her head and walks to the bed. She sits and pats the bedcovers with the palm of her hand, beckoning Ollie to join her there. Amusement shows through her oval eyes, which strain to mask it. Ollie climbs onto the bed and lies down on his back, bony knees pointed toward the ceiling.
Mrs. Chadwick places a hand on one of these knees, caressing it like a mother. “Ollie, I know this is confusing, but I want you to know that Christians do not have to lie on their bellies to pray.”
“Is it wrong, then?”
“Well, I imagine that no posture could be considered incorrect if one is praying. But it is unnecessary to prostrate yourself, and in some quarters people may think that you are, what shall I say, promoting your piety.”
Ollie does not know what piety means, but he says nothing.
“And another thing… God knows many languages. He is omniscient, after all. That means he knows everything, so to speak. So you do not have to pray in Farsi for God to understand you. Truth is, he understands English quite well but prefers Latin. Don’t ask me why. Are you clear about these things?”
“Yes, Mum.”
“Good. Then we have another issue to go over, something of great importance to you.”
Ollie sits up and crosses his legs. Everything that Mum says is of great importance to him.
“Reginald Pennick paid me a visit this evening. You remember Reginald, don’t you? The Anglican priest from St. Martin’s.”
“The fat one, yes.”
Mrs. Chadwick’s eyes glisten with delight at the boy’s candor. “Yes. Mr. Pennick stopped by to deliver some wonderful news. We have received permission for you to attend school at the Charterhouse, a fine boarding school.”
“A boarding school?”
“Yes, a boarding school, meaning that you will live there also. This is the best way for you to absorb the atmosphere of the school and get to know your fellow students and teachers.”
Ollie is suddenly fearful. “But I want to stay here. With you, Mum. I don’t want to leave home again. I can learn to pray the correct way.”
“Oh, Ollie, this is not a punishment. I’m not sending you away because you prayed incorrectly. This is… a reward . You will learn so much there. And you will receive the finest religious instruction.”
Ollie wants to register another complaint, but this school, this Charterhouse, is beginning to sound like the famous madrisih in Mashhad. Yes, had not his mother promised that he would soon attend the finest school? She must have meant the Charterhouse. An English madrisih. It must be a very good school if Mum were sending him there. And while he is quite certain he cannot become a mulla at the Charterhouse, perhaps he will become a great Christian priest.
His fear evaporates and excitement begins to surge, tempered only by the knowledge that his friend, Jalal, will not be there with him. “Then I am ready to go,” he says.
Mrs. Chadwick, amazed at his sudden transformation, simply stares at him for a moment before saying, “Pardon me?”
“I accept your reward. I would like to go to the Charterhouse very much.” He speaks with a sense of joy and throws his arms around Mrs. Chadwick as he says, “Thank you, Mum, thank you.” He remembers the day that his father gave him permission to attend the madrisih. He has the same feeling now.
Mrs. Chadwick says, “You are very welcome, my son.” She embraces him, wraps herself around him, absorbs him into herself, and the years melt away until she is holding Augustus in her arms again.
Chapter 4
The picnic had been dreamy. Ollie and his mother and Gordon had romped and played in the sun, cuddled in the cool grass, stuffed themselves with Clare’s lunch of bread and cheese and haddock, sipped sweet tea, and then explored the park on foot. They had laughed at bad jokes, recalled stories of Persia, and had even shed a few tears over the memories of friends left behind. Ollie had never felt so safe and loved. His only regret, as he would recall in later
Mrs. Chadwick places a hand on one of these knees, caressing it like a mother. “Ollie, I know this is confusing, but I want you to know that Christians do not have to lie on their bellies to pray.”
“Is it wrong, then?”
“Well, I imagine that no posture could be considered incorrect if one is praying. But it is unnecessary to prostrate yourself, and in some quarters people may think that you are, what shall I say, promoting your piety.”
Ollie does not know what piety means, but he says nothing.
“And another thing… God knows many languages. He is omniscient, after all. That means he knows everything, so to speak. So you do not have to pray in Farsi for God to understand you. Truth is, he understands English quite well but prefers Latin. Don’t ask me why. Are you clear about these things?”
“Yes, Mum.”
“Good. Then we have another issue to go over, something of great importance to you.”
Ollie sits up and crosses his legs. Everything that Mum says is of great importance to him.
“Reginald Pennick paid me a visit this evening. You remember Reginald, don’t you? The Anglican priest from St. Martin’s.”
“The fat one, yes.”
Mrs. Chadwick’s eyes glisten with delight at the boy’s candor. “Yes. Mr. Pennick stopped by to deliver some wonderful news. We have received permission for you to attend school at the Charterhouse, a fine boarding school.”
“A boarding school?”
“Yes, a boarding school, meaning that you will live there also. This is the best way for you to absorb the atmosphere of the school and get to know your fellow students and teachers.”
Ollie is suddenly fearful. “But I want to stay here. With you, Mum. I don’t want to leave home again. I can learn to pray the correct way.”
“Oh, Ollie, this is not a punishment. I’m not sending you away because you prayed incorrectly. This is… a reward . You will learn so much there. And you will receive the finest religious instruction.”
Ollie wants to register another complaint, but this school, this Charterhouse, is beginning to sound like the famous madrisih in Mashhad. Yes, had not his mother promised that he would soon attend the finest school? She must have meant the Charterhouse. An English madrisih. It must be a very good school if Mum were sending him there. And while he is quite certain he cannot become a mulla at the Charterhouse, perhaps he will become a great Christian priest.
His fear evaporates and excitement begins to surge, tempered only by the knowledge that his friend, Jalal, will not be there with him. “Then I am ready to go,” he says.
Mrs. Chadwick, amazed at his sudden transformation, simply stares at him for a moment before saying, “Pardon me?”
“I accept your reward. I would like to go to the Charterhouse very much.” He speaks with a sense of joy and throws his arms around Mrs. Chadwick as he says, “Thank you, Mum, thank you.” He remembers the day that his father gave him permission to attend the madrisih. He has the same feeling now.
Mrs. Chadwick says, “You are very welcome, my son.” She embraces him, wraps herself around him, absorbs him into herself, and the years melt away until she is holding Augustus in her arms again.
Chapter 4
The picnic had been dreamy. Ollie and his mother and Gordon had romped and played in the sun, cuddled in the cool grass, stuffed themselves with Clare’s lunch of bread and cheese and haddock, sipped sweet tea, and then explored the park on foot. They had laughed at bad jokes, recalled stories of Persia, and had even shed a few tears over the memories of friends left behind. Ollie had never felt so safe and loved. His only regret, as he would recall in later
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