Ruthy said the Catholic saints weren’t really able to do miracles, or they would be in the Bible. This resulted in an interesting conversation about the difference between magic and miracles. We concluded that anything magic that was about God or Jesus was a miracle, and everything else was just plain magic or a trick. As a result, the bathwater thing was either a hoax, like you saw at the circus sometimes, or it was magic.

Caleb developed a total fascination with Catholic saints. He said our church was very boring because no one could do anything special at all, except for Brother Steve Wilbur who had a puppet in a box called Brian he could bring out and make talk, even though we all knew it was really Brother Steve throwing his voice. Some of Caleb’s favourite saints included Saint Joseph of Cupertino, who could fly and used to sit in trees and tell people the view was nice; Father Paul of Moll, who could make birds come to sing to him and when they did their feathers changed colour; and Saint John Bosco who could make a dog called Grigio turn up out of nowhere to protect him when he was in danger.

Lincoln also offered to ask his mum about Saint Joan. Caleb asked him to do so as soon as possible because the matter was urgent.

Caleb nagged Ruthy to find out about Saint Joan too, and Ruthy agreed to have something for him by the weekend if he would just shut up and leave it alone for a few days. He agreed but didn’t keep his promise and asked her at least twice a night if she was reading anything important about the burnt soldier. If he asked too loudly, we shushed him quiet. It wouldn’t do for Mum to find out we were reading about a Catholic when she was already so down.

Now that Caleb was feeling a bit better, I convinced them to play a game of which I was particularly fond. We would put the record player on the kitchen table and open the window so we could hear the music in the garden. I would put on one of the few records we had, ‘Colonel Bogey March’ from the film The Bridge on the River Kwai, and make the others line up and march behind me. I sent Ruthy to go down the street to see who else was at home and might be convinced to join my troupe, and before long we had seven children in our line-up. That gave me the chance to drill them rather than march myself, and I stood on the sidelines and yelled orders and criticism of their marching style, until I made Rose Partington from number 17 cry and she and her brother went home. Ruthy said I had to learn to be less bossy if I wanted kids to play with us, but I said that it was my job to get them all up to speed or we wouldn’t win marching competitions, and Ruthy said there weren’t any competitions to win, which means she missed the point.