the war that saved my life - internet archive
TRANSCRIPT
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Bradley,KimberlyBrubaker.
Thewarthatsavedmylife/byKimberlyBrubakerBradley.
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Summary:AyoungdisabledgirlandherbrotherareevacuatedfromLondontotheEnglishcountrysideduringWorldWarII,wheretheyfindlifetobemuchsweeterawayfromtheirabusivemother.
ISBN978-1-101-63780-7
1.WorldWar,1939–1945—Evacuationofcivilians—GreatBritain—Juvenilefiction.
[1.WorldWar,1939–1945—Evacuationofcivilians—Fiction.
2.Peoplewithdisabilities—Fiction.3.Brothersandsisters—Fiction.
4.GreatBritain—History—GeorgeVI,1936–1952—Fiction.]I.Title.
PZ7.B7247War2015
[Fic]—dc23
2014002168
Thepublisherdoesnothaveanycontroloveranddoesnotassumeanyresponsibilityforauthororthird-partywebsitesortheircontent.
Version_1
Contents
TitlePage
Copyright
Dedication
ChapterOne
ChapterTwo
ChapterThree
ChapterFour
ChapterFive
ChapterSix
ChapterSeven
ChapterEight
ChapterNine
ChapterTen
ChapterEleven
ChapterTwelve
ChapterThirteen
ChapterFourteen
ChapterFifteen
ChapterSixteen
ChapterSeventeen
ChapterEighteen
ChapterNineteen
ChapterTwenty
ChapterTwenty-one
ChapterTwenty-two
ChapterTwenty-three
ChapterTwenty-four
ChapterTwenty-five
ChapterTwenty-six
ChapterTwenty-seven
ChapterTwenty-eight
ChapterTwenty-nine
ChapterThirty
ChapterThirty-one
ChapterThirty-two
ChapterThirty-three
ChapterThirty-four
ChapterThirty-five
ChapterThirty-six
ChapterThirty-seven
ChapterThirty-eight
ChapterThirty-nine
ChapterForty
ChapterForty-one
ChapterForty-two
ChapterForty-three
ChapterForty-four
ChapterForty-five
ChapterForty-six
“Ada!Getbackfromthatwindow!”Mam’svoice,shouting.Mam’sarm,grabbingmine,yankingmesoItoppledoffmychairandfellhardtothefloor.
“IwasonlysayinghellotoStephenWhite.”Iknewbetterthantotalkback,butsometimesmymouthwasfasterthanmybrain.I’dbecomeafighter,thatsummer.
Mamsmackedme.Hard.MyheadsnappedbackagainstthechairlegandforamomentIsawstars.“Don’tyoubetalkin’tonobody!”Mamsaid.“Iletyoulookoutthatwindowouta’thekindnessofmyheart,butI’llboarditoverifyougostickin’yournoseout,muchlesstalkin’toanyone!”
“Jamie’soutthere,”Imumbled.
“Andwhyshouldn’thebe?”Mamsaid.“Heain’tacripple.Notlikeyou.”
IclampedmylipsoverwhatImighthavesaidnext,andshookmyheadtoclearit.ThenIsawthesmearofbloodonthefloor.Oh,mercy.Ihadn’tcleaneditallupfromthisafternoon.IfMamsawit,she’dputtwoandtwotogether,fast.ThenI’dbeinthesoupforsure.Islidoveruntilmybottomcoveredthebloodstain,andIcurledmybadfootbeneathme.
“You’dbetterbemakingmytea,”Mamsaid.Shesatontheedgeofthebedandpeeledoffherstockings,wigglinghertwogoodfeetnearmyface.“I’mofftoworkinabit.”
“Yes,Mam.”Ipushedmywindowchairsidewaystohidetheblood.Icrawledacrossthefloor,keepingmyscabbed-overbadfootoutofMam’slineofsight.Ipulledmyselfontooursecondchair,litthegasring,andputthekettleon.
“Cutmesomebreadanddripping,”Mamsaid.“Getsomeforyourbrothertoo.”Shelaughed.“And,ifthere’sanyleft,youcanthrowitoutthewindow.SeeifStephenWhitewouldlikeyourdinner.How’dyoulikethat?”
Ididn’tsayanything.Icuttwothickslicesoffthebreadandshovedtherestbehindthesink.Jamiewouldn’tcomehomeuntilafterMamleftanyhow,andhe’dalwayssharewhateverfoodtherewaswithme.
WhentheteawasreadyMamcametogethermug.“Iseethatlookinyoureyes,mygirl,”shesaid.“Don’tstartthinkingyoucancrossme.You’relucky
Iputupwithyouasitis.You’venoideahowmuchworsethingscanbe.”
Ihadpouredmyselfamugofteatoo.Itookadeepswallow,andfeltthehotliquidscaldatrailcleardowntomygut.Mamwasn’tkidding.Butthen,neitherwasI.
Thereareallkindsofwars.
ThisstoryI’mtellingstartsoutfouryearsago,atthebeginningofthesummerof1939.EnglandstoodontheedgeofanotherGreatWarthen,thewarwe’reinthemiddleofnow.Mostpeoplewereafraid.Iwastenyearsold(thoughIdidn’tknowmyageatthetime),andwhileI’dheardofHitler—littlebitsandpiecesandswearwordsthatfloatedfromthelanetomythird-floorwindow—Iwasn’ttheleastconcernedabouthimoranyotherwarfoughtbetweennations.You’dthinkfromwhatI’vealreadytoldyouthatIwasatwarwithmymother,butmyfirstwar,theoneIwagedthatJune,wasbetweenmybrotherandme.
Jamiehadamopofdirt-brownhair,theeyesofanangel,andthesoulofanimp.Mamsaidhewassixyearsold,andwouldhavetostartschoolinthefall.Unlikeme,hehadstronglegs,andtwosoundfeetontheendsofthem.Heusedthemtorunawayfromme.
Idreadedbeingalone.
OurflatwasoneroomonthethirdfloorabovethepubwhereMamworkednights.InthemorningsMamsleptlate,anditwasmyjobtogetJamiesomethingtoeatandkeephimquietuntilshewasreadytowakeup.ThenMamusuallywentout,toshoportalktowomeninthelane;sometimesshetookJamiewithher,butmostlynot.IntheeveningsMamwenttowork,andIfedJamieteaandsangtohimandputhimtosleep,andI’dbeendoingallthatforaslongasIcouldremember,fromthedayswhenJamiestillworediapersandwastoosmalltousethepot.
Weplayedgamesandsangsongsandwatchedtheworldoutthewindow—theicemanandhiscart,therag-and-bonemanandhisshaggypony,themencominghomefromthedocksintheevenings,andthewomenhangingoutwashandtalkingonthestoops.Thechildrenofthelaneskippingropeandplayingtag.
Icouldhavegottendownthestairs,eventhen.Icouldhavecrawled,orscootedonmybottom.Iwasn’thelpless.ButtheonetimeIdidventureoutdoors,Mamfoundout,andbeatmeuntilmyshouldersbled.“You’renobbutadisgrace!”shescreamed.“Amonster,withthatuglyfoot!YouthinkIwanttheworldseeingmyshame?”Shethreatenedtoboardovermywindow
ifIwentdownstairsagain.Thatwasalwaysherthreattome.
Myrightfootwassmallandtwisted,sothatthebottompointedskyward,allthetoesintheair,andwhatshouldhavebeenthetoptouchedtheground.Theankledidn’tworkright,ofcourse,andithurtwheneverIputweightonit,soformostofmylifeIneverdid.Iwasgoodatcrawling.Ididn’tproteststayinginoneroomsolongasitheldbothJamieandme.ButasJamiegrewolderhewantedtobewiththeotherchildren,playinginthestreet.“Whyshouldn’the?”Mamsaid.“He’snormalenough.”ToJamieshesaid,“You’renotlikeAda.Youcangowhereveryoulike.”
“Hecan’t,”Isaid.“HehastostaywhereIcanseehim.”
Atfirsthedid,butthenhemadefriendswithagangofboysandwentrunningoutofsightallday.HecamehomewithstoriesaboutthedocksontheRiverThames,wherebigshipsunloadedcargofromaroundtheworld.Hetoldmeabouttrains,andwarehousesbiggerthanourwholeblockofflats.He’dseenSt.Mary’s,thechurchbywhosebellsImarkedtime.Asthesummerdaysgrewlongerhestayedoutlaterandlater,untilhecamehomehoursafterMamleft.Hewasgoneallthetime,andMamdidn’tcare.
Myroomwasaprison.Icouldhardlybeartheheatandthequietandtheemptiness.
ItriedeverythingtomakeJamiestay.Ibarredthedoorsohecouldn’tgetout,buthewasalreadystrongerthanme.IbeggedandpleadedwithMam.IthreatenedJamie,andthenonehotdayItiedhishandsandfeetwhilehewassleeping.Iwouldmakehimstaywithme.
Jamiewokeup.Hedidn’tscreamorshout.Hethrashedonce,andthenhelayhelpless,lookingatme.
Tearssliddownhischeeks.
IuntiedhimasquicklyasIcould.Ifeltlikeamonster.HehadaredmarkonhiswristfromwhereI’dpulledthestringtootight.
“Iwon’tdoitagain,”Isaid.“Ipromise.I’llneverdothatagain.”
Stillhistearsflowed.Iunderstood.InallmylifeI’dneverhurtJamie.I’dneverhithim,notonce.
NowI’dbecomelikeMam.
“I’llstayinside,”hewhispered.
“No,”Isaid.“No.Youdon’tneedto.Buthavesometeabeforeyouleave.”Igavehimamug,andapieceofbreadanddripping.Itwasjustthetwoofusthatmorning,MamgoneIdon’tknowwhere.IpattedJamie’shead,and
kissedthetopofit,andsanghimasong,anddidallIcouldtomakehimsmile.“Prettysoonyou’llbegoingtoschoolanyhow,”Isaid,astonishedthatIhadn’tfullyrealizedthisbefore.“You’llbegonealldaythen,butI’llbeokay.I’mgoingtofixthingssoI’llbeokay.”Icoaxedhimintogoingouttoplay,andIwavedtohimfromthewindow.
ThenIdidwhatIshouldhavedonetostartwith.Itaughtmyselftowalk.
