Tuesday 21 June 2016

Running in the Family (Excerpt)

'Try it,' Loretta urged. 'See if you can knock the tin can from that post.'


'I don't know how,' James protested.

'Concentrate. Will it to happen.'

James tried, mainly to humour her. He didn't believe for a second he could move the can by willpower alone. Years of studying science had convinced him of that.

As James expected, nothing happened.

'Doesn't look like I've got special powers after all,' he commented, 'so I definitely won't be trying flying.'

Loretta frowned. 'You should be able to do these things. I cannot understand why nothing happens.' She sighed. 'I suppose it must be down to that powerful human brain of yours - it can alter reality to fit what you believe, and you don't yet believe in your powers.'

'If you say so, Loretta. I don't have time to work on it now. I'm meeting Julia, I have to get going, or we'll be late for the party.'

'Of course. Maureen's party. I have been invited too - I shall see you there.'

James walked across the campus, his hands in his pockets, deep in thought. Loretta was at best mistaken and at worst, taking him for some kind of ride. Who knew what went on inside that alien head of hers?

As he reached Julia's door, he put it to the back of his mind. He wasn't going to let Loretta and her crazy ideas spoil his evening. He was determined to enjoy the party.

'Dance with me?' James asked Julia as the band struck up a slow, romantic song.

'Can you manage it?' she asked.

'Still trying to be my nurse, aren't you? I can dance to slow numbers. I'm not sure I should attempt the jive just yet, but this is fine.'

Julia smiled and let him enfold her in his arms. It felt good. He drew her closer; she rested her head on his shoulder. James was about to close his eyes and savour the moment when he saw something in the corner of his vision. It registered somewhere in his mind as out of the ordinary.

He looked up to see what it was. A tall man strode across the room. He wore black from the toes of his knee-length leather boots to the high collar of his long, swirling cape. His face was obscured by a gold mask. Definitely out of the ordinary. He stood in the corner, watching everyone. Periodically, he glanced towards the door.



The oddest thing of all was that everyone else in the room ignored him completely. Nobody even looked in his direction. James, however, couldn't stop himself from staring. The man stared right back. Despite the mask, James knew the stranger was glaring at him. For some reason, he'd taken a dislike to James on sight. 'You see that guy in the corner?' he whispered to Julia.

'Which corner?'

'Over there.' He nodded to where the strange man stood.

'There's nobody there, James. It must be the way the shadow falls.'

'No, Julia, there's a man there, he's wearing a mask, but he's looking at me as if... You can't see him, can you?'

'No, James, I can't.' Julia's face took on a worried look. 'Let's go outside for a minute, get you some fresh air.' She led him outside, where she made him sit on the front step. 'Are you all right?' She looked him in the eye.

'I thought you agreed to stop treating me as a patient.'

'I'm not. I'm concerned. Any woman would be, if her boyfriend suddenly started seeing things.'

'Julia - those painkillers I've been taking - could they make me hallucinate?'

'I wouldn't have thought so, but you never know, especially if you took too many by mistake. You're feeling OK, though?'

'Perfectly; but I think I'll sit here in the fresh air for a while, anyway.'

Julia took his hand, worrying in silence.

Moments later, they heard voices. 'Are you sure he came this way?' a woman’s voice said.
'He must have, I can't see where else he could have gone,' a man's voice replied.

Julia gasped as the speakers came into view. They were dressed strangely. The man wore boots, slacks, a sweatshirt and rose-tinted glasses; he carried what looked like a gun. The woman was blonde, dressed in white boots, a short white tunic and a mask. James stared at them in horror.

'Don't worry,' Julia whispered, 'I see them, too.'

The woman turned when she heard Julia speak, and gasped, as if James and Julia's appearance was as strange to her as hers was to them. The man looked at them in equal astonishment before regaining his composure. 'Excuse us, please,' he said, stepping through Maureen's front door. Curious, James and Julia followed.

Maureen squealed when she saw the two newcomers. 'What the devil...?' Several other guests turned to look as well, hearing their host's distress. A couple of the braver male guests came forward to stand beside Maureen, looking threateningly at the strangers.

'Ah.' The man stopped in his tracks. There was a mere moment's hesitation on his part before he gathered his wits and said to Maureen, 'So this isn't fancy dress?'

'No, it is not,' Maureen said, haughtily. 'Who are you, anyway? This is my party, and I don't know you. Who invited you?'

