Read WC02 - Never Surrender for Free Online

disbelief.
    "There has been war and revolution in every corner of Europe."
    "And in England?"
    "We still live as a democracy."
    "Then there is hope," the father concluded. "I always said: "Trust the people." Built my reputation on it. It's only a democracy that can weather the storms of political fortune, link the past with the future."
    "Tempests have struck with remarkable ferocity since democracy took charge, Papa. We may yet be swept away."
    "But still a kingdom, you say? And you are friendly, are you, with the King?"
    "No, not friends. In truth, I don't think he cares for me very much. I was too close to his elder brother, the second Edward. He abdicated."
    "Oh, misery. A realm in which kings abdicate and enemies prevail? My poor, wretched England .. ."
    "Papa, these times are harder than any I have known. But perhaps you can help me."
    The sharp eyes bulged in alarm. "What? Not money again, Winston? Always begging for money."
    If it were so, it was another trait inherited directly from the father, but there seemed little point in saying so.
    "No, Papa, not money. Advice. I fear our country faces nothing but disaster for a very long time. What would you do, in such hard times?"
    The father's head was raised again, his impatience washing away in satisfaction that the son had acknowledged the greater wisdom of the father. "Well, only one thing for it, Winston. Know your enemies. I didn't, you see, underestimated them, and so ... Know your enemy. In that way you will discover how to beat him. That's it, and all of it. So if you have the ear of the government .. ." He had at last discovered a match and bent his head to light it.
    "Papa, I should tell you'
    But it was too late. As the match was struck there was a flash of considerable brilliance, and Lord Randolph was gone, the chair empty. The son was once more alone.
    "Know mine enemies, Papa? But all I ever truly wanted to know was you .. ."
    TWO
    Whit Sunday. The first Sunday of the real war.
    The Reverend Henry Chichester climbed into the pulpit of his ancient parish church of St. Ignatius-without-the-Walls, which stood above the port of Dover, and confronted pews that were crowded with parishioners. There was no denying it: war had been good for business. The flock grew larger with every passing month. What did it matter that these people had grabbed their gas masks and ration books before they'd given a thought to embracing religion, so long as they had ended up here?
    I will have mercy, and not sacrifice: for I am not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance .. .
    Time, he thought, was man's greatest enemy. Time passes, and time destroys. There was a time when he had been a young man brimming with self-belief and optimism, before the trenches of Flanders. There was, too, a later time when he had gathered the pieces of that lost happiness through his love for Jennie, yet God seemed unshakable in His plan that Henry Chichester's days were not to be spent in a state of contentment. Jennie had died giving birth, and had taken with her the last flakes of colour in his life. He had found many other things to fill the void duty, obligation, ritual, the son yet still it was a void. And it felt timeless, without end, a life surrounded by so many people, yet spent so much alone.
    Behind his back they called him Bishop Brimstone in recognition of the strength of his faith. Henry Chichester was a good man, a strong and awe-inspiring preacher for these hard times, which is why they crowded into his pews, placed money upon the plate, filled the churchyard with flowers and left his surplice whiter than any summer cloud. All for faith. Yet none of the eager faces now raised in front of him could comprehend how, alongside his faith, sat failure. His life had been a litany of failure. He had failed in the trenches, simply by surviving. He had failed Jennie, too, by letting her die, and then failed as a father by letting Don go. He had even failed his God. The Reverend