I see the pulpit. It looks so much bigger than I remember. Varnished cedar dad always said as we perched in our pew on Sundays.
Me in a corny straw hat and my best sunday clothes. Dad in his sunday finery.
Over in the front pews on the right ‘the Jones family.’ Plenty of money, pillars of the community but couldn’t give a hoot about other people.
Just the other day when Jeremy Jones and I went to see his parents about us getting married they both nearly had fits. The colour suffused so much in Mrs Joness face I thought she would drop dead on the spot.
Jeremy refused to run away with me and the only thing left was for me to go away and have the baby and adopt it out.
I explained to dad and he was very understanding. He would take me down to the train station the next morning.
During the night I dreamt I was in a mugging with the perpetrator wielding a large knife.
The next morning dad came to call me and found me lying in a pool of blood. I had lost the baby and lost my life.