Jon Cleary - The Climate of Courage

The woman opposite leaned across. “I heard the other young soldier ask if you were Sergeant Morley. You’re the Victoria Cross winner, aren’t you? That’s the ribbon there, isn’t it? I saw your photo in the papers earlier in the week.”

“Yes,” said Greg, all at once wishing he had taken off his ribbon this morning and carried it in his pocket. He glanced at Sarah, expecting her to look bored, but she smiled at the woman opposite. She moved her arm, linking it in his, and he knew then she was only keeping up appearances. For a moment he was angry, then with a sense of fairness that had once been foreign to him, he realised she was doing it for his sake. He pressed her hand, but there was no answering pressure.

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