22
It was only nine on Wednesday morning, but William had already had breakfast, written to Blanche, and been snorkelling with Davy. Today the dawn sky had been awash with a delicate pink, like the inside of a seashell. He never grew tired of snorkelling the same patch of coral. The variety of life and the way the water caressed his skin was always changing.
He was due to meet Reg at the front gate in a few minutes to walk to the midweek Bible study. Everything was walking distance in this place. Reg had said he was happy to take the first study, and William hadn’t objected. He had no plan to make a mess of things again.
Reg had asked him to remind the attendees of the previous story from Acts 3:1–10 so they could better discuss chapter four. Normally he would have laboured over jazzing
