A TANGLE OF LIGHT 

By Tessa Harvey


    Gently he wrapped his strong arm around her shoulder and guided her through the screen door into the warmth of their tiny lounge room.
    "Not a woman, no," Saxon smiled, "a great man! A preacher!"
"But you hate preachers!" Often Saxon had told her of the day a minister came to see the family. Saxon had been eight years old. The little boy's eyes had lit up - someone to kick a soccer ball around with, a new dad maybe. His mum said the other one had gone "visiting."    
    But the preacher man had taken one look at the tall grassy unkempt yard, at the old nan trying to make a garden and said: "my word, your nan needs help - a lot of help!"
    His car reversed swiftly and he was gone.
    Day after day Saxon watched and waited, a little boy's hope and fate hanging in the balance. Then one day, there was one piece of bread left. The new twins were crying. His big sister was hungry, but she looked at her little brother, toasted the last piece of bread, meticulously cut it in half and shared.
    And then they crossed the busy road by themselves, holding hands to school. The next day they were both in different care homes, both in abusive situations, not oases of love and hope.

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