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"No, I don't mind. It's a rare progressive disorder of the nervous system—
the name is unpronounceable, at least for me. Get James to write it down
for you sometime. There's still no treatment for it, despite all the research
that's gone on all over the world. Of course, the Protectorate had no
research into it at all."
"Are you confined to bed all the time?"
"I used to be able to get about in a wheelchair, but I hardly ever can,
these days—I break out in pressure sores almost instantly, so I stay in this
airbed most of the time. It keeps my body changing position slightly every
few minutes, to keep the circulation going properly. James does take me to
the hospital pool when I'm able to cope with the trip in the car, but that
hasn't been possible for a while."
"Doesn't it get you down, being immobile all day?"
"I get depressed sometimes, but overall I'm not unhappy, Carl. God's
been good to me. James is wonderful. I'm only worried about Mandy, and
for James' sake. Betty's a good friend. She's a Christian, which is a blessing.
We pray and sing together a lot. She thinks up all sorts of ways to keep my
brain working, and to make physiotherapy more fun."
"She's here all day, every day, I gather. Does she live nearby?"
"No, she doesn't even live in Goldridge—she commutes every day from
Mallee. It's a fair way. She takes Saturday and Sunday afternoons off, when
James is here. She's a special person too."
"She certainly is," Carl agreed. He paused and then changed back to a
previous subject. "So you think your illness has disturbed your daughter
Amanda to such an extent that she's had a complete change of personality?"
he asked.
"I-I don't know what to think," Laura stammered, her eyes filling with
tears, "I-I haven't seen Mandy for two weeks—she comes home late, and she
never comes in here any more. All I can do is p-pray, Carl! What else can I
do in this state?"
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before answering her. "Laura,"
he said, "There's something extremely unpleasant going on in this town, and
I think Amanda has somehow become mixed up in it. There's more to her
problem than just rebellion." He sighed. "You remember the Protectioners,
Laura, don't you?"
She nodded. "Yes, I know who they were. Are you suggesting that they're
behind what's been going wrong here?"
"I'm not just suggesting it. I know they are," Carl said, "I have good
reasons to be sure of it."
"But I thought they were all in prison!" she exclaimed.
"They're not. And this is where we need your help, Laura. If we're to stop
that mob from carrying out their plans, we need you to pray and to get
others to pray." Carl hesitated, but then went on, "Laura, what I'm going to
tell you will help you to pray, but I would like you not to talk about it with
anyone but God unless I tell you it's okay. Can you promise that, d'you
think?"

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She looked thoughtfully at him for a few moments before answering.

"Yes, Carl, I can promise that," she said, finally, "I'll talk only to God about
whatever it is you're going to tell me."
"The man at the head of all this mess is the mayor, Ross Lancaster," he
began, staring out the window as he spoke, "I've known that man for a long
time. He is completely unprincipled and extremely ambitious. He has told
me himself that his aim is to return to a Protectorate-type dictatorship, with
himself as president and this town as its capital. He has somehow managed
to win the favour of most of the people here—how, I don't know. He doesn't
care whom he destroys on his way to power, but he's determined to get rid
of anyone who gets in his way, even by killing them if necessary. He and his
mob are responsible, to some extent, for the state of the church here. I say
'to some extent' because unfortunately the rot started before he got into the
act. He just took advantage of it. He's quite determined to destroy all
believers in this country, though. I've met two of his allies here—Alf
Greenstone and Geoff Hillman." He looked up at Laura. She was horrified by
what he'd told her, and didn't know what to say. "I think Lancaster has
somehow got a hold on Amanda and is using her for his own ends," he
added gently.
He got up to fetch a tissue to wipe Laura's face, for she was crying.
"Th-Thank you," she said as he wiped the tears from her cheeks, "I can't
do that for myself."
"So I guessed," he said, "You see what we're up against, don't you? Why
we need all the prayers you can muster?"
"Yes. Don't worry, you'll get them. Thank you for sharing that with me—I
promise I won't say a word to anyone about it until you say so."
"Thank you," Carl said, getting up, "I'll have to go now, I have to meet
Henry for tea this evening. I'll tell Betty to come back in here as I go out,
okay?"
"Yes, thanks. and thank you so much for coming, Carl," Laura said,
smiling, "God bless you."
He patted her shoulder. "God bless you, too, Laura," he replied, "And
your family. Don't give up hope for Amanda."
"I won't," she assured him.
He left the room and went to find Betty to let her know he was leaving,
then let himself out and walked down the ramp towards the street. He was
halfway along the ramp when Mandy suddenly jumped out from behind one
of the bushes on the front lawn.
Carl sighed. I'm getting a bit tired of this girl, he thought, wondering
what she was up to this time.
"What were you doing at my house?" she asked imperiously, standing in
front of him on the ramp, her arms crossed.
"I might answer that if you can ask it politely, Amanda," he said quietly.
"You were visiting my mother and you were alone with her," Mandy said
insolently, "I know—I saw Betty come out to cut some flowers while you
were in there. What were you up to with my mother, when my old man isn't
home?"

