Lily’s War Read Free Page B

somewhere beneath her ribs. She led the children to seats next to the inner aisle and sat between them.
    ‘I’d like to sit at the front,’ said May, getting up almost as soon as she sat down.
    ‘You can’t.’
    ‘I’m not going to see anything here.’
    ‘Sit down, May, or I’ll take you home again,’ said Lily.
    May sat but in such a way that the seat tipped up and her behind got wedged in the space at the back. ‘Help!’ she yelled.
    ‘Trust her,’ groaned Ronnie, ducking his head and glancing about furtively. ‘Always having to make people notice us.’
    ‘I’ve a good mind to leave you there, causing trouble when we’ve only been here two minutes,’ hissed Lily, standing up.
    ‘Need a hand?’
    She would have recognised the voice anywhere and felt the colour rise in her cheeks. ‘Thanks a lot.’
    They tugged and May was free. She looked mournfully up at her rescuer and said, ‘I didn’t mean to do it. It really was an accident.’
    He raised one eyebrow. ‘Are you sure?’
    She gave him a puzzled look. ‘I’ve seen you before.’
    ‘That’s right.’ His gaze shifted to Lily’s face and he held out a hand. ‘I’m Brother Matthew of the brotherhood of St Barnabas. I’m an Anglican priest.’ There was laughter in his eyes. ‘I know for sure we’ve met before! Something to do with a kipper.’
    Lily smiled. ‘You look different without the habit.’
    ‘So I keep getting told but it’s too Catholic for a meeting like this,’ he said ruefully. ‘You’d be surprised, though, how warm and comfortable it is for outdoor work.’ He released her hand. ‘I’ll have to go. I hope to see you later.’
    Lily murmured agreement and watched his black-clad figure go to the front of the hall. There was nothing tall, dark and handsome about him but he definitely had something and she could agree with Mrs Draper about the voice. She was looking forward to hearing him speak.
    First, though, they had to suffer the singing. A woman began to bash out music on an upright piano. ‘Jesus died for all the children, all the children of the world, red and yellow, black and white …’ Several sang louder than the preacher but Lily could pick his voice out. There were two more hymns and then Richard, the curate from the mother church, welcomed them all before introducing their visitor as a man who had been doing God’s work in southern India. There was an expectant hush.
    Matt Gibson stood on stage and opened a black leather-covered Bible. ‘Though I speak with the tongues of men and angels and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains and have not charity, I am nothing …’
    His voice had risen and Lily felt a delicious shiver run through her. This was sheer poetry! ‘And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor – and give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing …’ His tone was impassioned and had speeded up. ‘Charity suffereth long, and is kind, it beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things.’ His voice dropped to a silken whisper. ‘Faith, hope, charity … but the greatest of these is charity.’
    His reading had set the mood and there was a breathless silence as he closed the Bible.
    ‘Is your neighbour hard to love?’
    ‘Not ’arf!’ exclaimed someone. ‘Him and her are always going at each other, fist and tongue!’
    ‘Shush!’ said several people.
    Matthew smiled. ‘Well, sister, if you can’t love them I’m wasting my time here because you won’t be able to care for those in India.’ He paused. ‘India is a vast, beautiful country which has a population that runs into many millions. Many are poorer than any you might meet in the filthiest court in Liverpool. There are actually people called the Untouchables.’ He paused. ‘These are as much