IfIcouldwalk,maybeMamwouldn’tbesoashamedofme.Maybewecoulddisguisemycrippledfoot.MaybeIcouldleavetheroom,andstaywithJamie,oratleastgotohimifheneededme.
That’swhathappened,thoughnotthewayIthoughtitwould.Intheenditwasthecombinationofthetwo,theendofmylittlewaragainstJamie,andthestartofthebigwar,Hitler’swar,thatsetmefree.
Ibeganthatveryday.Ipulledmyselfuptotheseatofmychair,andIputbothfeetontothefloor.Mygoodleftfoot.Mybadrightone.Istraightenedmyknees,and,graspingthebackofthechair,Istood.
Iwantyoutounderstandwhattheproblemwas.Icouldstand,ofcourse.Icouldhop,one-footed,ifIwishedto.ButIwasfarfasteronmyhandsandknees,andourflatwassosmallthatIdidn’tbothertostandstraightveryoften.Mylegmuscles,particularlyinmyrightleg,weren’tusedtoit.Mybackfeltweak.Butallthatwassecondary.IftheonlythingI’dhadtodowasstandupright,Iwouldhavebeenfine.
TowalkIhadtoputmybadfoottotheground.Ihadtoputallmyweightonit,andpickmyotherfootofftheground,andnotfalldownfrommylackofbalanceorfromthesearingpain.
Istoodbythechairthatfirstday,wobbling.Islowlyshiftedsomeofmyweightfrommyleftfoottomyright.Igasped.
Maybeitwouldn’thavebeensobadifI’dbeenwalkingallalong.Maybethelittlecurled-upbonesinmyanklewouldhavebeenusedtoit.Maybethethinskincoveringthemwouldhavebeentougher.
Maybe.ButI’dneverknow,andnoneofthisstandingbusinesswasgettingmeanyclosertoJamie.Iletgoofthechair.Iswungmybadfootout.Ipushedmybodyforward.Painstabbedmyanklelikeaknife.Ifelldown.
Up.Grabthechair.Steadymyself.Stepforward.Falldown.Up.Tryagain.Goodfootforwardfirstthistime.Aquickgasp,aswingingofthebadfoot,andthen—crash.
Theskinonthebottomofmybadfootripped.Bloodsmearedacrossthefloor.Afterawhile,Icouldn’ttakeitanymore.Idroppedtomyknees,shaking,andIgotaragandwipedupthemess.
Thatwasthefirstday.Theseconddaywasworse.Theseconddaymygoodfootandleghurttoo.Itwashardtostraightenmylegs.Ihadbruisesonmykneesfromfalling,andthesoresonmybadfoothadn’thealed.TheseconddayallIdidwasstand,holdingthechair.IstoodwhileIlookedoutmywindow.Ipracticedmovingmyweightfromonefoottotheother.ThenIlaydownonthebedandsobbedfromthehurtandfromexhaustion.
Ikeptitsecret,ofcourse.Ididn’twantMamtoknowuntilIwasgoodatwalking,andIdidn’ttrustJamienottotellher.IsupposeIcouldhaveshoutedthenewsdowntothestreet,butwhatgoodwouldthathavedone?Iwatchedpeopleoutmywindoweveryday,andsometimesIdidspeaktothem,butwhiletheyoftenwaved,andevensaid,“Hello,Ada!”theyalmostneverreallytriedtospeaktome.
MaybeMamwouldsmileatme.Maybeshe’dsay,“Aren’tyouclever,then?”
InmymindIwentfurther.Afterahardday,whenIwasholdingmylegonthebedandshakingfromtheeffortofnotcryingmore,IthoughtofMamtakingmyhandtohelpmewalkdownthestairs.Ithoughtofherleadingmeoutonthestreet,sayingtoeveryone,“ThisisAda.Thisismydaughter.See,she’snotsohopelessaswethought.”
Shewasmymother,afterall.
Iimaginedhelpingwiththeshopping.Iimaginedgoingtoschool.
“Tellmeeverything,”IsaidtoJamie,lateatnight.Iheldhimonmylapneartheopenwindow.“Whatdidyouseetoday?Whatdidyoulearn?”
“Iwentintoashoplikeyouaskedme,”Jamiesaid.“Fruitshop.Fruiteverywhere.Piledupontables,like.”
“Whatkindoffruit?”
“Oh—apples.Andsomelikeapples,butnotquite.Androundthingsthatwereorangeandshiny,andsomethatweregreen—”
“You’vegottolearnthenamesofthem,”Itoldhim.
“Can’t,”Jamiesaid.“Whentheshopmansawmehechasedmeout.Saidhedidn’tneeddirtybeggarsstealin’hisfruit,andheranmeoffwithabroom.”
“Oh,Jamie.You’renotadirtybeggar.”Wehadbathssometimes,whenMamgottodislikingthewaywesmelled.“Andyouwouldn’tsteal.”
“’CourseIwould,”Jamiesaid.Heputhishandinsidehisshirtandpulledoutoneofthenot-quite-apples,lumpyandyellowandsoft.Itwasapear,thoughwedidn’tknowitthen.Whenwebitintoit,juicerandownourchins.
I’dnevertastedanythingsogood.
Jamieswipedatomatothenextday,butthedayafterthathegotcaughttryingtotakeachopfromabutcher’sshop.Thebutcherwallopedhim,right
onthestreet,andthenmarchedhimhometoMamandtoldheroff.MamsnatchedJamiebytheneckandwallopedhimherself.“Youidiot!Stealin’sweetsisonething!Whatwereyouwantingwithachop?”
“Ada’shungry,”Jamiesobbed.
Iwashungry.Walkingwassomuchwork,Iwasalwayshungrynow.Butitwasthewrongthingtosay,andJamieknewit.Isawhiseyeswiden,afraid.
“Ada!Ishouldhaveknown!”Mamwheeledtowardme.“Teachingyourbrothertostealforyou?Worthlessrunt!”Shebackhandedme.Ihadbeensittingonmychair.Withoutthinking,Ijumpeduptododgetheblow.
Iwascaught.Icouldn’ttakeastep,notwithoutgivingawaymysecret.ButMamstaredatmewithaglitteringeye.“Gettingtoobigforyourbritches,ain’tyou?”shesaid.“Getdownonyourkneesandgetintothatcabinet.”
“No,Mam,”Isaid,sinkingtothefloor.“No.Please.”
Thecabinetwasacubbyunderthesink.Thepipedrippedsometimes,sothecabinetwasalwaysdampandsmelly.Worse,roacheslivedthere.Ididn’tmindroachesoutintheopensomuch.Icouldsmashthemwithapieceofpaperandthrowtheirbodiesoutthewindow.Inthecabinet,inthedark,Icouldn’tsmashthem.Theyswarmedalloverme.Onceonecrawledintomyear.
“Inyougo,”Mamsaid,smiling.
“I’llgo,”Jamiesaid.“Inickedthechop.”
“Adagoes,”Mamsaid.SheturnedherslowsmiletowardJamie.“Adaspendsthenightinthecabinet,anytimeIcatchyoustealin’again.”
“Notthewholenight,”Iwhispered,butofcourseitwas.
WhenthingsgotreallybadIcouldgoawayinsidemyhead.I’dalwaysknownhowtodoit.Icouldbeanywhere,onmychairorinthecabinet,andIwouldn’tbeabletoseeanythingorhearanythingorevenfeelanything.Iwouldjustbegone.
Itwasagoodthing,butitdidn’thappenfastenough.Thefirstfewminutesinthecabinetweretheworst.Andthen,lateron,mybodystartedhurtingfrombeingsocramped.IwasbiggerthanIusedtobe.
Inthemorning,whenMamletmeout,Ifeltdazedandsick.WhenIstraightened,painshotthroughme,crampingpainsandpinsandneedlesdownmylegsandarms.Ilayonthefloor.Mamlookeddownatme.“Letthatbealessontoyou,”shesaid.“Don’tbegettingaboveyourself,mygirl.”
IknewMamhadguessedatleastpartofmysecret.Iwasgettingstronger.Shedidn’tlikeit.AssoonasshewentoutIgottomyfeet,andImademyselfwalkallthewayacrosstheroom.
ItwaslateAugustalready.Iknewitwouldn’tbelongbeforeJamiestartedschool.Iwasn’tasafraidofJamieleavingasIhadbeen,butIwasdreadingbeingalonesomuchwithMam.ButthatdayJamiecamehomeearly,lookingupset.“BillyWhitesaysallthekidsisleaving,”hesaid.
BillyWhitewasStephenWhite’slittlebrother,andJamie’sbestfriend.
Mamwasgettingreadyforwork.Sheleanedovertotiehershoes,gruntingasshesatbackup.“Sotheysay.”
“Whatdoyoumean,leaving?”Iasked.
“LeavingLondon,”Mamsaid,“onaccountofHitler,andhisbombs.”Shelookedup,atJamie,notme.“Whattheysayisthatthecity’sgoingtobebombed,soallthekidsoughttobesenttothecountry,outofharm’sway.Ihadn’tdecidedwhethertosendyou.SupposeImight.Cheaper,onelessmouthtofeed.”
“Whatbombs?”Iasked.“Whatcountry?”
Mamignoredme.
Jamieslidontoachairandswunghisfeetagainsttherungs.Helookedverysmall.“Billysaysthey’releavingonFriday.”Thatwastwodaysfromnow.“Hismam’sbuyinghimallnewclothes.”
Mamsaid,“Iain’tgotmoneyfornewclothes.”
“Whataboutme?”MyvoicecameoutsmallerthanIliked.“AmIgoing?Whataboutme?”
Mamstilldidn’tlookatme.“’Coursenot.They’resendingkidstolivewithnicepeople.Who’dwantyou?Nobody,that’swho.Nicepeopledon’twanttolookatthatfoot.”
“Icouldstaywithnastypeople,”Isaid.“Wouldn’tbeanydifferentthanlivinghere.”
Isawtheslapcoming,butdidn’tduckfastenough.“Noneofyoursass,”shesaid.Hermouthtwistedintothesmilethatmademyinsidesclench.“Youcan’tleave.Youneverwill.You’restuckhere,righthereinthisroom,bombsorno.”
