THE JOURNEY 

By Tessa Harvey

    The boy was waiting outside, shifting impatiently from one foot to the other.
    "Please come," he said at once without preamble, "someone is very sick. You are needed, miss."
    I recognised him as the youth who worked for the greengrocer, about fourteen or fifteen years old, small and dark-skinned. Usually he was busy, filling up produce as people took potatoes or other fruit and vegetables to buy, or organising shelves. I had never heard him speak before, though he appeared hard working and efficient.
    He glanced at my feet. "You need stronger shoes." His tone was peremptory and I felt a little affronted. I think I had become too used to regarding myself as a person of importance to the community. Still, I hastily changed my shoes and stumbled after the boy, beginning to sense his urgency.
    Why did they need me now? I wondered, after weeks of seemingly minor tasks. Alice did not know what lay ahead.

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