Winter of Grace by Kate Constable Page A

bunny.’
    â€˜Okay,’ I said slowly. ‘When you put it like that, it does sound … unlikely. But what about what Pastor Matt said today, the message of Jesus? Love one another. That’s pretty radical. If everyone lived by that, it would change the world. No more wars, no more poverty. Maybe you don’t need to get into the whole rose-from-the-dead, died-for-our-sins bit.’
    Stella leaned out to see if the train was coming. ‘That’s another thing I don’t get. Jesus died for our sins, what does that mean ?’
    â€˜He died so we could have eternal life, isn’t that what Pastor Matt said?’
    â€˜But if God loves us so much, why not just give us eternal life? What’s the point of killing Jesus?’ Stella shook her head. ‘I tell you what, if I was Jesus, I’d be way mad with my dad.’
    I laughed, though I felt a bit guilty. I was pretty sure the gang at Northside wouldn’t think it was funny.
    â€˜Oh, well,’ said Stella, as the train finally roared into the station. ‘When you go to youth group , you can ask them all about it.’

THE KINCAIDS’ HOUSE was mayhem as usual. Scarlet was playing the flute to Nana, Tark was watching cartoons, Paul lumbered up and down the hallway booming into the phone, while Mish whirled about the kitchen in the corner of the big room, preparing lunch.
    â€˜Stella, could you be an angel and make a salad? Bridie, is there milk in the fridge?’
    I had a peek. ‘Nup.’
    â€˜Damn – Paul! When you’re finished – bread and milk.’
    Paul nodded; he raised his hand, grinned at me and said into the phone, ‘I understand that, mate, but the point is …’
    â€˜Should I go?’ I offered, but Mish shook her head.
    â€˜Sit there and talk to me. Use the other tomatoes, Stella, don’t waste them.’
    â€˜But they’re yucky,’ said Stella.
    â€˜They’re all right. Cut the bad bits out.’
    â€˜I’m going!’ yelled Paul, and the door banged behind him.
    â€˜Mish tells me you’ve been at church,’ said Nana Kincaid, who’d escaped from Scarlet and pulled out a chair at the dining table.
    â€˜It was boring.’ Stella chopped tomatoes. ‘I hate church.’
    â€˜Stella!’
    â€˜Well, I do.’
    Nana shook her head. ‘Show some respect. Priests and nuns give up so much to do God’s work.’
    â€˜They chose it, no one asked them to.’
    â€˜ God asked them to,’ said Nana. ‘And don’t you roll your eyes at me.’
    I started to lay the table, listening to them argue. Mish caught my eye and we exchanged a smile.
    â€˜Nana, the church is so sexist ! Why is God called Him? Why shouldn’t God be female? Why can’t women be priests?’
    â€˜Because Jesus was a man.’
    â€˜Why does a priest need a penis, he’s not even allowed to use it!’
    â€˜ Stella! ’ But Nana Kincaid couldn’t help smiling.
    Stella scraped the tomatoes into a salad bowl. ‘There aren’t enough priests to go round. They’re all old and doddery, and the church still won’t let women do it. It’s cutting out fifty per cent of the human race; it’s saying women aren’t capable . That’s a terrible message to send to girls.’
    â€˜Mother Teresa was a woman. The Blessed Virgin Mary was a woman.’
    â€˜So we’re allowed to be saints? We’re allowed to be virgins? But that’s all?’
    â€˜Of course not, you can be a wife and a mother and—’
    â€˜Nana! I want more out of my life than that .’
    Mish made an indistinct sound, half laugh, half snort, and quickly smothered it.
    â€˜Women are different,’ said Nana comfortably. ‘You’ll understand when you’re older.’
    Stella gave up on the salad and faced her grandmother with her hands on her hips, knife still clenched in her fist.