Jamie’sfacewentpale.Heopenedhismouthtosaysomething,butIshookmyheadathim,hard,andhecloseditagain.WhenMamlefthelaunchedhimselfintomyarms.“Don’tworry,”Isaid,rockinghim.Ididn’tfeel
frightened.Ifeltgrateful,thatI’dspentmysummerthewayIhad.“Youfindoutwherewehavetogoandwhattimewehavetobethere,”Isaid.“We’releavingtogether,weare.”
IntheweehoursofFridaymorning,IstoleMam’sshoes.
Ihadto.Theyweretheonlyshoesintheflat,otherthanJamie’scanvasshoes,whichweretoosmallevenformybadfoot.Mam’sshoesweretoobig,butIstuffedthetoeswithpaper.Iwrappedaragaroundmybadfoot.Itiedthelacestight.Theshoesfeltstrange,butIthoughttheywouldprobablystayon.
Jamielookedatmeinamazement.“I’vegottotakethem,”Iwhispered.“Otherwisepeople’llseemyfoot.”
Hesaid,“You’restanding.You’rewalking.”
Mybigmoment,andnowIhardlycared.Therewastoomuchaheadofme.“Yes,”Isaid.“Iam.”IglancedatMam,wholayonthebed,snoring,herbacktous.Proudofme?Notbloodylikely.
Isliddownthestairsonmybottom.AttheendofthemJamiehelpedmeup,andwesetouttogetherintothesilentearly-morningstreets.Onestep,Ithought.Onestepatatime.
Itwasinterestingtobeatgroundlevel.Thelightwastingedpink,andafaintbluehazeseemedtoriseoffthebuildings,sothateverythingseemedprettierthanitdidlaterintheday.Acatstreakedaroundacorner,chasingsomething,probablyarat.Otherthanthecat,thestreetwasempty.
IheldJamie’shandonmyrightside,forsupport.InmyleftIhadapaperbagwithfoodinit,forbreakfast.Jamiesaidweweresupposedtobeathisschoolatnineo’clockinthemorning,hoursahead,butI’dfiguredtheearlierwegotaway,thebetter.Ididn’tknowhowlongitwouldtakemetogettotheschool.Ididn’twantpeopletostare.
Thestreetwasbumpy,whichIhadn’trealizedfrommywindow.Walkingwasharderthaninourflat.Theshoehelped,butbythetimeI’dmadeittotheendofthelane,myfoothurtsobadlyIdidn’tthinkIcouldtakeasinglestepfurther.ButIdid.
“Turnhere,”Jamiewhispered.“It’snotfar.”
Anotherstep,andmybadfoottwisted.Ifell,gasping.Jamiekneltbesideme.“Youcouldcrawl,”hesaid.“S’nobodywatching.”
“Howmuchfarther?”Iaskedhim.
“Threeblocks,”hesaid.Headded,“Blocksisthebuildingsinbetweenthestreets.We’vegottocrossthreemorestreets.”
Imeasuredthedistancewithmyeyes.Threestreets.Mightaswellhavebeenthreemiles.Threehundredmiles.“SupposeI’llcrawlabit,”Isaid.
Butcrawlingonthestreetwasalotharderthancrawlinginourflat.Mykneeswerecalloused,ofcourse,butthestoneshurt,andthetrashandmudweren’tpleasanteither.AfterablockItookJamie’shandandhauledmyselfupright.
“Howcomeyoudon’twalk,whenyoucan?”Jamieasked.
“It’snew,”Isaid.“Ilearneditthissummer,whileyouwereout.”
Henodded.“Iwon’ttell,”hesaid.
“Doesn’tmatter,”Isaid.Alreadytheworldseemedhugetome.IfIlookedupatthetopsofthebuildingsIfeltdizzy.“We’regoingtothecountry.NobodymindsifIwalkthere.”Ofcoursethatwasalie.Ididn’tknowanythingaboutwhereweweregoing.Ididn’treallyevenknowwhatthewordcountrymeant.ButJamiegrippedmyhandtighter,andsmiled.
Theschoolwasabrickbuildingwithanemptyyardsurroundedbyametalfence.WemadeitinsideandIcollapsed.Weatebreaddippedinsugar.Itwasgood.
“DidyoutakeMam’ssugar?”Jamieasked,wide-eyed.
Inodded.“Allofit,”Isaid,andwelaughedoutloud.
Theairwaschillynowthatweweren’tmoving,andthegroundfeltdamp.Theroarofpaininmyanklesubsidedintoadeepthrobbingache.Ilookedupatalltheunfamiliarbuildings,thescrollsandfancybrickwork,theshingles,thewindowframes,thebirds.Ididn’tnoticethewomanwalkingacrosstheyarduntilJamiepokedme.
Shesmiledatus.“You’rehereearly,”shesaid.
Oneoftheteachers,Isupposed.Inoddedandgaveherabigsmileinreturn.“Ourdaddroppedusoff,beforehehadtogotowork,”Isaid.“Hesaidyou’dtakegoodcareofus.”
Thewomannodded.“AndsoIwill,”shesaid.“Wouldyoulikesometea?”
Whenwegotup,ofcourseshenoticedmylimp.Limp,nothing,Iwasstaggering,luckytohaveJamietocatchme.“Youpoorthing,”shesaid.
“What’swrong?”
“Ihurtit,”Isaid.“Justthismorning.”Whichwastrueenough.
“Willyouletmelookatit?”sheasked.
“Oh,no,”Isaid,forcingmyselftokeepmoving.“It’sgettingbetteralready.”
Afterthatitwaseasy.ItwasthemostimpossiblethingI’deverdone,butitwasalsoeasy.IheldontoJamie,andIkeptmovingforward.Theyardfilledwithchildrenandteachers,theteachersorganizedusintolines.Iwouldn’thavebeenabletowalkthehalfmiletothetrainstation—Iwasmostlydonein—butsuddenlyinfrontofmewasafaceIrecognized.“Thatyou,Ada?”saidStephenWhite.
HewastheoldestoftheWhitechildren;therewerethreegirlsbetweenStephenandBilly.Thewholebunchofthemhadpulledupandwerestaringatme.They’dneverseenmeotherthanthroughmywindow.
“It’sme,”Isaid.
Stephenlookedsurprised.“Ididn’tthinkyou’dbecoming,”hesaid.“Imean,ofcourseyou’vegottogetoutofLondon,butourmamsaidtheyhadspecialplacesforpeoplelikeyou.”
Mymamhadn’tsaidanythingaboutspecialplaces.Isaid,“What’dyamean,‘peoplelikeme’?”
Stephenlookedattheground.Hewastallerthanme,older,Ifigured,butnotbymuch.“Youknow,”hesaid.
Iknew.“Cripples,”Isaid.
Helookedbackatmyface,startled.“No,”hesaid.“Simple.Notrightinthehead.That’swhateverybodysays.”Hesaid,“Ididn’tevenknowyoucouldtalk.”
IthoughtofallthetimeIspentatmywindow.Isaid,“Italktoyouallthetime.”
“Iknowyouwaveandjibber-jabber,but”—helookedprettyuncomfortablenow—“wecan’teverreallyhearyou,downonthestreet.Wecan’tmakeoutwhatyou’resaying.Ididn’tknowyoucouldtalknormal.Andyourmamsaysashowyou’vegottobekeptlockedup,foryourowngood.”Forthefirsttime,helookedatmyfeet.“You’reacripple?”
Inodded.
“How’dyougethere?”
“Walked,”Isaid.“Icouldn’tletJamiegoalone.”
“Wasithard?”heasked.
Isaid,“Yes.”
Anoddexpressionpassedoverhisface,oneIdidn’tunderstandatall.“Everyonefeelssorryforyourmam,”hesaid.
TherewasnothingIcouldsaytothat.
Stephensaid,“Sheknowyou’regone?”
Iwouldhavelied,butJamiepipedup,“No.ShesaidAdawasgoingtogetbombed.”
Stephennodded.“Don’tworryaboutwalkingtothestation,”hesaid.“I’llgiveyouaride.”
Ididn’tknowwhathemeant,butoneofhislittlesisterssmiledupatme.“Hegivesmerides,”shesaid.
Ismiledback.SheremindedmeofJamie.“Okay,then,”Isaid.
SoStephenWhitepiggy-backedmetothestation.Theteacherthathadgivenmeteathankedhimforhelping.Wemarchedinalongline,andtheteachersmadeussing“There’llAlwaysBeanEngland.”Finallywegottothestation,whichwasoverflowingwithmorechildrenthanIknewexistedintheworld.
“Canyougetontothetrainallright?”Stephenasked,settingmedown.
IgrabbedJamie’sshoulder.“’CourseIcan.”
Stephennodded.HestartedtoherdBillyandhissistersintoagroup,butthenheturnedbacktome.“Howcomeshekeepsyoulockedup,ifyou’renotsimple?”
“Becauseofmyfoot,”Isaid.
Heshookhishead.“That’scrazy,”hesaid.
“It’sbecause—becauseofwhateverIdid,tomakemyfootlikethat—”
Heshookhisheadagain.“Crazy.”
Istaredathim.Crazy?
Theteachersstartedyellingthen,andweallclimbedontothetrain.Beforethenoonchurchbellsrang,thetrainbegantomove.
We’descaped.Mam,Hitler’sbombs,myone-roomprison.Everything.
Thetrainwasmiserable,ofcourse.Mostofthechildrenweren’tgladtobeleavinglikeIwas.Somecried,andonegotsickinthecornerofthecar.Theteacherassignedtoourcarflutteredaround,tryingtocleanupthemessandstopboysfromfightingandexplainforthethirdortenthorhundredthtimethatno,thereweren’tanyloosonthiscar,wewouldjusthavetoholdit,andno,shedidn’tknowhowmuchlonger,nooneevenknewwherethetrainwasgoing,muchlesshowlongitwouldtake.
Noloos,nothingtodrink,andwe’deatenallourbread.IpouredsugarontoJamie’shandandhelickedatit,likeacat.Meanwhiletheworldmovedoutsidethewindows,fasterandfaster.IfIletmyeyesunfocus,thesceneblurredandranpastme.IfIlookedhardatonethingitstoodstillwhileImovedmyhead,anditbecameclearthetrainwasmoving,nottheworld.
Thebuildingsendedandsuddenlytherewasgreen.Greeneverywhere.Bright,vibrant,astonishinggreen,floatingintotheairtowardtheblue,bluesky.Istared,mesmerized.“What’sthat?”
