After the noise of the street, the silence of the church was deafening, Richard thought. As he stood on the threshold, he considered briefly the chill and that vacuous silence, and how it lent sincerity and sanctity. Richard took a step off the prickly mat and listened to how the hard leather sole rang out against the tiled floor. He took another, and then another until the silence was filled with his ringing footfalls and he was stood before the alter.

He looked up, over the golden chalices and candle stick holders, past the stone depictions of St Paul, St Mary and the others, to the rosary window. He gazed at it, his eye moving along the leadened lines, picking out the detail of each scene. As he gazed, outside the sun came out, sending spots of colour dancing across the floor, the alter steps and Richard. In reverence for the spectacle he knelt, and as he did so, the sun shone brighter, sending the yellow halo of Christ to rest upon Richard’s own brow.

Richard sighed. He’d asked for a sign, and a sign he had received.

☮&♥