The man opened his mouth and closed it again, at a loss to explain himself. 'Is there a problem, Maureen?' Loretta asked. The stranger saw her and seemed suddenly inspired.
'Loretta did, she told us it was fancy dress,' the man growled. 'Loretta, I want a word with you.'

Loretta looked baffled, but followed him out of the door. James followed at a discreet distance. He could tell Loretta didn't know these people any more than Maureen did, despite their apparent familiarity with her.

They didn't seem as menacing as the man in the corner, but James was sure they were connected with him in some way. Loretta might need rescuing; not that James had any idea what he might be able to do, especially since the man was armed.



'All right,' Loretta faced the strangers squarely. 'You know my name, but I do not have any idea who you are or what you are doing here. I would appreciate it very much if you would explain.'

'That's exactly what we want to do,' the man said. 'First, I must apologise for all of this, and secondly, please let me assure you we don't mean you or any of the guests at that party any harm.'

'Where did you come from?' Loretta asked.

'When did we come from would be a more appropriate question,' the man said. 'This will sound crazy, Loretta, but if anyone around here is going to believe this it's you. We're from the future. Thirty years into the future, to be exact.'

'Fascinating,' Loretta breathed, peering closely at him. 'I know time travel is theoretically possible, but... how did you do it?'

'We didn't, exactly. We were caught up in someone else's slipstream - albeit intentionally.'
'Why did you come looking for me?' Loretta asked.

'We didn't. It was lucky for us you happened to be here. You see, in thirty years' time, the two of us, you, and several others are all members of a crime-fighting team made up of people with exceptional powers and skills. It's called the Freedom League.'

'I see. You are the leader of this - Freedom League?'

'No. I am in charge of this particular mission, however.'

'I would prefer to deal with your leader,' Loretta said.

'I'm sorry, but that's not possible right now. There are a couple of good reasons why he's not with us; one, he's being held prisoner in a stasis field by one of our sworn enemies, and two, the laws of co-existence - two versions of one being cannot exist together in one time period. If that happens, the older version sickens and dies within a few hours. It would be suicide. We're not born in this time, but a younger version of our leader is alive now.'

'Could I not speak to the younger version?' Loretta asked.

'You could,' the man from the future said, slowly, 'but at this point in his life, he's going to know even less about what's going on than you do.'

James edged forward, listening hard.

'This enemy, a dangerous criminal, has stolen a time-travel device and an invisibility field generator.'

'Which means he could be lurking, unseen, in any historical period?' Loretta said. Any puzzlement or fear about the strangers had vanished now she'd heard their explanation. 'It would be like finding the - what is it you say - needle in a haystack.'

'Right - except the device has a range effect. We placed ourselves in his slipstream. He's in this time, and we're sure he's in this building. We followed his trail right to this door.'

'And if he has travelled through time again?'

'He can't. At least, not yet. The device has to re-charge. We have a few minutes to find him before he jumps to another time and we lose him completely.'

'And he is invisible?'

'Almost certainly.'

'Can any of you detect invisible beings?'

'Our leader, can, but...'

'He's in a stasis field,' Loretta finished for him. 'Okay, so we have to locate someone none of us can see.'

'So you'll help us?' the woman asked, eagerly.

'I will try,' Loretta said, 'but I can make no promises. I cannot see what is not visible, any more than you can.'

James stepped forward. 'Pardon me for interrupting,' he said, 'and for eavesdropping, but I couldn't help hearing what you said. If the person you're after was visible, would he by any chance be dressed completely in black with a cape and a gold mask?'

'Why, yes, that's Obsidian all right,' the man said. 'You - you've seen him.' It was a statement, not a question.

'He's in there. I saw him, nobody else seemed to. I'll help you catch him.'

'James, are you sure?' Julia looked concerned. 'He's probably dangerous.'

'Julia, before these people came along I was convinced I was going mad and seeing things. Thanks to them, I know I'm not. The least I can do is help them. Besides, it looks as if I'm the only one who can.'

'My friend James is gifted, as you are,' Loretta explained.

'We know,' the woman said.



'You know me in the future too?' James gasped.

'Yes.'

'One question. In the future – do I have special powers? Flying and energy bolts?'

'Yes. And you can see invisible things, as you seem to be aware already.'

'I'm learning all the time,' James said. He'd not even been able to even knock a can off a post so far, but it looked as if he would, one day, master the powers Loretta had assured him he had.

