The Red Sheep

By Paul Richardson

The Red Sheep is a story set among the challenges faced by families as they deal with aging, mortality, religion, and relationships. Jessica, an only child, was immersed in a stable and supportive family life but it did not hide the fact she was different, and she saw the world differently. As a child she questioned her being. As a teenager she sent her mother in search of answers. As an adult she learned to accept life was what she could make of it.
Jessica’s journey was filled with the childhood joy of having special grandparents. When Pop and then Nan passed away, it was her youthful logic that helped her cope with their loss. With Pop’s views of an afterlife deeply embedded in her outlook, Jessica explored her background with conviction. The answers she found highlighted how unique she was.
The story will make you laugh. It will make you cry. It will make you question the world around you. It will cause you to marvel at the extraordinary lives led by everyday ordinary people.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Oct 2, 2019
• ISBN: 9780359927982

Paul Richardson

Paul Richardson owns and manages a small farm and vineyard in western Spain. He is also the author of Our Lady of the Sewers and Other Adventures in Deep Spain, Cornucopia: A Gastronomic Tour of Britain, Indulgence: One Man's Selfless Search for the Best Chocolate in the World, and Williams-Sonoma Barcelona.

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Table of Contents

Contents

Table of Contents

THE RED SHEEP

ZSynopsis

It Begins

The first bag full . . . .

Show and Tell

The Birthday Cake

Genealogy 101

Greenhouse Admissions

Machines with Screens

The Babysitter

Nine Nineteen

The Lid

Heaven

Daydreamer

Spare Parts

De Ja Loo

Abdullah

The Beanbag

The Detention Slip

Dorothy Tonlyn

Counselling

Hit and Stop

Nan’s Vortex

The Shoe Box

The second bag full . . .

Souvlaki Chicken

Phone Screen Images

The third bag . . .

Action - Reaction

Genealogy 103

Big Fat Lies

More Big Fat Lies

Changing Course

Explanations

Saturday

Sunday

After a Long Weekend

Nature Versus Nurture

Beyond the Grave

Genealogy 104

Paradise

Another Chapter

Genealogy 105

Lennie

THE RED SHEEP

Paul Richardson

Copyright © 2019 Paul Richardson.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means-whether auditory, graphic, mechanical or electronic – without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

This is a work of fiction. All the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

ISBN: 978-0-359-92798-2

Contact the author: [e-mail]

Synopsis

Jessica knew she was different to others in her family. She didn’t know why. She could never understand why her mother had not told her the truth. She didn’t know her mother was not sure of the truth. She knew some of the secret, but as it turned out, not the finer details.

As a child Jessica’s differences concerned her. As a teenager she demanded to know. As a young adult she found how complicated the answer would prove to be.

Jessica’s relationship with her grandparents, especially her Pop influenced her views of the world as she grew to adulthood. Throughout Jessica’s struggle with being an odd one out, her grandparents remained her rock. Pop was an atheist. Nan was a Christian. But their relationship endured their different theological views and their approaches to life, and death.

Jessica lived with her mother Allie and her stepfather Con. She was part of an ordinary family, who through heartfelt experiences, lived extraordinary lives. The interactions and relationships brought joy and tears as Jessica’s journey unfolded.

The Red Sheep is a love story on many levels. The book explores the power of relationships from various perspectives. It challenges people’s faiths, and it deals with death and dying through the eyes of a child. 

The story revolves around Jessica. It follows her journey as she too becomes an adult who must deal with the realities of her world.

Red Sheep Red Sheep

Have you got any wool?

Yes, I have!

I’ve got three,

but only two are full.

It Begins

THE LIGHT FLASHED from red to green. The W-shaped front of the old Ford reared. All eight cylinders beneath the glossy-blue hood responded to accelerator pressure and gobbled up the extra gasoline forced into them. The drive shaft took up the torque. The tires squealed on the bitumen.

The passenger beside him gasped. Without turning her stare from the line of traffic ahead, she said, Lennie, settle down!

The driver came back at her sharply, I won’t settle down. I’ve had to drive my pride and joy like I am a deranged person to try to get us there in time. I have already run about six red lights, overtaken cars in illegal places. Who knows what the fuel consumption will be?

You don’t have to drive like a crazy person, though, do you?