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"Excuse me, Amanda," Carl said, starting to walk past her, "I haven't got
time to play games. Why don't you go and see your mother? She's missed
you very much."
"My ----- mother can drop dead!" Mandy snapped, her face suddenly
contorted hideously as she spat the words out.
Carl stopped, turned around, and stared at the girl as if she were an
apparition. He grabbed her by the shoulders. "How dare you speak that way
about your mother," he said, quietly but fiercely, "All you seem able to do is
to be insolent and disobedient, causing your parents incredible anguish.
Why don't you start doing the right thing and showing some love for your
mother instead of trying to make her condition worse?"
She wriggled from his grasp and slapped him hard on the face. "Mind
your own business, you ----- !" she yelled, and ran off towards the back of
the house.
Carl, stunned, watched her go, his hand over his cheek.
"Quite the little fury, isn't she?" chuckled a middle-aged woman who had
watched the episode from her garden next door.
Carl turned slowly to see who was speaking.
"Hard to believe she used to be such a quiet kid not so long ago, isn't it?"
the woman continued.
"That's what everyone says," Carl replied. He wasn't interested in gossip.
He looked at his watch. "Excuse me, please, I've got to get going."
He walked away towards the town centre, still nursing his face. He hailed
the first taxi he saw, and asked the driver to take him to the shopping
centre where Joel had his coffee shop.

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"That's an interesting mark you've got on your face, Carl," Joel remarked
as he carried a tray with two mugs of coffee and led Carl to a table at the
back of the coffee shop.
Carl's hand went up to his cheek and he grimaced. "Courtesy of Amanda
Winters, Joel," he said.
Joel's bushy eyebrows rose to meet his wild grey hair. He put the tray
down on the table and frowned at Carl. "Why on earth did she slap you?" he
asked.
"I told her off for cursing her mother," Carl replied as he sat down and
took one of the mugs.
Joel sat down facing him. "Is she down to that kind of thing, now?" he
said, "My word! She's not improving, is she?" He looked very concerned, and
indeed, he was. The Winters were old friends—he'd known Mandy since she
was a baby. "Did you get to see Laura?" he asked, "You said on the phone
you hoped to visit her."
"Yes, I saw her," Carl replied, tapping his teaspoon on the table, "She's
very upset about her daughter. She told me that Amanda hasn't been into
her room—Laura's room, that is—for two weeks!"
"Poor Laura! She must feel so awfully helpless!"
"I gather she spends a great deal of time praying, and she told me that
she considers that God has been very good to her." Carl paused pensively.
He put down his teaspoon and toyed with his serviette instead. "That's really
something, you know, when you realize just what it must mean to be
completely immobile like that."
"Laura used to play the piano, the guitar, and the flute. She used to do a
fair bit of gardening. And she was also a very good seamstress, you know,"
Joel reminisced, "until—sometime during the Protectorate, it was—she
suddenly started tripping over her own feet, and dropping things, and being
unable to lift things. It wasn't so bad as long as she could get around, even
in a wheelchair. It's when she finally lost all control of her limbs that it
became really hard for them, about a year and a half, two years, ago. The
doctors reckon that it won't be long before she can't even breathe on her
own." He shook his head sadly. "It's been terribly hard for the family."
He got up and went to attend to a customer who had just come in. Carl
sat reviewing the afternoon, and what Joel had said, as he sipped his coffee.
He felt quite sure, as he'd said to Laura, that there was more behind
Amanda's behaviour than just normal teenage rebellion. There was a
hostility behind her conduct which chilled him. He hadn't found that
hostility in her friends, yet they, too, were clearly rebelling. Something was
niggling in the back of his mind, but he couldn't quite figure out what it
was. He closed his eyes and prayed for the Winters family.
Henry arrived just after six, and Alice a few minutes later. Alice and Carl
were shocked by Henry's appearance—he looked much worse, even, than he