'Let's do this,' James said.

The man from the future gave him a tight smile. 'Thank you,' he said.

'Don't, James, he could kill you!' Julia cried, clutching at his sleeve.

The woman turned to Julia and said gently, 'He'll be all right. We couldn't have met him in the future if anything had happened to him now.'

'I hope you're right,' Julia said.

'We are. Trust us.'

The door swung open and slammed violently against the wall. Julia shuddered when she looked and saw nobody there. 'It's him,' James hissed. 'Get behind the wall, Julia - they didn't say they knew you in the future, so stay out of sight!'

The black caped figure stood in the doorway, glaring at them. 'What a nice little welcoming committee,' he sneered. 'Target and Ivory. And what have you managed to dig up from the past, I ask myself?' He spun around to face James, who took a step backwards. 'You. I thought it was you in there when I realised you could see me. Well, well. You know, at this moment, I am actually more powerful than you. From my point of view, that makes a nice change! What an opportunity! If I kill you now, I'll save myself a lot of trouble in years to come. Without their leader, that pesky Freedom League will never even exist.'

James backed away, his mind reeling. He was their leader in the future? He decided not to think about that. He probably wasn't going to survive to become their leader, in any case. He could only resign himself to his fate. Obsidian raised his hand. There was an aura around it, as if he was gathering power. Energy bolts from the fingers. Loretta had mentioned that, as had Target and Ivory.

'I won't let you kill James - you'll have to kill me first,' Julia threw herself between him and Obsidian, facing the caped man down like a cornered wildcat.

'Julia, don't!' James cried, intensely proud of her, but terrified for her at the same time.
Obsidian roared with laughter. 'A noble gesture, my dear little Julia,' he said, 'though it shows you cannot be aware of the extent of my powers. Your futuristic friends will soon tell you - I can control my energy blasts so they'd pass right through you, but still blow your boyfriend to smithereens! Nor do you seem to realise I'd just as happily kill you, but if that's what you want...' James grasped Julia's hand. At least they'd die together.

Meanwhile, Target had quietly positioned himself directly behind Loretta. He gave her an almighty shove, sending her stumbling into Obsidian. Obsidian roared with anger as the aura of power around his hand fizzled out.



'Stay with him, Loretta!' Target urged. 'His power won't work as long as you're within three feet of him!'

Loretta got the message immediately. She grabbed hold of Obsidian's cloak and held on tightly, resisting all Obsidian's efforts to dislodge her. Target drew his gun, while Ivory stood with one hand raised exactly as Obsidian had done. The same aura shone about her fingers, too.  

'Now, Obsidian, hand over the time travel device, and the stasis-field control, and the invisibility field generator, or we'll shoot. Don't forget, Ivory can shoot through people too!'

Obsidian growled with rage, and dropped three small devices at Target's feet. Target swept them up into his hands. He pocketed two of them. 'This is our ticket out of here,' he grinned, holding up the third, 'back to the future. Loretta, when we activate this, you can let him go. He'll be too anxious not to be stranded in this time and succumb to the law of co-existence to bother attacking any of you. The Freedom League will be able to deal with him at the other end. Thanks, and we'll be seeing you. One day.'

Target tapped buttons on the device. Ivory stood beside him. Loretta loosened her hold on Obsidian's cloak. Sure enough, he didn't stop to attack, but dived for the shimmering, fading forms of Target and Ivory. When they'd vanished, the air in the spot where they'd been standing continued to waver and shimmer, like a heat haze. With a growl of frustration, Obsidian threw himself into it - and likewise vanished.

'Phew!' James said, sitting down heavily on the step with Julia beside him. 'Was all that real?'

'I fear so,' Loretta said.

'The Freedom League, eh? I'd better start working on whatever powers I have if I'm going to be worthy of them. At least I know I can see things other people can't.'

'I know now to stay away from you when you try,' Loretta mused. 'It is no wonder nothing you tried worked before - you were standing too close to me. I had no idea I had that effect on you. It is even news to me.'

'Personally, I only hope they get you out of this stasis thing in one piece,' Julia said.


'They will,' Loretta said, firmly. 'I am sure of it.'



**********

The above is an excerpt from my latest book, Running in the Family. If you want to know more about James, Julia and Loretta's stories, and more, the book is available now from Amazon and Createspace. Here is what you need to know:

Running in the Family


An alien craft approaches Earth. The alien on board is a fugitive, fleeing from an arranged marriage to freedom on our world. She befriends James, a genetics student, and shares her knowledge about the future of the human race with him.

