Friendship's Bond Read Online Free PDF Page A

been intending to board ship at the sea terminal only to be swept along with her in a different direction.
    Ann poured hot milk into the cup and stirred the creamy brown contents. She had often hoped he would say, but tonight as so many times before she would not ask.
     
    ‘Our brave men are fighting, God bless them, are suffering grievous injuries, many of them giving their very lives to keep this country free, to ensure their loved ones can sleep safely in their beds. How many of you have known the heartbreak of that ultimate sacrifice?’
    Thomas Thorpe paused, his face creasing with sympathetic pain at the broken sobs of women, the shuffling of the few men, the old, the repatriated or those who for whatever reason had been deemed ineligible for combat in this conflict with Germany; a war now involving so many countries it was fast being described as a world war. The men cleared their throats, swallowing tears the pride of manhood forbade them to shed. But the tears he wanted to see would not be shed in this chapel, although that did not mean the cause of them would not originate here. Beneath the veneer of compassion the need for revenge dripped its venom. Ann Spencer and Leah Marshall both would regret crossing Thomas Thorpe; the sorrow they would feel would long outlast any war.
    He surveyed the seated congregation, allowing his voice to throb with subdued emotion.
    ‘How many mothers will never again hold a son in their arms, know the pleasure of his kiss against their cheek? How many fathers will never again shake the hand of the lad they reared with love and pride, that same pride filling their hearts as they watched their son march away to face the danger threatening his homeland? But danger does not exist solely on foreign shores. The ambitions of the enemy can spread far beyond those borders crossing even the shores of England.’
    He could see fear mounting on the faces of women suddenly clutching children to them, men frowning in bewilderment. This was not going to prove difficult.
    ‘We have all heard of spies,’ he went on, ‘of people living in our towns and cities, folk that are liked and trusted yet who in truth serve the enemy by passing on to them knowledge of defence measures as well as vital information regarding places of production of armaments.’
    ‘Be you saying we ’ave such ’ere in Wednesbury?’
    Thorpe shook his head at the question. ‘No.’
    ‘Then why be you a sayin’ it? Such talk serves to frighten women.’
    ‘’Old on Zeke,’ another man’s voice cut across the protest, ‘the pastor don’t be meanin’ to frighten folk.’
    Pastor . Thomas Thorpe’s blood warmed at the term. He was already recognised as leader of the congregation, the man who conducted religious service and now he was being referred to as ‘Pastor’; a few more uses of the title and talk of having a properly ordained minister would be forgotten.
    ‘Don’t ’e!’ Though seventy years old, Ezekial Turley’s voice rang firm round the small unadorned chapel. ‘Then what do ’e be meanin’ of!’
    ‘Zeke be right in what ’e be askin’, what do you mean Mr Thorpe, ain’t been no strange man not in these parts, ’ad there been we . . . well, we would ’ave noticed.’
    Mister! Elation which had briefly soared hot in Thorpe’s veins tumbled to a cold hard stop.
    ‘So goo on,’ Ezekial Turley urged, ‘tell ’er, tell we all what be back o’ this talk o’ spies? What be the reasonin’ when like Mary says there ain’t bin sight o’ any strange man, not hereabouts there ain’t.’
    The demand, assisted by a wave of speculation fluttering among the assembly, afforded him time to mask his displeasure at being addressed as plain Mister. Thorpe looked at the woman who had called her question, a woman now clutching protectively at the arm of a lad beside her.
    A woman and a lad! A lad appearing to be much of an age as the one who had shared Chapel House!
    A lad of much the same age. He must