THE JOURNEY 

By Tessa Harvey

    Patrick was tamping down what passed as tobacco these days. For as long as Thomas could remember, his dad had smoked a pipe every day, but only in the evenings and usually outside on an old back door chair unless the weather was really bad.
    He struck a match on the side of his shoe. Thomas watched it flare as he had when he was small, mesmerised by the tiny dancing flame. The "tobacco" glowed and the older man drew on the pipe, grimacing slightly. Silently, Thomas resolved to buy him some decent tobacco when he could.
    "About my dream, dad?" he prompted. "God does not change the past to suit our people's wishes," Patrick began. "I have really prayed about this and feel God's heart was touched by your compassion for this wounded mother..,.." He paused. 
    "And," said Thomas.
    "I think God allowed you to see that she may have been rescued but you must pray also!"
    "Are we going to fetch Alice?" called out Josie, "or are you chaps going to talk all day?" She put her head around the door and smiled.

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