You Gotta Have Faith

By Sheila Deal

This is a story of a boy and his struggle on how he survived the sadness and his illness. Will his faith save him?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Oct 31, 2016
• ISBN: 9781503509696

Sheila Deal

Born in wet, windy, waterlogged , Willington Quay in the North East of England. Now lives in the wonderfully, warm, wild , North East of Queensland, Australia. Very proud mother of three children, & even prouder Nana to four fabulous grandsons & Always grateful to their Gorgeous Mums. Sheila loves reading, especially 3D Kindles. (Books) Travel & The Theatre. Lives with her very patient & most understanding husband Rob. Not forgetting Cruiser & Max, dogs of distinctly dotty demeanours.

Book preview

Copyright © 2015 by Sheila Deal. 633664

ISBN:

Softcover 978-1-5035-0970-2

EBook 978-1-5035-0969-6

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Rev. date: 06/28/2016

Xlibris

1-800-455-039

www.xlibris.com.au

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

Where It All Begins

CHAPTER TWO

The Worst Week

CHAPTER THREE

A Rather Strange Awakening

CHAPTER FOUR

Christmas With A Difference

CHAPTER FIVE

Meanwhile Back Home

CHAPTER SIX

Tying Up The Loose Ends

for

Joseph Anthony Cocallis

(My Angel)

CHAPTER ONE

Where It All Begins

I t was raining and Paul Stubbs was crying. Now before you get the idea that Paul was a touch soft, he actually had a very good reason to be crying. You see his Grandad had recently died and today had been the day of his funeral. Paul had never been to a funeral before and he’d hated it. To him it all felt so very wrong. They stood there at the church, Paul, his Dad ‘Big’ Paul or ‘BP’ as he was called, for clarity now that Paul was getting older. His Mum Carol, sniffing into paper tissues, pale and quiet. (Well for her anyway) Kylie, his elder sister. Trying to text surreptitiously as she’d been told that she couldn’t play on her mobile today at all. And little Sammy, his younger sister who really didn’t understand what was going on. She knew it all had something to do with Grandad, but he wasn’t there. She’d looked and looked into the crowd of grown-up people there, all wandering around dressed in black. But she couldn’t see him anywhere. Just a big wooden box with his photograph on it at the front of the little chapel. She’d asked so many times where Granda was and been so studiously ignored that now she was quiet, as no-one seemed to want to tell her anyhow. They had all stood outside the church after what Carol called ‘A very nice service’. Wearing new, still creased from the packaging shirts. Kylie and Carol in what Kylie called ‘LBD’s, whatever that was. Paul really didn’t want or care to know. The grown ups shaking hands and kissing cheeks. Paul had felt as if his hand had been wrung out by the men and his cheeks were still smarting from the pinches of what his Mum called, ‘Canny Grannies’. But now that part of the day was all over it was time for the ‘Ham tea’. The ‘ham tea’ turned out to be a sort of peculiar party at Paul’s house. The grown ups drank tea, beer and whiskey in equal quantities, and ate dainty little sandwiches, while the ‘children’ were left to their own devices. Which for them meant Paul going to his room to cry. He really hadn’t wanted to do this in front of anyone. Kylie going to her room to text her friends, sneek a peek at face book, and day dream about when she’d be ‘discovered’ on one dubious talent show or another. And Sammy, Sammy went to the garden to make mud-pies, just in case the sandwiches ran out.

Paul was thinking about the last time he’d seen his granddad. That was the really unfair thing about this, it was all so sudden. That last weekend, less than ten days ago, they’d talked, played chess, and cards, Paul winning of course. Although sometimes Paul had a sneaky suspicion that his granda let him win. They told each other stupid jokes and laughed, while they ‘worked’ in the garden, pulling out the weeds that dared to invade the vegetable patch. Not that there was ever too many of them. Everything had been just fine. Then the next day he was dead, gone forever, never coming back. His heart, everyone said. Paul wondered how a heart can just stop. How could it just stop, never to beat again. He’d loved his Grandad, he knew that he still did, and always would. He’d been more like a best friend really. Paul knew he’d been able to go to him and tell him anything and he’d help. Like that time he’d broken a model car of his Dad’s. His Dad collected model cars, really nice ones, ones from Films and Television programmes. Although Paul had never seen the most of the actual programmes, he did like the cars. A three wheeled yellow van, a Reliant. A mini, green with a black bonnet. A red, American ‘muscle’ car, complete with a painted flag on the roof, called the General Lee. Paul had been ‘looking’ at them when the Jaguar cat from the dark red Jaguar car bonnet broke off in his hands. Paul still remembered his panic knowing full well that BP would now disembowel him and nail him to the nearest wall. He’d ran all the way to his Grandad’s house, nearly blindly, car and cat in hand. All he could focus on was getting there and Grandad making it all right. Which of course he did, and he easily did. Paul didn’t get wrong at all. In fact after that, BP even allowed Paul to touch the cars but only if he was there with him.

Paul recalled many trips to his Grandad’s. Especially on the weekends as Kylie made his Mum take her for ‘coffees’ and dress shopping. Kylie thought that going for coffee was just so grown up. On Mondays at school she’d brag about it to her friends, regaling them with tales of double shots and lattes. However everything has it’s price and Carol made Kylie pay by dragging onto her ABC tours, another bloody church, another bloody castle, another bloody Cathedral. Carol loved old buildings as some adults do. She’d spend hours gazing at the ‘architecture’. She’d stand ages in front of a stained glass window, just looking. This drove Kylie to distraction but she’d suffer anything for the pleasure of sitting in a coffee shop window, where hopefully someone would both see and discover her.

Paul though, had went to his Grandads. They’d done all sorts of boy things together. Watched old Cowboy, old war movies, made things with wood, he’d been allowed to use tools, real ones. They’d talked and laughed and never once really ran out of things to say to each other. But on those rare occaisions where they had. They sat, together in an easy, comfortable silence where words didn’t matter anyway. Grandad had told Paul