“Grass,”Jamiesaid.
“Grass?”Heknewaboutthisgreen?Therewasn’tanygrassonourlane,nornothinglikeitthatI’deverseen.Iknewgreenfromclothingorcabbages,notfromfields.
Jamienodded.“It’sontheground.Spikeystuff,butsoft,notprickly.There’sgrassinthechurchyard.Roundtheheadstones.Andtrees,likethatoverthere.”Hepointedoutthewindow.
Treesweretallandthin,likestalksofcelery,onlygiant-sized.Burstsofgreenontop.“Whenwereyouinachurchyard?”Iasked.What’sachurchyard?Imighthaveaskednext.TherewasnoendtothethingsIdidn’tknow.
Jamieshrugged.“St.Mary’s.Playingleapfrogonthetombstones.Rectorchasedusout.”
Iwatchedthegreenuntilitstartedtoblur.I’dbeenuphalfthenight,makingsurewedidn’toversleep,andnowmyeyelidsbegantosettle,lowerandlower,untilJamiewhispered,“Ada.Ada,look.”
Agirlonaponywasracingthetrain.Shewasactuallyontopofthepony,
sittingonitsback,herlegshangingoneoffeachside.Sheheldbitsofstringorsomethinginherhands,andthestringswereattachedtothepony’shead.Thegirlwaslaughing,herfacewideopenwithjoy,anditwascleareventomethatshemeanttobeonthepony.Shewasdirectingthepony,tellingitwhattodo.Ridingthepony.Andtheponywasrunninghard.
Iknewponiesfromthelanebuthadonlyseenthempullcarts.Ihadn’tknownyoucouldridethem.Ihadn’tknowntheycouldgosofast.
Thegirlleanedforwardagainstthepony’sflyingmane.Herlipsmovedasthoughshewasshoutingsomething.Herlegsthumpedthepony’ssides,andtheponysurgedforward,faster,brownlegsflying,eyesbright.Theyranalongsidethetrainasitcurvedaroundtheirfield.
Isawastonewallaheadofthem.Igasped.Theyweregoingtohitit.Theyweregoingtobehurt.Whydidn’tshestopthepony?
Theyjumpedit.Theyjumpedthestonewall,andkeptrunning,whilethetraintracksturnedawayfromtheirfield.
SuddenlyIcouldfeelit,therunning,thejump.Thesmoothness,theflying—Irecognizeditwithmywholebody,asthoughitwassomethingI’ddoneahundredtimesbefore.SomethingIlovedtodo.Itappedthewindow.“I’mgoingtodothat,”Isaid.
Jamielaughed.
“Whynot?”Isaidtohim.
“Youwalkprettygood,”hesaid.
Ididn’ttellhimthatmyfoothurtsobadIwasn’tsureI’deverwalkagain.“Yes,”Isaid.“Ido.”
Thedaygotworse.Itwasboundto.Thetrainstoppedandstartedandstoppedagain.Hotsunpouredthroughthewindowsuntiltheairseemedtocurdle.Smallchildrencried.Biggeronesfought.
Finallywestoppedataquay,butabossywomanstandingtherewouldn’tletusout.Shearguedwiththeheadteacher,andthenwithalltheotherteachers,andthenevenwiththemanrunningthetrain.Theteacherssaidwehadtobeletout,fortheloveofmercy,butthewoman,whohadafacelikeironandauniformlikeasoldier’s,onlywithaskirt,thumpedherclipboardandrefused.
“I’mtoexpectseventymotherswithinfantchildren,”shesaid.“Nottwohundredschoolchildren.Itsaysso,here.”
“Idon’tcareintheleastwhat’swrittenonyourpaper,”theheadteacherspatback.
Theteachersupervisingourcarshookherheadandopenedthedoor.“Out,allofyou,”shesaidtous.“Loosareinthestation.We’llfindyousomethingtodrinkandeat.Outyougo.”
Outwewent,inathunderingherd.Theotherteachersfollowed,openingthedoorstotheircars.Theiron-facedwomanscowledandbarkedorderseveryoneignored.
ItwasmorenoiseandrushthanI’deverseen.Itwasbetterthanfireworks.
Jamiehelpedmeoffthetrain.Ifeltstiffallover,andIhadtogosomethingdesperate.“Showmehowtousetheloo,”Itoldhim.Soundsfunny,butitwasmyfirstrealloo.Athomeourflatsharedtheonedownthehall,butIjustusedabucketandMamorJamieemptiedit.
“IthinkIgottausetheboys’one,”Jamiesaid.
“Whatdoyoumean,theboys’one?”
“See?”Hepointedattwodoors.Sureenough,alltheboysweregoingthroughonedoor,thegirlsthroughanother.Onlynowlinessnakedoutthedoors.
“Tellmewhattodo,then.”
“Youpeeinit,andthenyouflush,”hesaid.
“What’sflush?HowdoIflush?”
“There’sahandle,like,andyoupushitdown.”
IwaitedmyturnandthenIwentinandfigureditout,eventheflushing.Thereweresinks,andIsplashedwaterontomyhotface.Agirlrightinfrontofme—theshabbiest,nastiest-lookinggirlI’deverseen—wasusingasinkinfrontofmysink,whichseemedodd.Ifrownedather,andshefrownedback.
AllofasuddenIrealizedIwaslookinginamirror.
Mamhadamirror.IthunghighonthewallandIneverbotheredwithit.Istaredintothisone,appalled.I’dassumedIlookedlikealltheothergirls.Butmyhairwasclumpy,notsmooth.Myskinwaspalerthantheirs,milky-white,exceptitalsolookedrathergray,especiallyaroundmyneck.Thedirtycallusesonmykneesstoodoutbeneathmyfadedskirt,whichsuddenlyseemedgrubbyandtoosmall.
WhatcouldIdo?Itookadeepbreathandstaggeredout.Jamiewaswaiting.Ilookedhimoverwithnewlycriticaleyes.Hewasdirtierthantheotherboystoo.Hisshirthadfadedintoanindeterminatecolorandhisfingernailswererimmedinblack.
“Weshouldhavehadbaths,”Isaid.
Jamieshrugged.“Doesn’tmatter.”
Butitdid.
Athome,whenIlookedoutmywindowontothelane,acrossthestreet,threebuildingstotheleft,onthecorner,Icouldseeafishmonger’sshop.Theygotfishdeliveredeverymorning,andlaiditoutforsaleonathickcoolpieceofstone.Inthesummerheat,fishcouldgoofffast,sowomenknewtopickthroughtheselectioncarefullyandchoseonlythefreshestandthebest.
That’swhatwechildrenwere:fishonaslab.Theteachersherdedusdownthestreetintoabigbuildingandlinedusupagainstonewall.Menandwomenfromthevillagefiledpast,lookingtoseeifweweresweetandprettyandwholesomeenoughtotakehome.
Thattheydidn’tthinkmanyofusweregoodvaluewasclearfromtheexpressionsontheirfacesandthethingstheysaid.
“GoodLord,”onewomansaid,reelingawayfromsniffingalittlegirl’shair.“They’refilthy!”
“They’llwash,”theiron-facedwomansaid.Shedirectedoperationsfromthecenteroftheroom,clipboardstillinhand.“Weneedtobegenerous.We
didn’texpectsomany.We’vegottodoourbit.”
“Mybitdon’textendtoapackofdirtystreetrats,”anoldmanretorted.“Thislotlookslikethey’llmurderusinourbeds.”
“They’rechildren,”theiron-facedwomanreplied.“It’snottheirfaultwhattheylooklike.”
Ilookedaround.Thevillagegirlshandingroundcupsofteaweresortofshinybright,withribbonsintheirhair.Theylookedliketheywouldsmellnice.
“Maybenot,”anotherwomansaid.“Butthey’renotmuchlikeourchildren,arethey?”
Theiron-facedwomanopenedhermouthtoargue,thenshutitwithoutsayingaword.Whateverwewere,weweren’tliketheirchildren,thatmuchwasclear.
“Ada,”Jamiewhispered,“nobodywantsyouandme.”
Itwastrue.Thecrowdwasthinningout.Fewerandfewerchildrenremained.Theteacherspushedustogetherandsaidnicethingsaboutus.Theiron-facedwomancajoledtheremainingvillagers.
Ablue-hairedoldwomanputherhandonJamie’sarm.“Iwon’ttakethegirl,”shesaid,“butIsupposeIcouldmanagethelittleboy.”
“Youdon’twanthim,”Isaid.“Hesteals.Andbites.Andwithoutmetomanagehimhemightgobacktohavingfits.”
Thewoman’smouthdroppedintoasoundlessO.Shescuttledaway,andwentoffwithsomebodyelse’sbrother.
Andthenthehallwasempty,savetheteachers,theironwoman,Jamie,andme.Mamhadbeenright.Noonewouldhaveus.Weweretheonlyonesnotchosen.
“You’renottoworry,”theiron-facedwomansaid,whichwasperhapsthemostridiculouslieI’deverheard.Shethumpedherclipboard.“I’vegottheperfectplaceforyou.”
“Aretheynice?”Jamieasked.
“It’sasinglelady,”thewomanreplied.“She’sverynice.”
Jamieshookhishead.“Mamsaysnicepeoplewon’thaveus.”
Thecorneroftheiron-facedwoman’smouthtwitched.“Sheisn’tthatnice,”shesaid.“Plus,I’mthebilletingofficer.It’snotforhertodecide.”
Thatmeanttheladycouldbeforcedtotakeus.Good.Ishiftedmyweightoffmybadfootandgasped.IcouldgetusedtothepainwhileIwasstandingstill,butmovingmadeeverythingsomuchworse.
“Canyouwalk?”theiron-facedwomanasked.“Whatdidyoudotoyourfoot?”
“Abrewer’scartranoverit,”Isaid,“butit’sfine.”
“Whydon’tyouhavecrutches?”sheasked.
SinceIdidn’tknowwhatcrutcheswere,Icouldonlyshrug.Istartedtowalkacrosstheroom,buttomyhorrormyfootgaveway.Ifellontothewoodenfloor.Ibitmyliptokeepfromscreaming.
“Oh,forheaven’ssake,”theiron-facedwomansaid.Shekneltdown.Iexpectedhertoyell,orhaulmetomyfeet,butinstead—thiswasevenworsethanfallinginthefirstplace—sheputherarmsaroundmeandliftedmeoffthefloor.Carriedme.“Hurryup,”shesaidtoJamie.