A science experiment gone wrong gifts James with superhuman abilities; but they come at a price, leading him to mentor others like himself. He founds a group of amateur heroes called the Freedom League.

The Freedom League suffers a string of losses and tragedies; it seems doomed to failure; but one of its members, Peter Mayfield, has vowed to form a group of his own. He is determined to keep his vow, despite having lost Rosemary, the one person he wanted by his side to help him.

Lizzie Hopkins is a talented young athlete and dancer. Peter sees her in action and guesses her exceptional abilities are far more than they seem. He offers to train and mentor Lizzie - but her mother is violently opposed to his suggestion.

As soon as she is old enough, Lizzie takes matters into her own hands; she seeks out Peter and his group for herself. She soon makes a discovery which shakes her world at its very foundations. Her search for the truth will resolve many unanswered questions, but it will also stir up old heartbreaks dating back to the Freedom League's early days.

Get it here:




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Thursday 16 June 2016

The Greatest Love

"More tea, Stanley?" Margery looked at her brother questioningly.

"No. Thank you. I need to tell you why I'm here. I came to say goodbye."

"Goodbye?" The colour drained from Margery's face as she put the teapot down on the table. She glanced from Stanley to her husband, Frank.


"Yes. I joined up. They're sending me to fight in France."

Margery had been expecting something like this. Stanley had always been impetuous and impulsive. She had hoped that the war would be over in weeks as the politicians had said, and by the time Stanley was old enough to enlist, it would be too late for him to go. Only the war was showing no signs of ending. Stanley had had his birthday and he was going. "But we might never..." Margery began, but stopped herself.

"...See me again," Stanley finished the sentence for her. "Margery, I'm not afraid to die for my country, and it's for a good cause. It's for our freedom. If not for people like me who are willing, Hitler would have all of us as his prisoners in no time."

Silence fell, with no-one knowing what to say. Finally, Stanley turned to Frank and said, "You should join up, too, Frank. This country needs all the help it can get. No good being apathetic at a time like this."

Margery sighed. It was only to be expected. She knew only too well how Frank felt about it all. She knew how much Stanley disliked him. There was certain to be an argument.

"No," Frank said, firmly. "There is no way I'll kill a fellow human being, German or not. It's not for me to decide who lives and who dies." He stood up, went to the window and looked out, turning his back to them.

"You're scared!" Stanley taunted. "Not for you? I'll tell you, man, it is for you to make sure your wife and any children you have are safe and that they have a future. And the way to do that is to fight for your country."

"Did you not hear what I said?" Frank turned and faced his brother-in-law. "I will not kill another human being. We must forgive our enemies, not kill them, Stanley."

"What?" Stanley spluttered. "Did I hear you right? Forgive them? After everything they've done? My God, you must be mad. I swear I'll never know what Margery saw in a lily-livered coward like you! You should be doing your duty and helping us stop these devils!"

"My duty," said Frank, calmly, "as a Christian, is to forgive my fellow man as Our Lord Jesus Christ did."

"That's no excuse," Stanley said, his voice rising. "Tom Barrett goes to church and he joined up at the same time as I did. You're just scared."

"Tom Barrett has always had some strange ideas about Christianity," Frank said.

"So have you, mate. If there is a God up there he'd be telling his followers to stop that Evil Adolf Hitler from taking over the world, so don't give me that claptrap. Blimey, my sister deserves a better man than you."

"That's quite enough, Stanley." Margery stepped between them and took her husband's arm. "I've always known how my husband feels about war, and actually, I agree with him. I'm sorry you've never got on. I'm sorry that whenever you meet, you argue. I love you both. The world needs both fighters and peacemakers. I wish you'd at least try to part on good terms."

"I should be going," Stanley said. "Goodbye, Marge. I pray for your sake that the fighters in this world outnumber the cowards." He snatched up his coat and hat, and left.

"You don't think I'm a coward, do you?" Frank said, his eyes fixed on the door Stanley had slammed behind him.

Margery went up to him and put her arms around him. "No," she said. "Sometimes it takes more courage to stand up alone for what you believe in and not follow the crowd."

