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so strange!’

      ‘I know it sounds unbelievable now,’ he explains, slowly, ‘but your mind will adapt. Lots of amputees say they just learn to ignore their phantoms.’

      I find it hard to believe that I will ever be able to ignore the ghost of my leg and then I remember with a rush of relief that I won’t have to, once the second miracle works.

      ‘God is going to heal me, Mr Peach,’ I say seriously. He looks at me cautiously.

      ‘Mary, it will take time to adjust to losing your leg. It’s a bit like losing somebody you love. You will need time to grieve.’

      I laugh nonchalantly and say, ‘Okay, Mr Peach.’ Inside I know he will be amazed at what will happen. I can’t wait to see his face when my leg has grown back. I decide not to tell him because I don’t think he believes in God. It will be great, though, when he is converted by the miracle. How pleased the God Squad will be, too.

      He goes on to explain what will happen next.

      ‘The operation is over, Mary, but there is a lot of work to be done now. We need to get you up and about, so we have to start some physiotherapy to help you learn to balance and strengthen your muscles. First of all, we need to get you sitting upright again.’

      ‘Well, that’s not difficult is it?’ I ask him curiously.

      I have been lying flat on my back for two weeks now and I can’t wait to sit up again. This view of the ceiling is getting dull!

      ‘Let’s try, then, shall we?’ He laughs and his strong arms lift me off the pillow for a few seconds so I am sitting upright. The room begins to lurch crazily and my head is in a spin.

      ‘Help!’ I cry. ‘Put me down!’

      ‘Your body has to learn to walk and balance all over again.’

      ‘It’s like being on a ship! How long will it be like this?’

      ‘We will sit you up a little bit each day, beginning tomorrow, and then maybe by the end of the week we can get you out into a chair.’

      I sink back on my soft pillows, exhausted. He turns to the nurse and issues further instructions.

      ‘Drip and catheter out tomorrow, Sister.’ He waves to me and is gone.

      I replay the conversation. ‘I must not doubt,’ I think to myself. ‘God will give me back my leg so I won’t need stupid physiotherapy.’ I close my eyes and return to my little fantasy world.

      Some time later I open my eyes and see Hellie sitting beside me. Because of the pain and the anaesthetic, I have not been able to talk to her since the operation. She is dressed in her school uniform and I remember it is the first day of a new term. Her eyes are bright with unshed tears.

      ‘Hello, Big Sis,’ and she gives me a hug. It feels so good to be held close to a warm, healthy body. ‘I’ve missed you.’

      ‘I missed you, too.’

      ‘I love you, Mary.’

      ‘I love you, too.’ We hug again and laugh. We hug so much, she knocks the cupboard by the side of the bed. There is a huge crash and water, flowers and glass end up all over the floor. We look at each other, Hellie and I, our eyes wide with alarm. Time is frozen, for so much is broken. I cannot decide if I should laugh or cry and I check out my sister’s reaction.

      ‘Whoops!’ she says slowly. We laugh until we cry, the tears rolling down our cheeks, and a nurse comes in to tell Hellie off.

      ‘I am so glad to see you at last,’ Hellie says. ‘You don’t know what it’s been like!’

      ‘Tell me, I want to know.’

      She looks at me and rolls her eyes. ‘Everyone has been upset and crying.’

      ‘When did you find out about my leg?’ I ask her.

      ‘Thursday night. Mr Peach came to see Mum and Dad and they spent ages talking. I heard Mum crying. Then, when he left, Mum and Dad told Martin and me. Adrian doesn’t know yet – he’s away on holiday, remember? He comes back tomorrow.’

      ‘What about Franny?’ I ask, recalling that she is away at college.

      ‘Pastor Tony told Franny. She’s coming to see you this weekend. Tony has been really fantastic, ringing Mum and Dad every day. Of course, everybody is praying at church and the priests are helping Mum and Dad. They are clinging on to their faith.’

      ‘Hellie, does Martyn know yet?’ I have been thinking about him a lot and wondering who told him. He will feel guilty, I know.

      She looks at me hesitantly. ‘No-one told him. He found out in assembly this morning. Mr McCarthy announced about your illness. Martyn walked out of the hall.’

      ‘Oh no!’ I feel a pang of pain and compassion for him and, looking away, I fight back more tears.

      ‘Anyway, I’m here to cheer you up,’ she says briskly, handing me a tiny package.

      ‘What’s this for?’

      ‘It’s from the folk group, the God Squad, everyone – go on, open it.’

      I open the neatly wrapped package to find a gold bracelet and pretty tins of make-up. I look for a few seconds, bewildered, not knowing what to do next.

      ‘Right, my girl, time to do your make-up! You are going to look great when I’ve finished with you!’ She works silently on my face and hair for a few minutes, then sits back and looks at me.

      ‘You look gorgeous, you know,’ she says to me. ‘I’m being serious. You kind of have this inner peace. It shines through your eyes.’

      ‘But I feel so ugly, Hellie,’ I confess softly. ‘My body feels … damaged, mutilated.’

      Her eyes hold mine and she is angry. ‘No, Mary! You mustn’t say that, ever! You are not ugly, do you hear me? You have to believe me! It doesn’t matter that you don’t have your leg. You are still beautiful. You are just different!’

      ‘But I hate being different. I don’t want to be different.’

      ‘Okay then, you are special.’

      ‘I don’t want to be special. I want to be ordinary.’

      She holds up the mirror for me, exasperated. I have not looked in a mirror for several days. I close my eyes.

      ‘Open your eyes, Mary. Look! I haven’t done your make-up for nothing.’

      I do as I am told. I am stunned. My face is the same – oval, freckled, just a little thinner. My eyes are the same clear blue. Nothing has changed. Except my leg and, with it, my life.

      ‘Okay, Miss Beautiful,’ she jokes. ‘I hope those Ward Six boys come to visit you, especially the good-looking one! Barry, is it?’ I had mentioned my new friends while Hellie worked.

      I blush and she laughs as she leaves the room, waving goodbye and promising to visit me every day.

      The room is unbearably quiet afterwards. Is it possible that I can still be considered beautiful after what has been done to me? I cannot see how anyone will ever be able to look at me and love me again. I do not feel whole any more. I have always been strong and healthy. I am the one who wins the athletics races and makes the sports teams. I love to dance and turn cartwheels. Now all I can do is lie in a bed. I think about so many problems in the future – how can I possibly learn to walk if I cannot even sit up unaided?

      I try to sleep but I am burdened with a heavy heart. Thoughts of easier days go round and round. I imagine myself running down mountains and leaping through rivers. I feel trapped inside a useless body. The phantom pains remind me again and again of a lifetime to come – however brief it might be – of pain and loss. My fear escalates and I begin to panic. I ring the nurses’ bell and a worried staff nurse appears. ‘What’s wrong, Mary?’ she asks.

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