‘That’s right,’ said John, ‘but the manager did not want to burden the footballer with a thirty thousand price tag, so during the negotiations he took a pound note from his wallet and gave it to the tea lady who was in the room at the time.’

‘Cor, ah bet she was pleased, sir,’ said Little Malcolm.

‘Now, I want you to imagine all the players in the Ragley Rovers football team are each worth the same as Tommy Taylor. So how many pounds would you need if every one of the eleven players was worth twenty-nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine pounds?’

A few children scratched their heads, but they were used to doing sums every morning and learning their tables, so long multiplication was fairly straightforward, even with numbers as large as these.

John smiled when Robin Knutsford was the first to raise his hand with the correct answer. He remembered that he needed to speak to Mrs Knutsford as a matter of urgency.

In morning assembly Joseph discussed the importance of praying to God.

‘So that’s why we say the Lord’s Prayer every day,’ he concluded.

Through daily practice, the children were word-perfect, with a few exceptions among the younger ones. Five-year-old Arnold Icklethwaite, a little boy with a constantly runny nose, was a case in point. Arnold closed his eyes and recited, ‘Our Father, who does art in heaven, Harold is His name. Amen.’

Arnold was destined to presume God had the same name as his uncle and to carry on with this version until he was eight years old.

Veronica Poole put up her hand.

‘Yes, Veronica,’ said Joseph.

‘Mr Evans, if God is watching in church on Sunday I can show him my new shoes.’

‘What a lovely thought, Veronica,’ said a beaming Joseph.

However, his confidence immediately took a beating once again when he was asked a question he couldn’t answer.

It was Arnold’s elder brother, Billy, who raised his hand, looking decidedly puzzled.

‘Ah’ve been thinkin’, Mr Evans …’

‘Yes?’

‘’Bout God.’

‘That’s good, William,’ said Joseph. ‘And what were you thinking?’

‘Well ’ow did ’e know ’e were God … who told ’im?’

John Pruett recognized a soul in torment and moved quickly to ring the bell for morning playtime.

In the staff-room at morning break Joseph was sipping tea and trying to recover from Billy Icklethwaite’s question. He looked at his sister with concern.

‘What’s wrong, Joseph?’ asked Vera.

Joseph gave a deep sigh. ‘I need a little gentle reassurance. As you know, I’ve been asked to judge the best shed in the village.’

‘Good luck with that,’ said John. ‘There’s a lot of competition.’

‘Did you know, Vera,’ continued Joseph, ‘there are three hundred and sixty-five assurances in the Bible?’

Vera sighed. ‘As a matter of fact I did,’ she replied pointedly.

For a moment Joseph looked crestfallen and Vera felt a pang of guilt.