Outside,shedepositedmeintothebackseatofanautomobile.Anactualautomobile.Jamieclimbedinbesideme,wide-eyed.Thewomanslammedthepassengerdoor,andthenshegotintothedriver’sseatandstartedtheengine.“It’llonlybeaminute,”shesaid,lookingbackatus.“Itreallyisn’tfar.”
Jamietouchedtheshinywoodbeneaththewindowbesidehim.“’Sokay,”hesaid,grinning.“Takeyourtime.Wedon’tmind.”
Thehouselookedasleep.
Itsatattheveryendofaquietdirtlane.Treesgrewalongbothsidesofthelane,andtheirtopsmetoveritsothatthelanewasshadowedingreen.Thehousesatpushedbackfromthetrees,inasmallpoolofsunlight,butvinessnakeduptheredbrickchimneyandbushesranrampantaroundthewindows.Asmallroofshelteredadoorpaintedred,likethechimney,butthehouseitselfwasaflatgray,dullbehindthebushes.Curtainsweredrawnoverthewindowsandthedoorwasshuttight.
Theiron-facedwomanmadeaclickingsoundasthoughannoyed.Shepulledthecartoastopandcuttheengine.“Waithere,”shecommanded.Shepoundedafistagainstthereddoor.Whennothinghappened,shebarked,“MissSmith!”andafterafewmoremomentsofnothing,sheturnedtheknobandsteppedinside.
InudgedJamie.“Golisten.”
Hestoodbytheopendoorforafewminutes,thencameback.“They’refighting,”hesaid.“Theladydoesn’twantus.Shesaysshedidn’tknowthewarwason.”
IwasnotsurprisedthatMissSmithdidn’twantus,butIhadahardtimebelievinganyonedidn’tknowaboutthewar.MissSmithwaseitherlying,ordumbasabrick.
Ishrugged.“Wecangosomewhereelse.”
TheinstantIsaidthat,everythingchanged.Totherightsideofthesleepinghouseabrightyellowponyputitsheadthroughthebushesandstaredatme.
Icouldseethatitwasstandingbehindalowstonewall.Ithadawhitestripedownitsnoseanddarkbrowneyes.Itprickeditsearsforwardandmadealowwhickerysound.
IpokedJamie,andpointed.ItwaslikesomethingI’dimaginedcometrue.IfeltagaininmygutthefeelingI’dhadonthetrainwhenI’dseenthegallopingponyandthegirl.
Jamiewhispered,“Doeshelivehere?”
Iwasalreadyclimbingoutofthecar.Iftheponydidn’tlivewithMissSmith,itatleastlivednextdoor,andwhereveritwas,Iwasstayingtoo.Itriedtotakeastep,butmyfootwouldn’tallowit.IpulledJamieover.“Helpme,”Isaid.
“Tothepony?”
“No.Tothehouse.”Westumbledupthestonestepandthroughthereddoor.Inside,thehousefeltdarkandclose.Theairsmelledtingly.Theroomweenteredwasfullofoddthickfurniture,allcoveredwithdarkpurplecloth.
Thewallsweredarkcolors,inpatterns,andsowasthefloor.Apale,thinwomanwearingablackdresssatononeofthepurplechairs,veryuprightandrigid,andtheiron-facedwoman,equallyrigid,satacrossfromher.Thepalewoman—MissSmith—hadbrightredspotsonhercheeks.Herhairbillowedaroundherthinfacelikeafrizzyyellowcloud.“...don’tknowathingaboutthem,”shewassaying.
“Heretheyare!”theiron-facedwomansaid.“Thegirl’shurtherfoot.Children,thisisMissSusanSmith.MissSmith,thisis...”Shepaused,andlookeddownatus,puzzled.Theotherchildrenonthetrainhadhadnametags,butnotus.“What’reyournames?”
Ipaused.Icouldhaveanewname,here.IcouldcallmyselfElizabeth,liketheprincess.Heck,IcouldcallmyselfHitler.They’dneverknow.
“Adaan’Jamie,”Jamiesaid.
“AdaandJamiewhat?”theironwomansaid.“What’syourlastname?”
“Hitler,”Isaid.
Jamieshotalookatmeandsaidnothing.
“Don’tbeimpudent,”theironwomanscolded.
“Can’t,”Isaid.“Idon’tknowwhatthatmeans.”
“Itmeansyourname’snotHitler,”thewomansaid.“TellMissSmithyourlastname.”
“Smith,”Isaid.“AdaandJamieSmith.”
Theironwoman,exasperated,hissedbetweenherteeth.“Oh,really!Well,itdoesn’tmatter.”SheturnedtoMissSmith.“Theteacherswillhavethemontheirrecords.I’llinquire.Meanwhile,I’vegottogo.It’sbeenaverylongday.”Shestoodup.Isatdownfirmlyonthechairclosesttothedoor.Jamiedartedintoanother.
“Good-bye,”Isaidtotheironwoman.
“Ilikeyourautomobile,”Jamietoldher.
“Now,really,”MissSmithsaid.Shegottoherfeetandfollowedtheiron-facedwomanoutofthehouse.Theyarguedforseveralmoreminutes,butIalreadyknewwhowouldwin.Theiron-facedwomanwasn’tgoingtoletherselfbebeatentwiceinoneday.
Sureenough,theautomobileroaredaway.MissSmithmarchedbackintotheroom,lookingfiercelyangry.“Idon’tknowathingabouttakingcareofchildren,”shesaid.
MissSmithsawalouseinmyhairthathadnotbeentherebeforethecrowdedtrainride,notthatwhenIgotitmatteredtoher.Inashrillvoicesheinsistedwetakebaths,immediately,thatminute.Shesaid,staringatmyfoot,“Canyougetupthestairs?Whathappenedtoyou?”
“Gotrunoverbyabrewer’scart,”Isaid.MissSmithflinched.Iwentupthestairsonmybottom,oneatatime.MissSmithtookusintoawhiteroomwithabigbath,pouredhotwaterstraightfromatap,whichwasfascinating,andgaveusourprivacy,whateverthatmeant.Therewassoapandthicktowels.Itookalittleclothandrubbedsoapintoit,andrubbedmyfaceandneck.Theclothcameawaygray.IrubbedsoapintoJamie’shair,andmyown,thenturnedthetapbackontorinseitout.Itwaswonderful,thebath.Afterwardthedirtywaterranoutaholeinthebottomofthetubinsteadofhavingtobescoopedoutlikeathome.Jamie,clean,grinnedfrominsideawhitetowel.Iwrappedatowelaroundmyselfandletmyhairdripontomyshoulders.“Posh,thisplace,”Jamiesaid.
Inodded.Itwasafineplace.Ididn’tcareifMissSmithwasawful.WewereusedtothatwithMam.
MissSmithknockedonthedoorandaskeduswhereourthingswere.Ididn’tknowwhatshemeant.We’dfinishedthefoodI’dbrought,andI’dlefttheemptypaperbagonthetrain.
“Yourotherclothes,”shesaid.“Youcan’tpossiblyputwhatyouwerewearingbackon.”
Theotherkidsonthetrainhadhadparcels.Notus.Isaid,“We’regoingtohaveto,that’sallwe’vegot.”
Sheopenedthedoorandlookedmeupanddown.Istuckmyrightfootbehindmyleft,butitwastoolate.“Brewer’scartnothing,”shesaidcrossly,openingthedoorwider.“You’vegotaclubfoot.Andyou’rebleedingalloverthefloor.”Sheswungherhandtowardme.
Iducked.
Shefroze.“Iwasn’tgoingtohityou,”shesaid.“Iwasgoingtohelpyou.”
Sure.Becauseshewassohappytohavemebleedingonherfloor.
Shekneltandgrabbedmybadfoot.Itriedtopullitaway,butsheheld
tight.“Interesting,”shesaid.“KingRichardtheThirdhadaclubfoot.I’veneverseenonebefore.”
Imademyselfthinkoftheponies.Theponybesidethehouse,theponyrunningnexttothetrain.Me,ridingtheyellowpony.IwentawayintomyheadandgavemyselfponiesandthatwayIcouldbearMissSmithtouchingme.
“Right,”shesaid.“We’llgotothedoctortomorrow,findoutwhatweshoulddoforyou.”
“Hewon’twanther,”Jamiesaid.“Nicepeoplehatethatuglyfoot.”
MissSmithletoutashort,harshlaugh.“You’reinluck,then,”shesaid,“becauseIamnotanicepersonatall.”
Shewasnotaniceperson,butshecleanedupthefloor.Shewasnotaniceperson,butshebandagedmyfootinawhitepieceofcloth,andgaveustwoofherowncleanshirtstowear.Theyhungpastourknees.Shecombedorcutthetanglesoutofourhair,whichtookages,andthenshemadeabigpanofscrambledeggs.“It’sallthefoodIhave,”shesaid.“Ihaven’tbeenshoppingthisweek.Iwasn’texpectingyou.”
Allthefoodshehad,shesaid,excepttherewasbutterontheslightlystalebread,andsugarinthetea.Theeggslookedslimy,butIwashungryenoughtoeatanything,andtheytastedfine.WhenIwipedmyplatewithmybreadshegavemeanotherspoonfulofeggs.“WhatamIsupposedtodowithyou?”sheasked.
Itwassuchanoddquestion.“Nothing,”Isaid.
“Adastaysinside,”Jamieoffered.
“Itakecareofhim,”Isaid.“Youwon’thaveto.”
MissSmithfrowned.“Howoldareyou?”
Thisquestionmademesquirm.“Jamie’ssix,”Isaid.“Mamsaid.He’sgottogotoschool.”
“He’sawfullysmallforsix,”MissSmithsaid.
“Mamsaid.”
“Andsurelyyou’reolderthanheis?”shecontinued.“Don’tyougotoschool?”
Jamiesaid,“Notwiththatuglyfoot.”
MissSmithsnorted.“Thatfoot’salongwayfromherbrain.”Shetapped
herknifeagainsttheedgeofherplate.“Birthdays.When?Names?Realnames,notthisSmithnonsense.”
“AdaandJamie,”Isaid.“Smith.That’sallIknow.”
Sheglaredatme.Iglaredback.Afterafewmomentshergazesoftened.“Youreallydon’tknow?”