Well Nelly, what do you expect? We can’t have the baby pop out on the back seat!

But Lennie, the way you are driving you will get the baby killed before it is even born!

There was a moan. Nelly turned. With a calmness that contradicted the intensity of the calamity around her, she said, It is okay my Dear. Your father will get you to the hospital in good time. Don’t forget to breathe.

I am breathing! And the baby is pushing. Aagh! Hurry up Dad!

The driver gripped the steering wheel more tightly. He pushed at the accelerator harder, but it was already down as far as it would go. He said, Allie, I am going as fast as I can. Just hang on.

From beside him, Lennie, slow down!

From behind, Go faster Dad!

From him, Squeeze your knees together. Keep the little one inside, just for another five minutes!

From beside him, Oh Lennie, don’t be so ridiculous! If God wants the baby to come, it will come.

From him, I don’t care what God wants! I know our Allie doesn’t want to have her child in a car. Besides, will God pay for new seat covers?

From behind him, Oh. It’s coming! I can’t stop myself from pushing!

In the driver’s side-view mirror, he saw the flashing lights of a police motorcycle. The rider signaled for him to pull over.

Lennie sighed. He slowed and pulled in against the curb.

The Ford stopped.

As he wound down the window, the sound of a police siren filled the car.

The motorcycle pulled up alongside the window. Before the police officer could speak, Nelly leaned down and across the driver. She yelled, Sir, my daughter is about to give birth! She is in the late stages of labor. You have to let us get her to the hospital!

The policeman’s elbows pushed up. He crouched in his seat and peered into the car.

Lennie added, You’ve got to believe us. The young lady is about to drop a kid at any moment.

Behind Lennie, Allie screamed.

Allie groaned.

Allie screamed again.

The policeman sat upright. The lights on his motorcycle once again flashed red and blue. His ankle jerked as he selected a gear. The driver twisted the throttle. His white machine lifted on the spot. The bike leapt out toward the center of the road. An arm-motion beckoned Lennie to follow. The front of the Ford surged again as the huge sedan re-joined the stream of traffic.

Nelly said, See, God has brought us an angel in the form of a police officer. She turned and said over her shoulder, It won’t be long now darling.

Allie screamed.

Allied groaned.

Allie screamed again.

Lennie smiled. He said to Nelly. Never had a police escort before. Maybe you and your God thing might be right for once. He said over his shoulder. It truly is a special occasion, the birth of the second child for the Grant family. He added, Young Allie, your mother never got a special escort to the hospital when you were born.

Behind Lennie, Allie screamed.

Allie groaned.

Allie screamed again.

The first bag full . . . .

Welcome to Your World

LENNIE WAS CONFUSED. The child had been busting to be born when it was in his car. So why was it taking so long now they were at the hospital. Allie had asked for her mother to be present at the birth. Lennie sat alone in the waiting room. He was on edge.

While he waited, Lennie had shuffled through the magazines. He had made and drunk two cups of coffee. He had spoken at length to a nurse and used the bathroom twice. He tried to concentrate on the television gameshow above him, but he was restless.

Excited.

His own daughter had been a miracle. Now she was about to become a mother, and he was to be a grandfather. The miracle was about to be even greater. He and Nelly did not consider themselves overly successful parents. Becoming a grandparent may give him the chance to make amends.

Nelly came to the waiting room door. She looked exhausted, but her smile was coated with joy. Softly she said to Lennie, Well, would you like to come and meet your granddaughter?

Lennie’s eyes filled with tears.

Nelly turned. She knew her husband would follow.

Lennie’s tears flowed when he saw Allie. She was propped up by pillows. Her face was drained. Her hair was matted to her forehead, but her eyes beamed with the love of a mother. She held a bundle of blankets in her arms.

Lennie said to Allie, Hi Love. You look terrible. You been through the wringer or something?

Allie smiled. She loved her father. His teasing bonded them as a child and re-bonded them in recent months. She said, No wringer Dad, just this lump of a thing. She held out the bundle and said, Would you like to hold your granddaughter? Lennie looked at Nelly. He asked, Should I?

Nelly held back her own tears. For years, she had been without her daughter but with God’s grace she had her back. Now, Nelly had two beautiful girls to care for. She said to Lennie, Yes of course. After all there is a little piece of you in her.

