have RE lessons in your form room after lunch on Fridays, and