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had on the Monday morning when Carl had first met him. He sat down
heavily on the chair across from Carl's and held his head on his hands, his
elbows leaning on the table.
"Did you get to the doctor's, Henry?" Alice asked, taking a seat at their
table.
"Yeah..." he answered, barely audibly, "He said there's nothing wrong
with me, physically."
"But you look like you're minutes away from the grave, mate!" Carl
exclaimed, "What did he have to say about that?"
"'Have you had any nasty shocks lately?' That's what he asked me,"
Henry muttered, "I've had a nasty shock, all right. So has James."
"The Elders' meeting." Joel, arriving just in time to hear what Henry said,
stated it as a fact.
Henry nodded wearily. "Dad," he said, turning to Joel, "do you still have
that camp bed you used to keep in the back room?"
"Yes, that's still there," his father replied, "Are you wanting to lie down for
a bit?"
Henry nodded again, and Joel helped him up and led him off to the door,
beckoning to Carl with his chin. "Come and give us a hand, would you?" he
said.
Joel supported his son, and told Carl where to find the camp bed and
how to set it up. When that was done, he helped Henry to lie down, and
rummaged in a cupboard until he found a pillow and blanket. He handed
Carl the pillow, and Carl placed it under Henry's head while Joel spread the
blanket over him and removed his shoes. Henry had closed his eyes almost
before he lay down.
"Can you stay with him a few minutes and make sure he's okay, Carl?"
Joel asked, "I've got to get back to the shop."
"Sure. No problem," Carl answered. He sat down on the floor by the
stretcher, near Henry's head, as Joel left the room.
"What happened, Henry?" he asked softly, "This morning, I mean. Laura
said she heard the other Elders shouting."
"Oh, I'm glad you've seen Laura!" Henry said without opening his eyes,
"This morning... Yeah, they shouted... They called James and me the foulest
things they could think of—in James' own living room! And then, Carl,
then..." He grimaced and fell silent. After a moment he sighed. "Then they
showed us some photographs... Unless we keep our mouths shut the
pictures will be published on the front page of the Courier."
"What kind of photographs?" Carl asked, though he could guess.
"The kind no-one would want to see anywhere, of themselves, of their
loved ones. Especially not in the newspaper!" Henry still spoke very softly.
He fell silent again. He still kept his eyes shut.
"Have a sleep, mate," Carl said, patting his shoulder, "It'll help."
Henry rolled over onto his side, facing the wall. Carl bowed his head and
prayed quietly but earnestly for wisdom for them all, and for a restful night
for James and Laura. Then he got up, and seeing that Henry was asleep,
went back into the cafe.