**

A few days later, Margery went into the little village shop to buy a joint of mutton for a Sunday roast. A small group of village women were in front of her in the queue, speaking in low voices. "My Bill got his call up papers this morning," said Mrs Jackson, a tall, thin woman with frizzy hair which was barely tamed by the headscarf she had severely tied under her chin. She spoke with little emotion - she could have been discussing the fact that her gas bill had arrived.


"My Jack's too old," said the rotund, red-faced Mrs Lacey. "Can't say I'm sorry. That last war nearly did for 'im."

"Hey, Margery," Mrs Jackson greeted the new arrival. "Your Frank been called up yet?"

"No," Margery said.

"Won't be long, I shouldn't think," Mrs Jackson said. "They're calling up everyone under thirty."

Margery felt dizzy. Could they do that? Could they force people to fight and kill, even if they did not want to? What would Frank do if he was ordered to fight?

"You okay, love?" Mrs Lacey was saying to her. Margery focussed on the woman. "You look a bit peaky. Perhaps you should sit down."

"I'm fine," Margery said. "I just need to go home."

Forgetting about the mutton, she ran out of the shop and all the way home. "Frank?" she called as she opened the front door. There was no answer. "Frank?" She called again, mounting the stairs. Frank was lying on their bed, fixedly staring at the ceiling. He was holding a letter in his hand.

"Frank, are you all right? What's wrong?" She sat on the bed beside him. He turned his head to look at her. The look in his eyes terrified her.

"They've called me up," Frank said.

"What are you going to do?" Margery asked, softly.

"I won't go. I won't kill. I've been praying about this since the letter came. I'll face whatever they do to me. I know that's what God wants me to do."

Margery snuggled up to her husband and put her arms round him. "I love you," she said.

**

Margery had not foreseen the reaction of their friends and neighbours to Frank's decision. It had not entered her mind to even consider it. If it had, she would have assumed they would be tolerant and respect his feelings the same way that she did. So it did not occur to her to be ashamed of telling her neighbours when she met them the next day in the shop, that Frank had indeed received his call-up papers, but he was not going to fight. In fact, she felt proud of him for taking a stand.

The reaction she got shocked her to the core.

"He's not what?" Mrs Barrett had gasped. "Well, of all the irresponsible - just fancy!"

"I beg your pardon?" Mrs Jackson had stopped in her tracks. "You mean that man of yours isn't going to fight to defend you? It's disgusting. He should be ashamed of himself!"

Even the vicar's wife, who Margery had looked to for reassurance, for surely, as a good Christian and a long time friend, she would understand, put her slightly bulbous nose up in the air and declared, "We shall have to get that idea out of his head. It's his duty to go!  That's terrible!"

Margery stuffed the bag of potatoes into her shopping basket and slunk out of the shop.
It was not long before everyone in the village knew. When Margery went to the shops and the market, everyone pointedly moved away from her and turned their faces away. Even the shopkeepers did not pass the time of day to her any more. They would serve her, but would not look her in the eye and certainly didn't make cheery comments about the weather like they used to.

It was worse for Frank. They didn't ignore him, but jeered at spat at him, instead. Even in church.

The couple did not stay for a cup of tea after the service as they usually did, but slipped away without even shaking hands with the vicar. They walked home in silence, holding hands.
They didn't speak much over Sunday lunch, either. They didn't need to. They were both completely sure of the other's support.

As Margery washed the dishes, she heard the rattle of the letter box. That's strange, she thought. The postman never calls on a Sunday. Frank came into the kitchen holding an envelope. He opened it. Inside was a folded slip of paper. As he opened the note, a white feather drifted to the ground at his feet. As Frank read the note, his face fell. Margery did not have to read it herself to guess why.


She did what she knew Frank would do for her if the position was reversed. She gently took the note out of his hand, and without reading it, threw it on the fire. "That's where that belongs," she said, as they watched the paper blacken and curl and turn to ash.

It was only the first of many, all anonymous, unsigned and writing disguised. "They call you a coward," Margery said, as she threw the latest missive onto the fire unopened, "but I notice they don't have the guts to identify themselves."

Then the letter came that could not be ignored - the one from the government threatening legal action if Frank did not report for conscription within the week.

"I won't kill," Frank said. "But I can't stay here and be insulted, either. So I shall have to go."

"You're going? But what will you do if they try to force you to kill someone?"

"I shall volunteer for the medical corps," Frank said. "That way I can save lives instead of taking them."

"It's dangerous, Frank." Margery shivered.

"I know - but I have to prove I'm not a coward. That's why I'm going."