Lennie caught his breath. He said, Poor kid.

Allie held out the baby. Lennie took it and pulled it into his chest.

Allie said, Pop, meet Jessica.

Lennie took up the baby voice he had not used for decades. He said, Aw. Hawo wittle Jessica. I am your Pop. You are a sweetie aren’t you.

Lennie pulled the shawl from the baby. He revealed a long white face and a head covered with thick and tangled tussles of hair. He looked at Nelly. Nelly shrugged. Lennie continued to smile. He rubbed the end of his finger down the smooth skin of the baby’s cheek. He said, A red head. We have never had a red head in the family before.

Nelly shrugged again. She asked Allie, So, now do you know who the father is?

Allie smiled as Lennie handed Jessica back. She pulled the baby in and nestled it against her chest.

She said, No.

She stared beyond her parents toward the glare of the doorway.

She mumbled, Not really. No.

Show and Tell

FENISHA WAS CONCERNED when she was first assigned to Room A1. It adjoined the school’s Administration building and therefore, the Principal’s office. The previous five years she had considered that room to be the one allocated to teachers who were under scrutiny. She and her colleagues always sighed with relief when annual room allocations were announced, and they had not been assigned to Room A1. They didn’t want to teach in the room next to the boss’s office.

Fenisha understood the room allocation had nothing to do with her performance. She had been assured of this by the principal following the announcement of teacher placements. However, she had been uneasy in the first few weeks of the school year. Miss Gabonnagi always seemed to ‘pop in’, as she put it, each time she passed by. To Fenisha it felt as if her principal was always passing by Room A1 and was always popping in. When Fenisha taught in Room D3 at the far corner of the school yard, she hardly ever saw Miss Gabonnagi, or her predecessor. It had been hard for principals to pop into her classroom when they needed to walk more than a hundred meters to get there. However, this year, visits from the principal were common. Also, now being within earshot of the Principal’s office, Fenisha was conscious of every time she raised her voice. Her location forced her to be more cautious about the way she taught.

Now, in Week 6 of term, she was used to the situation.

Fenisha was a good teacher. She knew it, and her principal constantly told her so. So, she had settled in Room A1 and had returned to what was a more natural approach to her teaching. She believed it was how she gave her students the best chance to succeed in her classes.

Despite the initial anxiety caused by its proximity, there were advantages to her new location. The room was close to the teacher’s common-room and more importantly, the hot water box she used to fill her coffee cup. At the sound of the End of Recess bell, other staff members immediately headed off to take up duty across the campus. Fenisha however, being right next door, always managed to find additional moments to make herself a fresh coffee before she left.

Once, she had been asked to present at a faculty meeting about the secret to her success as a teacher and how she had become such an effective classroom manager. While she had presented a slideshow assisted session full of ideas, anecdotes and jargon-laden quotes about pedagogy, child psychology and the need to differentiate teaching methodologies, she had been tempted to simply give out sachets of instant coffee and invite everyone to join her in the lunchroom. Deep down she knew her teaching skills to be the result of research combined with risk-taking but was equally committed to the notion it was coffee that kept her alert, responsive and level-headed in even the most arduous of lessons and with the most restless of classes.

This morning had been the same as most. At the bell, colleagues raced from the common room to get to their classes. Fenisha loaded her preferred level of instant coffee granules. She added sugar and creamer, placed the mug under the outlet and filled it with hot water. After it was stirred, she took the short walk to stand in front of her students. They waited quietly to enter Room A1. This, she realized early in the term, was an added dividend to teaching next to the Principal’s office.

As Fenisha stood at the head of two orderly lines, she didn’t speak. She turned and looked toward the open classroom door. She nodded, and the leaders entered, followed in systematic fashion by their classmates. Several of them said Morning Miss as they walked past. Fenisha blew across the liquid in the mug. When the last child in the line had passed by, she followed. Inside the room children busied themselves, all seemingly aware of what to do, where to go and how to prepare for the school day.

