Heaven

Gathering her tweed-blanket poncho closely around her, Miss Evans stepped cautiously from the bus onto the icy pavement. Not for the first time, she thought about where she was going, and what she was about to do, and yet another fit of the giggles threatened to topple her into a snow-covered hedge.

She'd been to visit Timmy's parents on a number of occasions, but by the time she reached their house, she was convinced it had somehow moved at least twice as far from the bus-stop as it had previously been.

Always pleased to see their son's teacher, the Gordons had been mystified by Miss Evans' phone call, and were eager to discover what could have drawn her out on such a cold afternoon.

'I came because of this,' she explained, somewhat hesitantly handing over what was clearly a painting, on an A4 sheet. 'What do you think?'

Timmy's parents were now even more bemused. As paintings by eight-year-olds went, it wasn't the worst they'd ever seen, but the subject matter was certainly strange.

'I think Timmy's hearing might need checking,' Miss Evans continued, with a smile. 'I asked the children to paint me a picture of heaven, with all the little cherubims playing their harps ...' She laughed aloud now, as light started to dawn on the Gordon's faces. 'Tell me,' she asked, 'Have you by any chance, ever kept terrapins?'

[Vue 6 Esprit + Photoimpression]