He left the next day. "Pray for me, Marge," he said as he held her tight before getting on the train.

Margery went home alone. The house was empty without him, and as she lay in their bed alone in the dark, her fears haunted her. No matter how hard she tried to pray, they would not go away.

By day, Margery was still alone. The neighbours seemed to be assuming that Frank had run away rather than join up and that made them even colder towards her. The poison pen letters didn't stop; people still ignored her, and, without Frank to vent their anger on, some even started spitting at her.

A week after Frank had left, Margery also boarded the train to go and stay with her parents. Her mother and father were sympathetic with Frank's position, but Stanley, who was home on leave, refused to believe he was working for the medical corps and agreed with the villagers - he must have just run away.

At least in the town, nobody outside the family even knew Frank, and as long as Margery didn't say too much, people assumed her husband was away fighting. Stanley went back to the front the morning after she arrived, and so Margery was no longer ostracised when she went to the local shop.

One day, a telegram came. Stanley was missing, believed captured.

**

The dark green ambulance chugged along a narrow, one track country lane in France. The lane was never patrolled - the enemy general in charge of the area had mistakenly assumed that nothing would attempt to get down there. A tank or an armoured vehicle would never make it, for sure. The road was too bumpy for explosives to be carried safely, but an ambulance was not deterred. It was on its way to the front to pick up wounded people and take them to safety.


The driver had no idea where he was, not really. He'd learned his little route, and he knew he was in France, but more than that he didn't know. He wasn't attached to any platoon, but worked independently. He had to - for the soldiers he met despised his tendency to carry enemy soldiers to hospital as well as the Allied ones. But for Frank, there was no option to do anything different. He could see that the German and Italian boys were suffering as much as the British ones.

He wondered, as he drove, how Margery was doing and if she was well. He couldn't help smiling as he pictured her face in his mind. Suddenly, he was jolted back to reality by the sight of a man running out of the forest and into the field by the side of the track. He was limping, and seeing the ambulance, ran onto the road and waved.

Frank did even try to work out whose side the man was on, but slowed and stopped. He got out of the vehicle and beckoned the man over. He was dumbfounded to see that the soldier was none other than Stanley.

Stanley seemed to forget the differences he and Frank had had as he limped up to him. "Thank God," Stanley said. "We need to get out of here, fast. There's a troop of Jerries in those woods. I managed to get away from them, even though one of them shot me in the foot. I hid in some bracken and they all ran past me, but it's only a matter of time before they break out of those woods and kill us both."

"I should see to that foot first."

"But... we're behind enemy lines!"

"Is that so?" Frank said, reaching for a bandage and binding Stanley's foot. "Not the best place to bleed to death. Okay, that should do, let's go."

Frank shoved the ambulance into reverse - there was nowhere to turn around, and slammed his foot to the floor. The engine screamed in protest at having to go so fast in a low gear. As soon as they reached the entrance to a field, Frank executed a rapid three point turn and sped away at speed. The cracks of gunfire could be heard as the Nazis emerged from the forest. "Keep your head down," Frank said.

The passenger side window shattered as a bullet hit it, but thanks to Frank's command, it didn't hit Stanley but lodged in the dashboard instead. The ambulance picked up speed and before long, had lost the foot soldiers.

"I thought you said you'd never kill," Stanley said. "What changed your mind?"

"Did you see me kill anyone? I haven't changed my mind. Instead of putting my life at risk to kill people, I put my life at risk to save lives. Any lives."

"Whatever - I'm glad you were here, or I'd have been toast. Cigarette?"

"No, thank you."

"What do you mean, any lives? Are you saying that if I'd shot one of those Jerries in the foot you'd have picked him up and taken him to hospital, too?"

"Yes. I would."

"Okay. So you're not a coward - but you are crazy," Stanley said.

Just then the engine began to splutter and the ambulance juddered to a halt. "I was afraid of this," Frank said. "Looks like they hit the fuel tank. We're going to have to walk the rest of the way. I'm sorry - but at least we're not behind enemy lines any more."

Frank grabbed a couple of containers and helped Stanley get down. They set off over the fields towards the westering sun. It was slow progress. Stanley's limp grew steadily worse and they had to make frequent rest stops. Eventually, Stanley could go no further. Frank settled his brother in law under a tree and went to fill the containers with water. From the river, he could see some farm buildings - perhaps after a drink and a rest they could make it there.