Fenisha walked to her table, released one side of her mug and took up a thin tablet computer. She tucked it in under her arm and resumed her two-handed coffee ritual. She negotiated her way through, managing to avoid contact with the ad hoc scramble of young people purposefully organizing themselves. On the other side of the classroom at the edge of a carpeted floor space, she crouched down into a student chair and placed the computer and her coffee cup on a desk. Near to her, children had gathered. Some held hands. Some talked and laughed. They all faced away from her. Their attention was on the boy who stood across the space near an easel. He seemed impatient. He was Rico. He was tall and thin. His blonde hair glistened through the product liberally applied that morning by his mother. She wanted to ensure her son was well-presented for his special role as chair of the class’s in-room assembly. It was obvious by Rico’s fidgeting he wanted his assembly to go well. Before all the children were settled, he called out and caught their attention, Hurry up everyone! I am ready to start.

Fenisha took a sip of her coffee. It was just as she liked it. The heat pushed the aroma into her nostrils. The warmth in her mouth was comforting, not too hot not too cold, like a well-drawn bath. She swallowed. In support of the anxious and agitated young person across the carpet square she said, Hurry on you last stragglers, Rico is ready to begin. She waited as three maroon shirts lowered their profile and, goanna like, slinked in between their classmates to meld with other maroon shirts on the carpet. Fenisha placed her coffee on the desk beside her and clapped her hands together, three times, purposefully, slowly. Immediately the children responded by mimicking her actions. Three slow claps. The first was a concertina of palm slaps, the second was tighter. By the third, every hand was in unison. They made a single sound that resonated around the room. Perhaps, seemingly miraculous to an outside observer, but obviously expected by the teacher, as one, the children placed their hands on the floor, straightened their backs and raised the profile of the group. All of them looked directly at Rico. The interval of silence in the room was broken when Fenisha said quietly, but with authority, Rico, we are ready. You may begin.

Rico cleared his throat. He shuffled his feet and tentatively commenced the assembly. Good morning class.

Good morning Rico.

Welcome to this morning’s in-room assembly. Rico cleared his throat again and with growing confidence outlined the agenda he wanted followed.

Our first presenter this morning is Hassah with the weather report. Benjamin will tell us all about the news. Lindell is on jokes and last up today we will have a Show and Tell time. Miss Reinhardt will finish the assembly by reading the next chapter of our shared reading book. Don’t forget you cannot do a Show and Tell unless you show or tell us something that is interesting for everyone in the class and will help us with our ongoing learning journey.

Children whispered, making comments about the information they had been given. Rico allowed the conversation to bubble. He was used to this type of classroom interaction. The teacher always encouraged the students to share their thoughts with a talk-partner during her lessons, so he was at ease with the pause in proceedings. However, in his eagerness to chair the assembly and because of his ambition to chair it well, he soon brought the collective murmurs of his classmates to a halt. He called out, Quiet everyone! It is time to start the assembly!

His audience complied. Hassah was invited to the front of the room. She told the class that by the end of the week they would all need to bring a raincoat because they were sure to experience some wet weather. Benjamin followed Hassah and shared what he considered to be the day’s most important news stories. His favorite news item was the announcement of a pending pay rise for teachers and, at the risk of embellishing the facts, declared Miss Reinhardt would soon be very rich and with her extra money, may be able to upgrade the standard of prizes in the Good Behavior Lucky-Dip box. Fenisha accepted the spirit of Benjamin’s jibe and, feigning offence, declared she would need to go and visit the Principal to seek permission to upgrade the math curriculum so she could teach her class about percentages.

She also responded to Benjamin mockingly, Master Benjamin, if we did learn about percentages at the fourth-grade level, you would soon realize the small percentage increase in my salary, when I eventually receive it, will not amount to much and definitely will not allow me to supersize the prizes in the Lucky-Dip box! Most of the children had twisted and now looked at their teacher.

Benjamin, still in good spirit, said, Aw Miss! That is not fair.

The children turned back to the presenter. Benjamin scanned his notes and said, My news report reads, he read like a he was the announcer for a promotional voice-over, SUPER PAY RISE FOR LOCAL TEACHERS! He explained, So, if it is a super pay rise it must be very good. You will be rich Miss. The children all turned back and awaited their teacher’s response.

Fenisha didn’t disappoint. She shook her head slowly and said, Percentages help to explain that something is a part of something else. The word Percent means the parts are measured to be out of one hundred. If you have a large percent maybe like ninety-five, then you have a very large part. If, like me, you only get one or two percent, then it is a small part of something and, in my case, it is a very small part of something.

Benjamin countered her, Not if your one hundred is a big one hundred.