Ilookedattheeggsonmyplate.“Iaskedonce,”Isaid.“Mamsaiditdidn’tmatter.”
MissSmithdrewinherbreath.“Okay,”shesaid,“Jamie’ssix.You’reolder.Shallwesaynine?”
Icouldn’ttellbyhervoicehowangryshewas.Ishrugged.Ninewasfine.Iknewmynumbers,eight,nine,ten.
“I’llwriteyourparents,”MissSmithsaid.“LadyThortonwillgetmetheiraddress,andI’llwritethem.They’lltellme.”Shelookedusupanddown.“Whatdoesyourfatherdo?”
“Nothing,”Isaid.“He’sdead.”Deadforyears,eitherthatorgone.Ididn’tknowwhich.IfIsqueezedmyeyesshutandconcentrated,IthoughtIcouldrememberhim,butonlyasasortofblurryshadow.Atallman.Quiet,notlikeMam.
“Oh,”saidMissSmith.“I’llwriteyourmother,then.”
MissSmithwasnotaniceperson,butthebedsheputusinwassoftandclean,withsmooththinblanketsandwarmthickerones.Shepulledthecurtainacrossthewindowtoshutoutthelight.Iwasso,sotired.
“Miss,”Iasked,“whoseisthepony?”Ihadtoknow,beforeIwenttosleep.
MissSmithpaused,herhandonthecurtain.Shelookedoutthewindow.“HisnameisButter,”shesaid.“Beckygavehimtome.”
“Who’sBecky?”Jamieasked,butshedidn’treply.
Inthemorningwesleptuntilthesunwashalfwayupthesky.MissSmithsleptlatetoo.Icouldhearhersnoringintheroomacrossthehall.
ItookJamiedownstairsandfedhimbread.IcrawledagainthewayIdidathome.Imeanttokeepwalking,butcrawlingwassomucheasier.
Themainroomhadabackdoor.Outsidewasalittlespacefencedbyastonewall,andthenanothermuchbiggerspace,alsofenced.TheponynamedButterstoodinthebiggerspace,facingthehouse,eyesandearsalert.
Ismiled.Helookedlikehewaswaitingforme.
Jamiesaid,grabbingmyarm,“You’renotsupposedtogooutside.”
Ishookhimoff.“That’sover,”Isaid.“HereIcangowhereIlike.”
Hewavered.“Howdoyouknow?”
Itwasmyreward,Ithought.Forbeingbrave.Forwalkingsolong,forwalkingaway.Igottokeepwalkingforever.Ihauledmyselftomyfeet.Iwouldwalktothepony.
Itoddledandstumbled.Everythinghurt.Theponywatchedme.WhenIreachedthestonewallIsatonitandswungmylegsovertotheotherside.Theponysteppedtowardme,loweredhishead,sniffedmyhands,andpressedhisneckagainstme.Iputmyarmsaroundhim.Iunderstoodhowhegothisname.Hesmelledlikebutterinthehotsun.
Iwantedtoridehimbutwasn’tsurehow.Hisbackwasalongwayfromtheground.Plus,thegirlI’dseenhadhadstrapsorsomethingtoholdonto.Istood,holdingontothepony’sneck,andtookafewcautiousstepsalonghisside.
Thegrassinthefieldprickledmybarefoot.Thedampnessfeltcoolonit,andseepedthroughthebandageonmyotherfoottoo.Thegroundwassoft;itmovedwhenIsteppedonit.Squishy,likenewbread.Treesborderedthefield,andtheirtopswavedinthesun.Birdstwittered.Iknewaboutbirds,wehadtheminthelane,butI’dneverheardsomanyatonce.
Therewereflowers.
Jamieranaroundthefield,singingtohimself,whackingthingswithastickhefound.Butterloweredhisheadagain,sniffingmyhands.DidhethinkI’d
broughthimsomething?ShouldIhavebroughthimsomething?Whatdidponieslike?
Theendofhisnosefeltsoftandwarm.Itracedmyhandsuphisheadtohisears,andtheclumpoflonghairbetweenthem.Irubbedhisneck,andhesighedandleanedintomeagain.Thenhetookastepawayandwentbacktoeatinggrass.
Isatdowninthefieldandwatchedhim.Heateasthougheatingwashisjobinlife,asthoughhewassaying,“I’mnotallthathungry,mate,butI’vegottokeeponwithit,see.”Heflickedhistailbackandforth,thentookastep,dragginghimselftofreshergrass.
Isatandwatchedhim,andthenIlaydown—Iwassostiff,andthewarmsunfeltsonice—andwatchedhim,andthenIfellasleep.WhenIwoke,MissSmithwasstandingoverme.
“You’resunburned,”shesaid.“You’vestayedouttoolong.”
Isatup,stretching.Everythingached.Theskinonmybarelegshadturnedpink.Ithurt,butIwasusedtothingshurting.
“Aren’tyouhungry?”sheasked.Shesoundedcross.
Iblinked.Iwashungry.Crashingly,achinglyhungry.Iwasusedtothattoo.WhatwasIsupposedtosay?DidMissSmithwantmetobehungry,ornot?
“Whydidn’tyouwakemethismorning?”shesaid.
I’dneverwakeher.Iwasn’tstupid.
“Come.”Shereachedanarmtowardme.“It’sgonelate.I’vegottogetyoutothedoctor,andweneedtodosomeshopping.”
“Idon’tneedhelp,”Isaid.
“Don’tberidiculous,”shesaid,andhauledmeup.
Itriedtoshakeheroff,butmyfootachedsoterriblythatintheendIletherhelpmebacktothehouse.Jamiewasalreadyinside,sittingatthetableeatingcannedbeansandtoast.Islidintoachairinthekitchen.MissSmiththumpedmorebeansontoaplate.“Yourbandageisfilthyalready,”shesaid.
Itookadeepbreath.BeforeIcouldspeak,Jamiesaid,“Itoldhershewasn’t’sposedtogooutside.”
“Rubbish.”MissSmith’stonewassharp.“Ofcourseshemaygooutside.Wejustneedabettersystem.Thoseshoesyouwerewearingyesterday—”
“ThosewereMam’s,”Isaid.
“Icouldseetheyweren’tyours,”MissSmithsaid.“ThoughIdon’tsupposeyoucanweararegularshoe.”Ishrugged.“Well,we’llseewhatthedoctorsays.I’vehiredataxitotakeusthereandthenwe’llcomeupwithsomething.Don’tgetusedtoit.Ican’taffordcabsveryoften.”
Inodded,becausethatseemedbest.
Itturnedoutthattaxiandcabwerebothwordsthatmeantautomobile.Tworidesintwodays.Astonishing.
Iknewwhatadoctorwas,thoughI’dneverseenonebefore.Thisonehadfunnythingslikepanesofroundwindowglassstuckinfrontofhiseyes.Heworealongwhitecoatlikethebutcherbackhome.“Hoponuphere,”hesaidtous,pattingabigwoodentable.Jamiehopped,butIcouldn’t.“Ah,”saidthedoctor,noticingmyfoot.Heliftedmeontothetable.
Mamnevertouchedmeunlessitwastohitme.Jamiehuggedme,butofcourseheneverpickedmeup.Peoplewereallthetimetouchingmehere.Ididn’tlikeit.Notatall.
ThedoctorpokedandmeasuredandinspectedJamieandme.Hemadeustakeoffourshirts,andheheldacoldmetalthingtoourchestswithtubesthatranuptohisears.Heranhishandsthroughourhairandstudiedthescratchyplacesonourskin.“Impetigo,”hesaid.Thismadenosensetome,butMissSmithpulledalittlenotebookoutofherpurseandwrotesomethingdown.
“They’reprettyseverelymalnourished,”hesaid.“Lookslikericketsstartinginthegirl.Lotsofsunlightforher.Goodfood.Milk.”
“ButwhatdoIdowiththem?”MissSmithsaid.“I’veneverbeenaroundchildren.”
“Feedthem,bathethem,makesuretheygetplentyofsleep,”thedoctorsaid.“They’renomoredifficultthanpuppies,really.”Hegrinned.“Easierthanhorses.”
“ThehorsesbelongedtoBecky,”MissSmithsnapped,“andIneverhadadog.”
“Who’sBecky?”Jamieasked.Ishushedhim.
“AndwhataboutAda’sfoot?”MissSmithsaid.“WhatamIsupposedtodoaboutthat?”
Ituckedmyfootbeneathme.MissSmithtappedmyknee.“Showhim,”shesaid.
Ididn’twantto.Ididn’twantthemtouchingmemore.Myfootwasoutof
sight,bandaged,andIwasmanagingtowalksome,andIthoughtthatoughttobeenough.
MissSmithyankedmyfootout.“Behave,”shesaid.
Thedoctorunwrappedthebandage.“My,my,”hesaid,cradlingmyfootinhishand.“Anuntreatedclubfoot.I’veneverseenonebefore.”
“Ithoughtclubfeetwererathercommon,”saidMissSmith.
“Oh,yes.Certainly.Butnearlyalwayssuccessfullyresolvedininfancy.”
MissSmithsuckedinherbreathinawayIdidn’tunderstand.“Butwhywouldn’t—”Shelookedatmeandmadehervoicestop.
Successfullyresolved,Ithought.Myfootwasnotsuccessfullyresolved.ItsoundedlikeI’ddonesomethingwrong.Mamalwayssaidmyfootwasmyfault.I’dalwayswonderedwhetherthatwastrue.
Andclubfoot.Thatwasmyfoot.Aclubfoot.
ThedoctorpokedatmyclubfootandtwisteditandstareduntilIcouldn’tbearitanymore.IthoughtofButter,howhesmelledsowarmandgood,howhisbreathfeltagainstmyhand.Insteadofgoingtoanemptyplaceinmyhead,nowIcouldgotowhereButterwas,andthatwaseasy.
“Ada,”MissSmithsaidloudly,“Ada.Comeback.Dr.Grahamaskedyouaquestion.”Shewastappingmyface.Thedoctorhadwrappedmyfootinafreshbandage.Itwasover.
“Areyouinverymuchpain?”herepeated.
Howmuchwasverymuch?Whatdidhewantmetosay?Ishrugged.
“Didyouunderstandwhathesaidaboutseeingaspecialist?”MissSmithsaid.