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He explained to Joel and Alice what Henry had told him. Henry's father
looked like he was about to explode as he voiced his opinion of this new and
contemptible attack on his son.
"And on James, too!" Alice exclaimed, "What is going on in this town?"
"Something very ugly," Carl sighed. He told them about his encounters
with Mandy and his visit to Laura. "Also," he added, "this morning I had
quite a long chat with Amanda's friends, and I didn't find the kind of hatred
in them that I saw in Amanda. There's something happening with that girl
that I can't quite fathom."
"Sounds to me like she's being egged on by someone else," Joel mused
out loud, "My word! Why else would she be following you? I wouldn't have
thought she'd know you from Adam!"
"Sounds to me like someone is having a go at Carl," Alice observed, "It
would appear that someone wants to discredit you, Carl, and I'd say it's
probably the same people who've been tearing the local churches apart...
Don't you think so?"
"I don't know why they would be bothered about me," Carl said, "but I
admit I tend to agree." They invited me here, after all, he said to himself. "I
told Laura her part in all this is critical," he added, "We need all the prayer
support we can get..." He suddenly felt very tired. "You wouldn't happen to
have two camp beds, would you, Joel?" he asked.
Joel laughed. "You know what, Carl?" he said, "If Alice is willing to hold
the fort here, I'm going to drive you and Henry home right now and get you
to bed! You blokes have had quite a day! Are you game, Alice?"
"Yes, Joel," she smiled, "I can handle your coffee shop. I think it's a good
idea. These boys have had a rough day."
Carl grinned at Alice—Henry and he were hardly boys!
"I'll get the car and take it to the back of the shop," Joel said as he stood
up, "See you shortly, Alice."
"See you later, Joel," Alice said, and turned to Carl with a twinkle in her
eye. "Carl, was that silly grin because of my calling you 'boys'?" she asked
mischievously.
"How old is Henry, Alice?" Carl asked with a smile.
"Forty-nine, I believe," she answered, "How old are you?"
"Forty-five."
"Mere lads, you see. I'm well into my seventies, old enough to be your
mother."
"And about to become Henry's, eh?"
"He hasn't objected," Alice laughed, "In fact, he's agreed to officiate at our
wedding."
"That will be a very special occasion," Carl said, then, suddenly serious,
he asked, "How long ago did his wife die?"
"Let's see..." she replied thoughtfully, "It was twelve years ago, Carl.
They'd been married just ten years."
"He's had a rough time..." Carl muttered, looking towards the door. He
sighed. "Well, I'd better get on home with him." He turned to Alice again.

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"Good-night, Alice, see you tomorrow sometime," he said, and headed to the
back room.
"Good-night, Carl," Alice smiled, "God bless you."

!!!

Henry's phone was beeping insistently, but he was so deeply asleep that
it was a good three minutes before the sound reached his consciousness. He
lay in his bed another minute trying to work out what the sound was, and
realised it had been going on for some time. He got up slowly, still feeling
unwell, and made his way to the lounge. He drew a chair up to the phone
and sat down before picking up the instrument. "Yes?" he asked sleepily.
"Henry? Are you all right?" Joel's voice sounded urgently through the
receiver.
"Oh, hello, Dad," Henry muttered, "Yeah, I'm all right. Why are you
ringing so early?"
"It's not so early, son," Joel replied, "It's after seven-thirty. My shop opens
at seven, you know. Anyway, the reason I'm calling you is to ask you if
you've seen this morning's Courier. My word! Page three. Have you seen it
already?"
"No—I was still asleep," Henry said. He was wide awake now. "What do
you mean? Oh—hang on, someone's at the door. Can you hang on a
minute?"
"Sure."
The door buzzer sounded a second time. Henry went to the door and
opened it to find Carl, white-faced, holding the morning paper. "Come in,
Carl," he said anxiously, "What's the matter? You're looking a bit pale!" He
pulled at Carl's sleeve, and closed the door when Carl had stepped through.
"Sit down, mate. Excuse me—I've got Dad on the phone." He returned to the
instrument. "Dad? That was Carl, and I think he's seen what you were
referring to. He's got the paper and he's as white as a sheet!"
"Yes, I'm not surprised," Joel remarked, "but warn Carl to be on his
guard. Remember what they did to you. I don't think they've finished with
him."
"I will, thanks, Dad. Look—I'll, we'll come by later. Oh, wait a minute—
you brought us home last night, didn't you?"
"That's right."
"That means my car's over there... Oh, well, we'll take a taxi. Must see to
Carl. Thanks for ringing, Dad. See you later."
Henry replaced the phone and turned to Carl. His friend was sitting at
the table, his face in his hands. Henry got up and went to pick up the
newspaper which Carl had dropped on the floor next to his chair. He opened
it to page three and stared at it, stunned. He pulled out a chair and dropped
onto it. "Oh, brother! No wonder you're pale, Carl," he said, putting a hand
on Carl's shoulder.

