St Agatha’s Church in Kingston-upon-Thames was our base. All our boys were born at Kingston Hospital, not far from there. I remember vividly taking the boys with us to hear mass at St. Agatha’s over the next five years. We often went for long walks in Richmond Park which had an entrance very near to the church.
The church was very classical in style with various small side alcoves dedicated to different saints. One of these was the chapel of St. Joseph which was a favourite place for Ursula to pop into as she had a special devotion to him.
We were now existing on a government grant while I was at university and two more children had come along. Nonetheless, those were very happy days and somehow, we always managed without much worry. St. Joseph, it seems, had a hand in this. When Ursula had a need for specific things, especially baby clothes etc., she would go to the side altar where St. Joseph’s picture was hanging and, after looking at it for a while, and seeing the lovely closeness between him and the young Jesus in his arms, ask him to kiss the baby Jesus for her and then simply list the things she needed without even asking for them. Every time, somehow or other, the items would turn up.
One day however, as she was there, she suddenly remembered it was my birthday and she had bought nothing for me. She knew I had a special liking for a certain style of shirt, but these were rather expensive and she neither had the money or knew of a place nearby to buy it. She told St. Joseph that it was needed and added it to the list. She also pointed out exactly what she had to spend on it. It could not be a penny more.
When she went outside the church, she asked someone where the nearest clothes shops were. This was a suburban, residential area and the town was a 30-minute walk away. They told her that there was a secondhand shop just 50 meters up the hill but they only sold children and baby clothes. Ursula told me later that she felt what seemed to be a command telling her to go to the shop and she would find what she needed.
She went in, pushing the baby pram in front of her, and asked “Do you have any men’s shirts?” As predicted, the salesgirl said, “we only sell children’s clothes,” then paused. “Wait a minute,” she said, “someone brought in a man’s shirt yesterday. She said it was the wrong size and she donated it in case we could sell it.” She went and got the shirt. It was blue pin-striped with a white collar, just the type I liked and the perfect size and fit for me. To top it off, the price was exactly what Ursula had mentioned in the chapel. Thanks for the birthday present St. Joseph!