As he made his way back, Frank saw the soldier in Nazi uniform, creeping behind the bushes towards Stanley. The man had a gun, and had Stanley in his sights.

Frank knew only too well that warning Stanley would do no good - with his injured foot, he wouldn't get far.

Any other man would have had a loaded pistol at his belt and would have silently drawn it and shot the enemy soldier dead. Frank refused to carry a gun - he knew he'd never use it, and it was extra weight to carry. Frank had no time to think, or even pray. He dropped the containers of water and ran back to Stanley. He got there just as the Nazi soldier took aim. Frank threw himself at the enemy soldier just as he fired. The shot went wide, and Frank and the Nazi wrestled on the ground. The soldier was trained in combat; Frank was not, and so it was not long before Frank was lying on the ground and the German had his foot on Frank's chest, pointing the gun at him. The German chuckled as he slowly pulled the trigger. Frank stood no chance.

Stanley stared in horror as the German turned to him. He was sure he was about to die - so much so that his life flashed in front of his eyes. Again, the German slowly pressed on the trigger.

Click. The German muttered something Stanley was sure must be an obscenity and tried again. Click. No more bullets. Nevertheless, Stanley was injured, and as the German took a step towards him, Stanley was sure again he would die. The man probably had a knife as well as a gun.

"Don't move." The voice was unfamiliar and came from somewhere behind Stanley.

The German dropped his useless gun and put up his hands; Stanley turned and saw a British soldier with a rifle aimed at the German.

The farm Frank had seen had been commandeered by the British; a patrolling sentry had heard the shots and come running. Stanley was safe.

**

Margery's mother held the telegram in trembling fingers. They always brought bad news. "I can't open it," she whispered, handing it to Margery.


Margery tore it open. "They... they've found Stanley!" She cried. "He's alive! He's injured, but he's alive and he's coming home!"

"It's a miracle!" Her mother cried. "Did you hear that, Percy?" She took the telegram and ran with it into the back garden where her husband was digging.

Margery was overjoyed to hear about her brother, but was only too aware that she had had no letter from Frank this week, and that worried her. Still, it was possible the mail just hadn't got through. She went back to her desk where a half-written letter to Frank lay on the blotter. She picked up her pen and began to tell him about Stanley.

Stanley arrived a few days later, leaning on a cane, his foot still bandaged. He hugged his mother and father. Margery watched him, thinking how haggard and weary he looked. When he turned to her, the smile he had been holding for his mother faded away. He had a haunted, grief-stricken look in his eyes.

Stanley could see how happy his sister was to see him. That meant they hadn't told her. Perhaps her telegram had gone to her house in the village. He was going to have to tell her. His heart deflated. He didn't know how to begin.

"We'd better go in and sit down. I have some very bad news."

"Yes, Stanley, you should be sitting down," his mother said. "But you don't have to talk about the war. Not if you don't want to."

He sat down heavily in his father's leather armchair. "I have to tell you this," he said.
"Can I get you some tea?" Margery asked.

"No. Thank you. Please, Margery, sit down and listen to me."

Margery saw how pale he had become, and the sudden sharp edge to his voice. Falteringly, he related the story of what had happened. He saw how Margery's face lit up when he came to the part where Frank had picked him up in the ambulance, and how it crumpled when he told her how Frank had died. "He saved my life," Stanley said, holding his sobbing sister in his arms. "He was no coward. A coward would have run away and let the Jerry shoot me, but he didn't. I'm sorry I ever called him a coward. I never got the chance to say I was sorry - or to thank him..."

"He'd forgive you," Margery said, through her tears. "I know he would."

Margery's mother stood up. Her eyes were wet, but there was determination in them. "I'm going to make sure that boy gets the recognition he deserves. I'm going to write to the village paper and tell them this. It'll put those people to shame, I swear it will."

Margery excused herself and went to her room. She didn't really care whether the likes of Mrs. Jackson were put to shame for calling Frank a coward. It didn't matter that Stanley knew the truth, either. None of that would bring him back to her.

She cried for a long time. Her mother's determination to set the record straight was no comfort. She needed comfort. What would Frank do if he were here and she were dead? She knew the answer to that. She got up and picked up her Bible from the bedside table, and sat on the edge of the bed. The leather bound book fell open at a well-thumbed page.


The words were blurred by her tears, but she didn't need to read them, for she knew the verse she had underlined on that page by heart.

"Greater love hath no man than this; that a man lay down his life for his friends."