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Carl lifted his head and looked at Henry, but said nothing. He didn't
know what to say.
A thought occurred to the pastor. "Oh dear!" he exclaimed, "I wonder if
Laura's seen them?"
There were two photographs on page three, breaking the pattern
mentioned by the man in the Courier office. One was of Carl at the
restaurant with Mandy leaning over suggestively, one hand on his arm. It
had been taken from behind them, but both Carl and Mandy were clearly
recognisable. The other picture was of Mandy kissing Carl. The captions
were aimed at undermining both Carl's and the Winters' reputations. There
was a headline at the top of the page: "Well-known Preacher Has a
Sweetheart in Goldridge."
Carl stood up and put his hands in his pockets. He walked over to the
lounge and stopped. He turned around and gazed at Henry without seeing
him. His blue eyes were full of pain. He took a few steps back towards the
table, then stopped again and sighed. "I wish Emma were here," he said so
softly it was almost a whisper, "Oh, I wish she were here."
"You wouldn't want your wife to see that, surely!" Henry exclaimed,
waving the paper.
"No, not really. It's too awful... But Emma would know what to do, you
know," Carl said, finally looking properly at Henry, "When I don't know what
to do she always seems to... And right now I don't know what to do."
"I'll tell you what to do right now. Sit down and I'll make you some
breakfast," Henry, suddenly feeling better, told him. After all Carl had done
for him, he could, for a change, do something for Carl. "How about a cup of
tea to start with?"
"I don't really want anything..."
"Sit down, anyway. I'll make us a cup of tea and some toast."
Carl sat down at the table, and Henry went out to the kitchen, taking the
paper with him. He folded it up, unlocked a drawer, added the newspaper to
a pile of papers in it, and locked the drawer again. The police might want
this sometime, he thought. Alf Greenstone and friends, the case against you
is growing...

!!!

No sooner had she seen the Courier than Alice had gone straight to the
Winters' home. James, his face ashen, opened the door. He was holding the
morning paper.
"Alice! Have you seen the paper?" he exclaimed.
"That's why I'm here!" Alice replied unblinkingly, "Has Laura seen it?"
"Not yet—I don't really want her to, either!"
"Well, we'd better show it to her, then," Alice said, taking James' arm and
heading for Laura's room.
James stopped her. "But, Alice, it'll get her terribly upset!"