Rico intervened, not wanting the class to forget he was the chairperson, Ben you cannot get a big or a small one hundred. One hundred is one hundred no matter how big or small it is.

Fenisha said, Rico. Thank you for trying to clarify this matter. You are mathematically correct, but I think Benjamin is talking about the realities of life and so, for his benefit and despite his headlines, I am a teacher. My one hundred is one of the small one-hundreds. So, my one or two percent of my small one hundred is very small indeed.

Some of the children were confused. Benjamin wasn’t. He was reveling in the banter. Rico was agitated. The news segment had already run overtime, and this may reflect badly on his overall performance as the chairperson. Regardless, Benjamin continued, Not even a toy car, some football cards, or an eraser tip pencils?

Fenisha said, I will tell you this. Let’s forget about how much money I get, or don’t get, being a teacher and, by the way, thank you Benjamin for reminding me how little it really is. I will upgrade the prizes in the Lucky-Dip box if you all work harder to earn them.

Children nodded. Benjamin smiled, proud of his achievement.

A boy to Fenisha’s left, toward the front of the group, raised his arm, looked at his teacher and asked, Even some toy cars? Fenisha smiled.

The children loved Fenisha’s smile. She was stocky in stature. Her fair skin often flushed to pink if she was agitated or expected more from her students, but when she smiled, her soft cheeks expanded, and her eyes lit up to highlight the shine in the waves of her short dark hair. Fenisha was thirty-three and single, but she exuded a motherliness which struck at every child she taught. She often told the children’s parents she would chastise her students if she felt they needed a reprimand but would always cuddle them when she felt she could. It was this consistency that had made her one of the most respected teachers at the school. The children always accepted her mumbling and grumbling if it was fair and reasonable, but they relished the warmth in her smile. It meant she approved of their efforts and actions. They felt, through her smile, she was connecting with them and this made them feel they were a part of her team. She said, Yes, even toy cars, but they won’t be Ferraris or BMWs.

A girl stood up. Her ginger hair was tied up in a knot at the top of her head. She looked like she was experiencing a growth surge. Her arms and legs seemed too long for her body. Maybe it was the progressive shortening of her pleated maroon skirt, but she looked to be slightly out of proportion. Even in the few weeks this year’s class, Fenisha had noticed Jessica had grown several centimeters and was now much taller than her peers. Also, the freckles on her cheeks and forearms had developed dramatically. They accentuated the whiteness of her skin.

Nonetheless, Jessica was a confident girl. Fenisha often referred to her as the philosopher of the class. Jessica thought deeply about all kinds of issues, and many times would ask questions or make comments about them well after the discussions had finished and the class had moved onto the next topic. Thoughtfully, as usual, Jessica asked, Any chance of additional girls’ items too? It is not only the boys who get to choose from the Lucky-Dip Box. In fact, I would estimate on average, the girls visit the box far more than the boys.

Yes Jessica of course. It would not be fair if we only had boys’ toys in the Lucky-Dip box.

Jessica nodded her approval. She bent her knees and squatted back to be among the children on the floor.

Rico had reached his tipping point. May we please continue with the assembly? The group’s attention refocused on Rico. He said, Thank you Benjamin for your news. It has created quite a lot of discussion. Congratulations Miss Reinhardt on your pay rise and thank you for your promise to upgrade the lucky-dips.

Fenisha intervened, Ah but the deal was that everyone lifts their game and works hard to earn the upgrades.

Rico was dismissive, Of course we will Miss. He returned to his agenda. Now it is time for today’s jokes. Lindell, please come to the front.

Lindell told three jokes. The first earned a collective groan. The second attracted claims it was an old one and had been told by Jude last week. The third one took her a long time to tell because she repeatedly laughed before she went to deliver the punch line. When she finally managed to share the ending, which included references to untimely episodes of flatulence, it was received with raucous laughter, especially by the boys.

Rico called for the group to settle and announced it was time for Show and Tell. During the Show and Tell session Fenisha always managed to finish her coffee and enter the daily student attendances to a central data base via her tablet. Like every other day she listened in as she worked.

The presenters offered the usual repertoire of self-indulgent information. Rami talked about the hot curry his mother had prepared. He had to be cut short by Fenisha before he fully disclosed the outcome