Because it was Saturday, once the chores were completed we could go and play for the rest of the day. Mum usually packed us some sandwiches and encouraged us to go exploring in the foothills so she could have a bit of peace and quiet. But because it was early September, and therefore almost time for the Christadelphian Church’s union exams, we were told to be home to study by 2 pm. Because Caleb was eight, his exams were pretty easy. He just had to colour in some pictures and write the names of the key people in the drawings. But Mum still made him sit with her and tell her the Bible stories he had been learning that year to make sure he knew what he was doing.

Ruthy, at ten, would have a more grown-up exam and would have to sit in the middle hall for an hour to write out answers. Ruthy had won a union prize already. That meant she was in the top three Christadelphian students across Australia for her age group. Mum and Dad were very proud of this, and Dad framed her certificate and hung it on our bedroom wall. Mum and Dad put more store in results in the annual church exams than school exams, and when Ruthy had won her prize last December, Caleb had pushed Ruthy’s bead right up to his on the string until well after Christmas. He also pushed her, pinched her, called her a girly swot and a suck-up, but the bead told the real story.

Because I would be twelve just after Christmas, I had to sit the first of the senior exams this year, which meant a two-hour stint in the rear hall of the Halifax Street temple. I wasn’t looking forward to it and was hoping for an illness that would mean I couldn’t sit up straight or move my right hand for a week or two around exam time. I had considered praying for a relevant disease, but Ruthy said that was selfish because it wasn’t about God or someone else’s welfare, so I said I wouldn’t do it, even though I did sneak a little one in a couple of times. I explained to God that it would benefit Mum and Dad not to have me get yet another second-class certificate, and I couldn’t see any way to get a first-class certificate this year given I hadn’t done any homework between one Sunday and the next. Besides, Stephen Worth would win the prize for our year, as he did every year, so it was pretty much wasted effort.

We finished our jobs and pushed each other to be first out of the back door. We agreed to stay together until we had visited Mr Driver over the fence, and then go our separate ways for a couple of hours before study time. Mr Driver was our great friend, even though he was an old, old man. We had even considered giving him a bead, because his wife Mona was dead and he was almost like a member of our family, but we decided the beads should just be for Wilsons.