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Alice looked at him soberly. "Would you rather Alf Greenstone showed it
to her, James? I know he visits her regularly!"
James went pale. Yes, Alf had made a point of visiting Laura at least once
a fortnight. He knew that Laura didn't like the man, but she had always
been very polite to him. Alf had published this! "I see what you mean, Alice,"
he said quietly, "All right, let's show it to her, then."
"Is Betty here?"
"Not yet. She usually gets here about eight, just as I'm leaving for work."
James opened the door to the bedroom and looked in. "Laura, are you
awake?" he asked, "Alice is here."
"Oh, do let her in, James," Laura answered, "But—she's awfully early,
isn't she?"
James let Alice through and followed her in. Alice went over to the bed
and gave Laura a hug and a kiss. "Good morning, Laura, how are you?" she
asked quietly.
"I'm quite well, Alice... But what's wrong with you, James?" Laura looked
beyond Alice to her husband.
"Laura, James has had a shock," Alice said matter-of-factly, "You're
about to get one, too. But I'd like you to know that it's all a lie, a horrible lie,
believe me."
She took the paper from James, who yielded it freely, opened it to page
three, and folded it back. Then she showed it to Laura.
James had come over to the bed when Alice had taken the paper, and
had put an arm around his wife's shoulders. The colour drained from
Laura's already-pale cheeks as she saw the photos of her daughter and Carl
and read the caption. "Oh, that poor man!" she gasped, "They're doing it to
him, too—just like they did to the others! And-And Mandy's helping them!"
She turned her face against James' shoulder and burst into tears.
James hugged her against him, his own eyes filling. Alice folded up the
paper and put it at the foot of the bed, and fetched some tissues to wipe
Laura's face. "Joel reckons this isn't the worst they can do to Carl," she said,
"I rang him when I saw the paper. He told me to come over to see you."
"What does he mean about 'the worst' they can do to Carl?" James asked.
"He reckons they're out to destroy Carl's reputation once and for all, for
their own reasons. He thinks the people behind this want more than just
Goldridge, and perhaps by attacking Carl, who's known all over the country,
they can achieve more of their goals. Carl had already told Joel and me
about the encounters with Mandy, yesterday evening. Little did he know...
One thing he did say is that he's quite sure Mandy is being used. Whether
she's being forced into it, or whether she's doing it willingly is another
question. Carl and Henry aim to find out."

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As Carl and Henry sat at the table having breakfast, the door buzzer
sounded again, several times in quick succession.
"Who can that be?" Henry muttered, getting up to go and open the door.
It was Kevin, looking very upset. From the door he couldn't see Carl, and
when Carl heard his voice he quietly moved further out of sight.
"Uh, sorry to disturb you, Henry," Kevin said, seeing that the pastor was
still in his night clothes, "but I was wondering if you could come over to our
house... Uh... You see, we've got Mandy Winters there, in such a state... I
thought seeing as you know her family, and you're their pastor... We've got
the doctor coming, too."
"Mandy Winters?" Henry exclaimed, "What's she doing at your place?"
"Her friends found her this morning, behind the church. They saw me
out in my garden, and seeing as they know me and Silvie, they came to get
me... Can you come?"
"Yes, yes, of course. Just have to get dressed," Henry answered, "Why
don't you go on back home. I'll be right over, soon's I get some togs on."
"Okay," Kevin said, relieved, "See you shortly."
He left and Henry shut the door. "Oh, brother," he said, sweeping his
hands through his hair over and over, "Did you hear that, Carl?"
"I heard," Carl replied grimly, "I'm not surprised. They've got what they
wanted out of her, so they've dumped her. I guess just this once I won't offer
to come along..."
"No. You'd better stay here. Stay put and lie low. I wouldn't put it past
them to try and blame you. I'll be back as soon as I can, and I think I'll ask
Dad and Alice to come here rather than us going there. Excuse me, I'd better
get dressed."
Henry went out to his room and came back shortly wearing slacks and a
sports shirt, his hair still dishevelled, his face unshaved. "I'll see you later,
Carl," he said as he went through the room, "Make yourself at home."
"Thanks, mate," Carl replied. He was clearing the table. "Go with the
Lord."
"Oh, bother!" Henry exclaimed loudly, startling Carl, "I've just
remembered my car's over at Dad's shop!" He looked undecided for a
moment, then he threw up his hands and opened the front door. "Oh, well,
I'll just have to walk," he said, looking at Carl and shrugging, "It's not far,
anyway, just round the corner. 'Bye." He went out, shutting the door behind
him.
He walked as fast as he could up Wattle Street, for he recalled that there
was a narrow laneway further up that crossed over between the houses to
Eucalyptus Street. He jogged along this, then hurried down towards Kevin's
house.
Mandy's friends were sitting on the grass in front of the house, looking
anxious. They stared at Henry as he walked up to the front door.

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