Francis Gay

KATHY’S dad had been a strong figure. So, when she left home as a bride it was no great leap to do everything her husband told her. Sadly, he was an insecure man who told her the world was a dangerous place, people were hateful, and he was her only protection.

The decades passed, and she barely left the house, until, in her 70s, she left him. I met her at the community centre to help her take food from the food bank to her new home and I expected her to be sad. Instead, she told me of the hostel staff who had helped her, the ladies of the “knit and natter” group she had joined, the strangers who had provided her with furniture, neighbours who had been popping in…

Then she said the words that broke my heart, and made me want to shout Hallelujah: “All this time… I never knew people were kind.” JANIE calls her husband “sweet-pea” – even though he’s a big bear of a man. Eventually, I just had to ask.

It seems he is a very busy man. There’s his own work and family commitments, then there is everything he does for everyone else.

“I used to wonder how he managed to give so much to other people and still have anything left,” Janie told me.

“But then my neighbour gave me some of her sweet-peas. I suggested she hadn’t left herself many and she reassured me that the more she picked and gave away, the more that would grow.”

It seems her hubby works on the same principle – the more he gives to others, the more he has to give.

Couldn’t the world do with more sweet-pea hearts?