Faith, Charity
and Hope
by Oonah V
Joslin
Faith filled
the small biscuit-glaze jug with water, placed it
in the centre of the table and fluffed out the
wild flowers she’d picked. Wild flowers
always looked so innocent and pretty. Ben had
phoned to say he’d be late again but she was
ahead of the game this time. She only had to
reheat dinner in the microwave – her one
concession to culinary modernity.
Ben called out
that he was home, went to wash his hands and
splashed some water over his face and bald head.
“Smells good,” he said sitting down to
dinner. Pizza would have done. “I thought we
threw that out?” he said pointing at the old
jug.
“Took it to a Charity Shop last year,”
she said.
“So, how come it’s back?”
“Oh, it isn’t the same one,” she
explained helpfully leaving him more confused.
“Where did you get this one from
then?”
“I got it from a Charity Shop,” she
said fetching the potatoes. “Not the same
one of course.”
“The Charity Shop or the jug?” he asked.
“Both… I mean - neither.”
Ben thought about this. “So you gave one, to
one Charity Shop and then went and bought one
exactly the same from another Charity Shop a few
months later?”
“That’s right dear.”
“Hardly economical… Why?”
“I wanted to put wild flowers in it.”
He decided to give up and just eat.
“Do you
know that woman who used to work in the Charity
shop?” she asked.
“No… What woman?”
“The false blond I told you about.”
He looked blankly at her.
“The gossip monger. Oh Ben, you do know -
she told me about Kath and Brian and it turned
out to be true. Well, she’s doing
someone else’s husband herself now,
apparently – and after all she said too!
They were - seen you know?”
Ben swallowed. “Oh? And where did you get
that from?”
“The Charity Shop of course! The woman there
told me.” Faith smiled. She loved a bit of
good old fashioned, traditional dirt.
“But not the same Charity Shop?”
“Yes - but a different woman. Anyway, from
what I hear they must be both pretty desperate.
Apparently he’s bald and she’s fat and
they’re no spring chickens neither of them.”
“Bit uncharitable…,” he remarked.
Faith
continued to chatter away but he was only half
listening.
“Ben,”
she said, “you’re not listening to a
word I say, are you?”
He smoothed a
hand over his scalp. “I am dear, but I do
hope you don’t believe everything you
hear in Charity Shops. Second hand gossip is notoriously
unreliable.”
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