Free Goose by Dawn O'Porter Page B

about it a lot.
    When Pop died and I went to his funeral I thought about every word the vicar said. Pop spent his life grumbling about religion and how ‘Holy Willies’ were ‘lunatics’, but there he was being cremated in a church with a vicar saying he was off to be with God in heaven. Pop didn’t even believe in heaven, so it all felt so insincere. I was very comfortable with the fact that Pop had gone and that was that. He was too – he told me that loads of times when he was dying. He didn’t believe in heaven and didn’t want to go there, even if there was a chance that he might see Mum when he got there, or that Nana would be up soon. His life was lived, it was time to say goodbye, he didn’t want to carry on. I think the way religious people obsess about getting into heaven is just a romantic way of dealing with their fear of death. Who cares about what happens when we die? I say we should just focus on the life we live right now. If I go to heaven, bonus. If I don’t, then I will have made the most of my time on earth. Religion just doesn’t make sense to me. And like I said, I have thought about it a lot.
    How can God be real when he allows people’s mums and dads to die too young? When he makes people sick and tortures people? I see all of those children in Africa who are starving and covered in flies, and they die, all the time. If the bad stuff is the work of the devil, then the devil is winning and God’s doing a really bad job. If God is real then I don’t want anything to do with him – he doesn’t seem like a very nice person. Constantly feeling like he has to prove to people that he is boss, always teaching people life lessons that are really no more than cruel abuses of his power. And what is he anyway? Is he the clouds? The stars? Is he the wind? Or is he an old man with a stick who watches over us? And why is He a he? I think children were once told a story about an old man in the sky and they believed it, like they did about Father Christmas. But it was so long before anyone worked out that this person doesn’t really exist, so adults, not just children, believed these ridiculous stories, and then it was too late – it was embedded into human existence.
    I need to distract Flo. As her best friend I have a duty to keep her mind off the things that upset her. I need to step up the fun, be naughty, keep life exciting. Remind her how far we have come in the last two years, really make her laugh. I go downstairs and get the phone book. I go straight to R.
    Richardson. M
    That must be them. I am sure Flo called Matt’s mum Mary. I dial the number.
    â€˜Hello? Mary Richardson speaking.’
    Bingo!
    Flo
    â€˜Sorry about that,’ I say to everyone as I come back in. ‘Renée wants to meet me later.’ Everyone smiles kindly like it doesn’t matter. No one seems to think it’s weird that she called me at Matt’s house. But I suppose their focus is on other things.
    â€˜Carry on, Gordon,’ says Sandra.
    He gathers his thoughts and continues with what he was saying.
    â€˜Esau knew that to have the grace of God, he must forgive Jacob. So he did. God forgives those who trespass against evil, and to have his grace, we must do the same.’
    Gordon is leading the group this week. Actually, he always leads the group. Not just because he is the oldest, but because he is obviously the most religious out of all of us. He knows every inch of the Bible and he is really good at making sense of it all. Today he is talking about forgiveness. I sit back down on the floor and try to get back into what he is saying, but Kerry interrupts.
    â€˜Does Renée believe?’ she asks me.
    They all, including Gordon, wait for my answer.
    â€˜She believes we’re all mental,’ I tell them and they laugh. This is nothing new to them.
    â€˜That’s why I keep it quiet at school,’ says Matt. ‘I like