Chapter 1

Sasha Clarke left the church, deep in thought. Unconsciously, her hand reached out and met that of her boyfriend, Malcolm Stevenson. The Good Friday vigil had finished, enough in itself for sombre contemplation, but there was more to her mood than that. Malcolm squeezed her hand gently. "Penny for them?"

Ordinarily she would have responded with some humorous remark, but not that time. After several seconds, she said slowly, "Dulcie. It's a year, more or less, since Peter was killed. Seeing her there, holding baby Peter ... sorrow and love, Mal. Sorrow and love."

"Ah ... yes." They walked on, hand in hand, from Church Street to cross Mill Road to Wantz Chase. As they reached the corner of the school playing field, Malcolm stopped. "Sasha ... you know I love you..." she was about to speak, but he lovingly touched one finger to her lips. She kissed it, and was silent to allow him to continue. "We've been together four years, nearly five, and I think we'd know by now if what we have isn't real. Seeing Dulcie, I had to think what it'd be like not to have you in my life. Sasha, I know there're no guarantees, but I want to be with you for ever. Will you ... will you marry me?"

Sasha was stunned into silence for several seconds. "Oh ... Mal ... I don't know. I love you ... of course I love you ... but ... what would your mother say?"

"Ask her. I'll bet it's some variation of 'about time, too'. Talk to her. Talk to Dulcie. Take your time ... but, oh, Sasha..." he wrapped his arms round her and held her tightly. They disengaged and made their way home. Jeanne Stevenson's reaction was as predicted by her son. "My dear, that's wonderful! When's the date?"

"I haven't ... I mean, I'm not sure ... I can't..."

Jeanne held her at arm's length. "Don't tell me you're still hung up on your past? After you've lived here all this time? You know Malcolm loves you ... if I had any doubts, you wouldn't be sleeping with my son." Sasha's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open, and Jeanne went on, "I thought I made it clear at the outset that I knew..." she paused, "of course I pretended nothing was going on, but why do you think you're in the room on the other side of the shared bathroom from Malcolm?"

"But Jeanne..."

"Sasha, go talk to Dulcie. She'll straighten you out."

Dulcie was smiling as she responded to Sasha's inarticulate and confused description of her difficulty. "Sasha, I went through much the same thing, you know. Except I really was a prostitute. And I was hooked on heroin, too – really badly. Not to mention dirty and half-starved. I can understand why you feel unworthy, but you aren't. 'If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old is gone, the new is come.' Forgive me, Sasha ... I know you believe. You've worked hard to learn about the Gospel, led meditations, read the lessons ... done all the right things, but you've never met Jesus, have you?"

"I met Him ... in you, and Peter, Malcolm and Jeanne, Arthur ... everyone."

Dulcie smiled, "Thank you, Sasha – that is as it should be. But I think you need something more. I'm going to pray for you and I want you to ask Jesus to live in your heart. If you prefer, offer Him your life, or ask Him to show you what you mean to Him, okay?"

"I suppose..."

Sasha had often enough witnessed Dulcie praying for others, and was not troubled by the liquid sounds – almost musical on that occasion – that flowed from her lips. She found that her heart began to feel lighter as she relaxed into the situation. Intrigued by the choices Dulcie offered, she found herself asking, "Lord, what do I mean to you?"

The surroundings, the room at the Rectory, Dulcie herself ... faded away and she was standing on a hillside amidst wild flowers and grasses; further down the slope she could see trees, and not too far away there were sheep grazing. The sun shone down from a blue sky, dotted with small clouds. For a moment, she thought, 'I need sun-screen... ' but she was too comfortable to continue to worry.

"Well, sister ... you come at last."

She turned and saw a man ... a shepherd, with a long crook in one hand. Tall, bearded, his hair was long and dark, drawn back into a pony-tail. He was wearing a mostly red plaid shirt with a similar neckerchief and light-coloured, coarse, baggy trousers. His feet were hidden by the grass.

"Where am I?"

"You might call it heaven. That's near enough for now. There's much more of it, of course."

His voice ... afterwards she found she was unable to describe His voice, only that, "I felt so warm, so loved," but she knew that she would always know it again. "Sir?"

"You asked what I thought of you. Come here, sister."

She approached, wondering at how safe she felt doing so. He pulled back the sleeves of the shirt and showed her scars at his wrists ... she looked up at his face and saw scars forming a ring across his forehead ... and fell to her knees. "Oh, Lord..."

He reached out and lifted her to her feet. "What do you mean to Me? I would have hung on the Cross, just for you, if you were the only person in the world. You call me Lord, and so I am, but I am also your Brother, and I love you."

"But, I'm only..."

"Look at yourself, Sasha..."

Sasha looked down for the first time, to see that instead of the clean, but worn, jeans and t-shirt, she was wearing a dress; a dress so white she had to squint to look at it.

"Come with me. I want to show you something." He led her up the hill to the summit. At first, she could only see more of the same, but then she began to see scenes – all of them grey and dismal. Men and women, gloomy, trudging to work. A grubby child, huddled in a doorway, crying. A scruffy man hunched under a bridge, drinking from a bottle. A woman working in a kitchen, tears streaking her face. "I need you to be my eyes and ears ... to be my voice, to be my hands and feet in a fallen world. Will you go for me?"

