She sees the first dandelion, and knows she has a tryst to keep.
The fare takes up most of her pocket money, but after two buses she arrives at the church, her bunch of dandelions clutched tightly in her hand. The church is deserted; the vicar, attending to the shrubbery outside his door, gives her a nod and a smile as she walks in, and she smiles back cheerfully.
The flowers in front of the altar have been arranged with loving care, and Lucy does not disturb them from the front. But, gently, she tucks her little bouquet of Aslan's flowers into the back of the biggest vase, on the side nearest the altar, under the eyes of the stained-glass lion in the window.
She prays for a minute or two, and leaves the church with a light heart. She knows He loves to see the dandelions.