Ilookedather.Shelookedback.
“Yesorno?”shesaid.
Ishookmyhead.
MissSmithandthedoctorexchangedglances.IfeltlikeI’dsaidthewrongthing.
“Dr.Grahamthinksaspecialistmightbeabletooperateonyourfoot.”
Ididn’tknowwhataspecialistwas.Ididn’tknowwhattheymeantbythewordoperate.ButIknewbetterthantoaskquestions.“Okay,”Isaid.
MissSmithsmiled.“Itsoundsscary,Iknow,butitwouldbeawonderful
thing.I’llwritetoyourmotherrightaway,toaskherpermission.Ican’timagineshe’llobject.MeanwhileDr.Graham’sfetchingapairofcrutchesforyou.”
Crutcheswerelongpiecesofwoodyoustuckunderyourarmpits,soyoucouldwalkusingthecrutchesandonegoodfoot.Yourbadfoot,ifyouhadone,didn’thavetotouchthegroundatall.
Crutchesdidn’thurt.
Thedoctorsaid,“See?Iknewshecouldsmile,”andMissSmithshookherheadandsaid,“Idon’tbelieveit.”
Thedoctor’splacewasrightintown,nearthetrainstation.OncrutchesIdidn’tneedataxi,sowewalkedrightdownthemainstreet.Iwalkeddownthestreet,badfootandall,andnobodystoppedme.Wewentintotheshopsandboughtmeatandvegandgroceries.Iwentintotheshopsandnobodyturnedmeout.AtonepointMissSmithsaid,“Ada,wouldyouhandmethreeofthoseapples?”I’dbeencarefulnottotouchanythingupuntilthen,butwhensheaskedIfigureditmustbeokay,andIdiditanditwas.Theshopkeeperdidn’tevenlookatme.
Theshopshadsomuchstuffinthemtheygavemeajitteryfeeling.Therewastoomuchstufftosee.AndI’dneverknownanyonetobuyasmuchfoodasMissSmithdid,allatonce.Shepaidforittoo,straightup,withcash.Notathingontick.InudgedJamie,andhenodded.MissSmithwasrich.
Onthesidewalk,MissSmithcountedherremainingcoinsandsighed.Sheledusintoastern-lookingbrickshop.Theinsidewasjustpeoplestandingbehindcounters.Youcouldn’ttellwhattheyweresellingatall.
“What’sthisplace?”Jamieasked.
“It’sabank,”MissSmithsaid.“You’vebeentobanksbefore.”
Ididn’tknowwhyshe’dthinkso.I’dneverevenheardofaplacecalledabank.MissSmithscribbledonascrapofpaperandgaveittooneofthemenbehindthecounter,andhecountedoutmoneyandgaveittoher.
“Amoneystore,”Jamiewhispered,eyeswide.
Inodded.Wesuredidn’thaveoneofthoseonourlane.
Wewerebackwearingourclothesfromthedaybefore—wecouldn’thavegoneintotownwearingonlyMissSmith’sshirts—butMissSmithhadwashedthemsowelookedandsmellednice.Shemarchedusintoastorethatsoldclothinganyhow,andboughtuseachanewsetofclothes,topand
bottom,andsomethingcalledunderwear,whichshesaidwehadtowearfromnowon—threesetsofthat—andstockingsandthenshoesforbothofus,Jamieandme.
“Igotshoesalready,”Jamiesaid,eyeingthestoutbootsMissSmithchose.“AndAda,shedon’tneed’em.”
MissSmithignoredhim.Theshopkeeper,anunpleasantmanwithhairyeyebrows,said,“Theseevacueesisnothingbuttrouble,isn’tthey,miss?Mymissusisthatfedupalready,she’swantingtosendthemhome.Filthylittleratswetthebed.”
MissSmithgavehimalookthatmadehimshuthismouth,excepthebeggedherpardonfirst.AndwhenwewalkedoutthedoorIhadabrownleathershoeonmygoodleftfoot.
Arealshoe.Forme.
MissSmithhadhadtobuyawholepair.Themanwouldn’tsellherjustone.Shecarriedtheothershoeinabag.“We’llsaveit,”shesaid.“Perhapssomeday…”
Ididn’tknowwhatshemeant,andIdidn’task.Iwasgettingtired,evenwiththecrutches,andIonlywantedtothinkaboutthewalkhome.ButJamiedancedinfrontofme,smiling.“Iftheycanfixyourfoot,”hesaid.“Iftheycanfixit!”
Ismiledbackathim.Jamiewassuchahopelessfool.
AnotherthingMissSmithdidwasexchangeheroldradiobatteriesforchargedones.Somefolksinourlanehadhadradios,soIknewaboutthem,but,asusual,notcloseup.MissSmith’ssatinthemainroomonaglossywoodcabinet.Assoonaswegothome,Saturdaynight,sheputthenewbatteriesinandstarteditup.Voicescameout,talking.
MissSmithsighed.“Iwantedmusic,”shesaid.Shereachedupandswitcheditoff.“Isupposewe’llhavetohearallaboutthewar,eventually.”Sheyawnedandsatwithoutmoving.
Ithoughtofthefoodwe’dbought.Apples.Meat.Istoodup.“Wantmetomakesometea,miss?”Iasked,bywayofsuggestion.“Cutsomebreadanddripping?”
Shefrowned.“Ofcoursenot.”
Isatbackdown,disappointed.Iwashungryagain.Butthen,we’dalreadyeatentwicethatday,ifyoucountedthebreadweswipedinthemorning.
“It’snearlytimeforsupper,”MissSmithsaid.Shegavemeasortofasmile,although,likeMam’ssmiles,itdidn’tmakeherlookhappy.“I’llmakesupper.It’smyjobtotakecareofyou.”
Right.
Butthenshegotup,andshedidmakesupper.Ahugesupper.Ham.Boiledpotatoes.Littleroundgreenthingscalledpeas,thatcameoutofacan.Tomatoes,liketheoneJamieswiped,onlycutinthickslices.Bread,withbutter.Somanydifferentcolorsandshapesandsmells.ThepeasrolledaroundmymouthuntilIbitthemandtheysquished.
Supperwaslikeamiracle,itwas,allthatfoodallatonce,andyetJamie,wornoutandcross,refusedtotouchanythingexceptham.Iwantedtosmackhim.Hotfoodandmeat.MissSmithmightnotwantus,butshewasfeedingusfine.Nottomention,Ihadashoe.Thatmeantshedidn’tmindifIwentoutside.
“Leavehim,”MissSmithsaidtiredly,whenIstartedtotellJamieoff.ToJamieshesaid,“Youcan’thavesecondhelpingsofanythinguntilyou’vetakenonebiteofeverythingonyourplate.”
Therehadbeenpiecesofclothonthetable,foldedundertheforks.Before
shestartedeatingMissSmithhadputhersonherlap,sowehadtoo.NowJamietookhisclothandusedittocoverhishead.“Iwantham,”hesaid,throughthecloth.
“Youmayhavemorehamafteryou’vetriedabiteofeverything,”MissSmithsaid.“You’reallowedtodislikefood,butnotbeforeyou’vetastedit.Andgetthatnapkinoffyourhead.”
Jamiehurledhisplateagainstthewall.Itshattered.MissSmithscreamed.
ItackledJamie.Igrabbedapieceoftomatooffthefloorandmasheditbetweenhislips.Hespatitatme.“Eatit!”Iroared.Igrabbedpeasandshovedthosedownhisgullet.Hechokedandgagged.MissSmithyankedmeloose.
“Ada!”shesaid.“Ada,stopit!You’llhurthim!”
Hurthim,whenitwashimdisobeying.
“Bedtime,Jamie!”MissSmithgrabbedhisflailingarm.“Bath,thenbed!”Shepulledhimoffthefloorandcarriedhimkickingandscreamingupthestairs.
I’llkillhim,Ithought.I’llmurderhimforactingthisway.
Ifoundmycrutchesandgottomyfeet.Ipickedupthebrokenpiecesofplate,andthefoodscatteredacrossthefloor.IwipedupthewaterI’dspilledwhenIknockedovermyglass.IcouldhearJamiescreamingupstairs.MissSmithwaseitherbathinghimorslaughteringhim;eitherwasfinebyme.
WhenIfinishedcleaningthekitchenIclimbedthestairs.Deadeasywiththecrutches.Thescreaminghadstopped.“Iputcleanwaterinthebathforyou,”MissSmithsaid.“Didyoufinishyoursupper?”
Inodded.Iwasstillhungry,butmystomachwasturningcirclesandIcouldn’teat.
Therewashotwater,soap,atowel.Ialreadyfeltclean,butthewaterwassoothing.AfterwardIputonnewclothescalledpajamas,thatweresupposedtobejusttosleepin.Topsandbottoms,bothblue.ThefabricwassosoftthatforamomentIhelditagainstmyface.Itwasallsoft,thisplace.Softandgoodandfrightening.AthomeIknewwhoIwas.
WhenIwentintothebedroomJamiewascurledintoalittleball,snoring,andMissSmithwasdozinginthechairbesidethebed.She’snotaniceperson,Iremindedmyself,andwenttosleep.
InthemiddleofthenightIjumpedawake,thewayIdidwhenMambrought
homeguests.Isatupandclutchedtheblanketstome.Mybreathcameinraggedgasps.
MissSmithsaid,“It’sallright,Ada.You’reallright.”
Iturned.ShewasstillsittinginthechairbesideJamie.Moonlightcamethroughthewindow.MissSmith’sfacewasinshadow.
Myhearthammered.Myheadwhirled.
“You’reallright,”MissSmithrepeated.“Didyouhaveanightmare?”
DidI?Ididn’tknow.Jamielaybesideme,hismouthslightlyopen,hisbreathingsoftandregular.
“Weretherebombs?”Iasked.
Sheshookherhead.“No.Ididn’thearanything,butIwokeuptoo.”Sheheldherwristuptoapatchofmoonlight.“It’sgonethreeo’clock.Ididn’tmeantofallasleephere.I’vesleptinthischairmostofthenight.”
SomehowIcouldhearhersmiling.“Ihaven’tsleptwellforalongtime.SinceBeckydied,Idon’tsleepwell.”
Iasked,“Whendidshedie?”
MissSmithclearedherthroat.“Threeyearsago.ThreeyearsagonextTuesday.”