Sasha was weeping, silently, overcome by the sense of suffering she had observed. "I will go, but I don't know what I can do."

"Don't be afraid. I'll be with you. My Spirit already dwells in you. You just do what you can and I will do the rest through you. And ... Sasha..."

"Yes, Lord."

"You will be even more effective, working with the man who also loves you as I do. When you see him, pray for him as Dulcie prayed for you."

Dulcie watched as a succession of expressions flitted over Sasha's face; puzzlement, wonder, awe, joy, sadness, determination ... then Peter, the baby, started to cry and she rose to deal with his nappy. Behind her, Sasha stirred and began to sing. Dulcie smiled as she recognised the hymn ... in Koine Greek ... from Paul's letter to the Philippians, chapter two... 'Touto phroneite en humin ho kai en Christo Iesou... ' (Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus... ), and continued her necessary ministrations before lifting Peter off the changing mat.

"Can I hold him?"

Dulcie looked at Sasha, who was standing next to her, smiling; glowing might be a better description.

"Of course! I gather you did meet Jesus?"

"That was just ... there aren't words, are there?" Sasha took Peter from Dulcie and cuddled him. The baby, accustomed to several young women caring for him regularly including Sasha, accepted the transfer, and Sasha described her encounter to Dulcie, whose own smile broadened.

"Sounds as though you've accepted your own commission in the Army of God," she commented.

"And ... Malcolm," Sasha said.

"Ah, yes. Can I suggest including Jeanne when you pray for Malcolm? Ask her to pray with you?"

"Well, yes ... I suppose so..."

"I just have a sort of hunch about it."

"Uh huh..." Sasha looked at her with a slight smile, "I know about your hunches. Before I go ... how is your doctor friend?"

"Oh, he's fine. Why do you ask?" Dulcie's slight blush told Sasha more than her words or her careful tone.

"Oh, just that if I'll be more effective with a partner, perhaps you would, too?" Sasha kissed Dulcie on the cheek. "Thanks, Dulcie. I'd better get home."

After she left, Dulcie stood, thoughtful, holding Peter who was content in her arms.

"Oh, Peter," she said ... and she wasn't addressing the baby ... she was looking at something a very long way away.

"Well? Did Dulcie help?"

Sasha smiled at Jeanne Stevenson. "Actually ... Someone else did. Of course, Dulcie showed me the way."

"You certainly seem happier."

"Oh, yes. But I'm to pray for Malcolm. And Dulcie said you should, too."

"What's that? Me? Pray for someone? I don't do that..."

"Well, I agree with Dulcie; I think you should be there, at least. Is he back?"

"Yes – studying in his room, or he was."

"I'll fetch him and meet you in the lounge, Jeanne." Sasha was unaware of a sea-change in her behaviour; she was being much more assertive than usual. Jeanne was a little surprised, but very pleased.

Malcolm was pleased – as always – to see Sasha. It wasn't unusual for her to summon him downstairs ... but her behaviour was definitely not usual.

"What is it, Sasha?"

"I want you to come downstairs."

"Well, okay ... but why?"

"Come downstairs and you'll find out."

"But ... okay."

He knew there was something going on when he saw his mother waiting there; not that she wouldn't usually be in the room, but that there was something about her posture.

"Okay, then Sasha – give."

"I've been to see Dulcie..."

"Oh. And?"

"I'm supposed to pray for you the way she prayed for me. And your mother, too."

There was a longish silence as Malcolm assimilated what she'd said. "What do I have to do?"

"Mal ... what do you want out of life?"

"I want to marry you, finish my degree, start a family..."

Sasha's eyes lit up; Malcolm hadn't mentioned starting a family before. Jeanne Stevenson smiled too, unnoticed by the two younger people. "That's all very well, Mal. But..." Malcolm's face dropped at the qualification, "you know God has to be involved too."

"Well, yes. That goes without saying..."

"No ... it has to be said, Mal. To be understood. I'm going to pray for you, and so is Jeanne. I want you to talk to God. Open your heart ... do you understand?"

He stepped up to her and took her hand. "I think so. I think so. But, Sasha, it's kind of ... scary."

She smiled then. "Yes, it is. I'll hold your hand if you like..." She thought she was joking, but Malcolm was very serious when he replied.

"Sweetheart, I don't think I could do it without you."

Sasha felt that her heart was melting, partly because of his words, but also his expression, which confirmed his words without a doubt. She did manage to keep her expression neutral, but it took an effort. "Why don't we all sit on the settee?" She didn't explain that it would be safer if one or more of them flopped down in a heap while God was dealing with them. She took Malcolm's hand – Jeanne took the other to her surprise – and led them to the seat where she began to pray before embarrassment stopped her. Malcolm murmured something she didn't catch.

Time and space mean nothing in eternity. Each of them experienced something different, and none were able to say how long they'd been there. Sasha was back on that hillside; the only words spoken were by the Shepherd, "Well done sister. Always remember you are a princess of the Kingdom," accompanied by a sense of being endlessly enfolded in love. She was the first to return to the room, seated next to her oblivious boyfriend and his mother.