The Silent War by Victor Pemberton Read Free Book Online Page A

you’ll get on with a new
daddy
?’
    Sunday’s eyes widened. She was too shocked to answer.
    Despite the weather forecast on the wireless that it was going to be a hot and sunny afternoon, thick grey rain-clouds were rolling past high above the Holloway Road, giving the impression that this was not a pleasant Sunday afternoon in May but a chilly, autumnal day in late October. In fact, by the time Madge and her fellow Salvation Army officers had set up their musical instruments and bandstands in the forecourt of the Marlborough Cinema, the first raindrops were already tip-tapping their way down on to the bandparts. Within just a few minutes, the pavements were shimmering with wet reflections of the sulky sky above, and a thin trickle of water gradually snaked its way along the gutters to disappear into the sewers below.
    However, the men and women of the Highbury Division Salvation Army Brass Band were made of stern stuff, and so, wrapped up in their uniforms and black and red bonnets and caps, they launched straight into their own stirring version of ‘John Brown’s Body’.
    The moment she came out of ‘the Buildings’, Sunday could hear the distant sound of tambourines clattering, the beating of the big bass drum, a trumpet blasting, cymbals clashing, and the whine of the harmonium. Huddled beneath her leaking brolly, she quickly made her way along the Holloway Road, where she soon found the Sunday afternoon band service in full swing. Much to her astonishment, there was a sizeable crowd gathered round. Some of them were regular followers, but the rest were just killing time before the doors opened at the Marlborough Cinema for the Sunday afternoon performance of
The Man in Grey
. But despite the driving rain, the atmosphere was joyful and exhilarating, with the worshippers singing out loud, clapping their hands and stamping their feet in time to ‘Glory! Glory, Hallelujah! His soul goes marching on!’
    Madge Collins’s face lit up when she saw Sunday standing at the back of the crowd. Madge was, of course, an active member of the band, but the huge euphonium she was playing seemed to be almost as tall as herself, and as she blew through the mouthpiece, her chubby cheeks puffed out in time to the music, the effort of which had turned her face a startling blood-red.
    The rain was now a downpour, and the sound of raindrops pelting down on top of Sunday’s brolly made a curious, ethereal accompaniment to the robust chorus of human voices, tambourines, euphonium, cymbals, harmonium, and, of course, the dominant big bass drum. Even a small bunch of snotty-nosed kids were thoroughly enjoying themselves by marching up and down in the rain and mimicking the musicians. However, Sunday was only half-heartedly joining in the chorus, for her attention was focused on scanning the faces of the members of the band and their small choir of Salvationist officers grouped around them in a semicircle. Needless to say, over the years she had got to know most of them, for, each week when she was a little girl, her mum had taken her up to the Salvation Army Hall at Highbury to listen to endless band practices and Bible readings. There were so many ‘aunties’ and ‘uncles’ that she couldn’t keep up with them. Her particular favourite was ‘Auntie’ Elsie, who worked in Lavalls’ Sweet Shop in Seven Sisters Road, and who regularly brought her jelly babies until the war came along and they were rationed. She also quite liked ‘Auntie’ Vera, except that every time she spoke to Sunday she kept quoting bits of the Bible at her, and telling her that ‘God always looks after little children – but only if they behave themselves.’ ‘Uncle’ Sid was a funny man, for he was always telling Sunday jokes. The only trouble was, he always laughed louder than anyone else at them and never stopped poking her in the ribs as he did so. Yes, there were lots of ‘aunties’ and ‘uncles’, and quite a few of them were here today. But