Josie pulled the doona over her shoulders and began to whisper.
‘Hello God, it’s me again. Sorry I haven’t done much praying but you know, life got in the way. I think it’s been fifty years since we had a chat. You’re a busy man I know but I don’t bother you much so reckon you owe me some help this time.’
‘That’s a bit rude,’ said her conscience and, ‘let’s be honest asking for boobs at fifteen is not something you should expect God to fix. Remember your mother; she wasn’t exactly overflowing in that department.’
Josie closed her eyes, and listened to her husband’s laboured breathing. She tried another tack.
‘Look God, asking for a husband at twenty-five, a house and two kids at twenty-eight was probably a lot to ask but you came up with the goods. Even if the house was a bit of a dump and the kids drove me nuts. As for my Fred, you did well there. He’s a good man. But now I’m desperate for one more favour.’
‘Always something else. Never satisfied are you? What are you going to give God in return eh?’ her conscience demanded.
Josie thought for a long time. Tears spilled down her cheeks and she sniffed loudly.
‘OK God, I will try and go to church every Sunday and I won’t swear at the kids down the street that throw their fag ends in my garden. Just make Fred better. He is in so much pain. Take a look in his eyes, you can see it. Go on, take him now. I will give him to you.’
Fred and her conscience were silent.