Shehadn’tsleptwellforthreeyears?
“It’spartofwhyIdidn’twanttotakeyou,”shecontinued.“It’snothingtodowithyou.I’malwayssomuchworseinthefall.Andthenthedaysgetsoshortand—well,I’mneververygoodinthewintereither.Neverwas,notevenwhenIwasyourage.Ihatethedarknessandthecold.”
Inodded.Ihatedthemtoo.Inwinterchilblainscoveredmyhandsandfeet,andtheyitchedandburnedlikecrazy.Iasked,“WasBeckyyourkid?”
“Mykid?”MissSmithgaveabarkofharshlaughter.“No.Shewasmyfriend.Mybestfriend.Wewereatuniversitytogether.Thiswasherhouse,sheleftittome.”
“AndButter,”Isaid,remembering.
“ShegavemeButterlongbeforeshedied.Shewantedmetolikehorses,thewayshedid.Itdidn’ttake.”
“Whatkilledher?”Iasked.
“Pneumonia.That’sasicknessinthelungs.”
Inodded.TalkingtoMissSmithhadhelpedmypanicsubside.Iunclenchedmyhandsfromtheblanketsandlaybackdown.“Youcouldsleephere,”IsaidtoMissSmith.Jamiewasinthemiddleofthebed,sotherewasroomonherside.
Sheshookherhead.“No,I’ll—well,maybe.Justthisonce.”SheslidinbesideJamieandpulledtheblanketsoverherself.Ipulledmyendovermyself,feelingagaintheunexpectedsoftness,thewarmth.
ThenextthingIknewtheroomwasfulloflight,thesoundofchurchbellswascomingthroughtheopenwindows,andMissSmithwassaying,“Oh,Jamie,youwetthebed.”
Heneverdid,athome.Irememberedthesurlysalesmanwho’dcomplainedabouthisevacuees’bedwetting,andIgaveJamiesuchaglarethatheburstintotears.
“Nomatter,”MissSmithsaid,thoughshelookedannoyed.“It’llallwash.Mondaywe’llbuyarubbersheetincaseithappensagain.”
Shewasallthetimehavingtobuystuff.Isaid,mostlytoeasemyworry,“Ofcourse,you’rerich.”Ofcourseshewas,withtheposhhouseandallthefood,nottomentionabanktohandhermoney.
“Farfromit,”shereplied.“I’vebeenlivingoffthesaleofBecky’shunters.”Shestoodup,stretching.“What’swiththoseblastedbells?Havewesleptthatlong?IsupposeIshouldbetakingyoutochurch,that’swhatadecentguardianwoulddo.”Sheshrugged.“Toolatenow.”
Downstairsshemadetea.ShetoldJamietoputtheradioon.Adeep,sonorousvoicecameoutofit,verysolemnandslow.SomethingaboutitmadeJamieandmesittolisten.MissSmithcameinfromthekitchenandperchedontheedgeofthechair.
TheVoicesaid,“Astheprimeministerannouncedjustashorttimeago,EnglandandGermanyarenowatwar.”
Thechurchbellshadgonesilent.Jamiesaid,“Willtheybombusnow?”andMissSmithnoddedandsaid,“Yes.”
Upuntilthen,thatmorning,I’dforgottenaboutthebombs.TheyweresupposedtobeinLondon,nothereatMissSmith’shouse,butevensoI’dforgottenthem.Youwouldn’tthinkyoucouldforgetathinglikebombs.
Thesquelchyfeelingswirledinmystomachagain.“Whatdotheymean,wearenowatwar?”Iasked.“Weren’twealready?We’rehere.”
“Thegovernmentevacuatedcitiesaheadoftime,”MissSmithexplained.“Theyknewthewarwascoming,justnotexactlywhen.”
“Iftheyknewitwascoming,theycouldhavestoppedit,”Isaid.
MissSmithshookherhead.“Youcan’tstopHitlerwithoutafight.Don’tworry,Ada.You’llbesafe,andyourmotherwillbesafe,andI’msureyou’llbeabletogohomesoon.”
Thewayshesaidit,withafakesmile,toldmeshewaslying.Ididn’tknowwhyshewouldlie.
“Ihopenot,”Isaid,beforeIthought.Ibitbackmynextwords,whichwere,I’dratherbehere.
MissSmithlookedstartled.Sheseemedabouttosaysomething,but,beforeshecould,Jamiebegantocry.“Iwanttogohome,”hesaid.“Idon’twantawar.Idon’twantbombs.I’mscared.Iwanttogohome.”
WhenIthoughtofgoinghome,Icouldn’tbreathe.Homewasmorefrighteningthanbombs.WhatwasJamiethinking?
MissSmithsighed.ShetookherhandkerchiefandwipedthetearsandsnotoffJamie’sface.“Noone’saskinguswhatwewant,”shesaid.“Come.Let’shavesomethingtoeat.”
Afterweate,MissSmithsatbesidetheradio,lookingdistantandunhappy.“Miss?”Isaid.“Havetheystartedbombingyet?”
Sheshookherhead.“Notyet.ThesirenswentoffinLondon,butitwasjustadrill.”
Iperchedontheedgeofthechairbesideher.Thevoiceontheradiodronedon.“Miss?”Isaid.“What’rehunters?”
Shelookedupasthoughhalfasleep.“What?”
Irepeatedthequestion.“YousaidyouwerelivingoffthesaleofBecky’shunters,”Isaid.Iknewaboutsellingthings.Therewasapawnshopdownourlane,andwhenworkatthedockswasslow,womentookthingsthere.
“Huntersareanexpensivetypeofhorse,”shesaid.“Beckyhadtwoofthem.”
“Wecouldeatless,”Isaid.“Jamieandme.We’reusedtoit.”
MissSmith’sgazesharpened.“Ofcoursenot,”shesaid.Hervoicetookonanedgethatmademeswallow.“Youaren’ttoworryaboutthat.I’llhandleit,orLadyThortonwill.You’llbelookedafter.”
“It’sjust—”
“You’renottoworry,”shesaid.“It’sabeautifulday.Wouldn’tyouliketoplayoutside?”
Jamiewasalreadyoutthere.Inodded,tookmycrutches,andwent.Buttergrazedfaracrossthefield.“Butter!”Icalled,slidingoverthepasturewall.Heraisedhishead,butdidn’tcometome.
Ilaydown.Thefieldwasfascinating.Grass,dirt,flowers.Littleflyingbugs.Irolledontomystomachandstrokedthegrass,sniffedit,pulleditoutofthedirt.Scootedforwardtoexamineawhiteflower.
EventuallyIfeltawhooshofbreathagainstmyneck.Irolledover,laughing,expectingJamie,butitwasButter.Hesniffedmyhead,thensteppedaside,grazing.Iwatchedhisfeetandhowhemovedthem,andhowhislongyellowtailswishedfliesaway.
Thesunwashighandthenitwaslower,andtheairgrewchilly.“Supper!”MissSmithshoutedfromthehouse.Whenwecameinshegavemeaneyeandsaid,“Haveyoubeenrollinginmud?”
Ididn’tknowwhatshemeant.
“Nevermind,”shesaid.“Don’tlooksostricken.You’llwash.”
Jamieshouted,“AnotherBATH?”
“Sitandeat,”MissSmithsaid.“Yes,abath.Youcanplanonhavingabatheverynightwhileyou’rehere.”
“Everynight?”Mudornot,IfeltcleanerthanI’deverbeen.
“Idon’tmindyougettingdirty,”MissSmithsaid,“butIwon’thavemudonmysheets.”
JamieandIlookedaround.Therewerelotsofthingswhosenameswedidn’tknow.Andclearlyshedidmindourgettingdirty,atleastalittle.
FinallyIsaid,“Miss?What’resheets?”
Sheetswerethethinwhiteblanketsonthebed.Supperwassomethingcalledsoup,thatcameinbowls.Youweresupposedtodrinkitfromspoons,notfromthebowlsthemselves,whichseemedliketoomuchwork.ButIwashungry,andthesoupwassaltyandhadbitsofmeatinit,soIdidasIwastold.
Jamierefusedtoeatatall.
“Ifyouwanttogotobedhungry,youcertainlymay,”MissSmithsaid.“SoupisallI’vemadeandsoupisallthereistoeat.”
Thiswasalieandweallknewit.Hercupboardheldallsortsoffood.ButJamie’dgonetobedhungrybefore.Itwouldn’tkillhim.
Atnighthecriedintohispillowandinthemorninghe’dwetthebedagain.“Iwanttogohome,”hesaid.“IwanttoseeBillyWhite.Iwanttobelikealways.Iwanttogohome.”
Ididn’t.Notever.IhadrunawayonceandI’drunawayagain.
Thenextweekthreethingshappened.First,MissSmithspentmostofeachdayeithersleepingorstaringdullyintospace.OnMondayshemademealsforusbutdidnothingelse.OnTuesdayshedidn’tevengetoutofbed.I’dwatchedhercookingonherrangeenoughtounderstandhowitworked,soIfedJamieandme.MidafternoonImadeMissSmithsometea.Jamiecarrieditupthestairsformeandwetookitintoherroom.
Shelayonherside,awakebutstaringatnothing.Hereyeswereredandswollen.Sheseemedsurprisedtoseeus.“I’veabandonedyou,”shesaid,withoutmoving.“ItoldLadyThortonI’mnotfittocareforchildren.Isaidso.”
Isettheteaonthetablebyherbed.“Here,miss.”
Shesatup.“Youshouldn’thavetotakecareofme,”shesaid.“I’msupposedtobetakingcareofyou.”Shetookasip,andfreshtearssprangtohereyes.“You’vesugaredit,”shesaid.
Thatwashowshetookit.Onesugar,nomilk.I’dwatched.“Yes,miss,”Isaid,duckingalittleincaseshetriedtosmackme.“Notmuch,though.There’splentyofsugarleft.Ididn’ttakeany.”ThoughI’dletJamiehavesome.
“I’mnotgoingtohityou,”shesaid.“Iwishyou’dunderstandthat.I’mneglectingyou,certainly,butIwon’thityou,andIdon’tcarewhatyoueat.Itwasthoughtfulofyoutosugarmytea.Itwasthoughtfulofyoutobringmeteainthefirstplace.”
“Yes,miss,”Isaid.Thoughtful:goodorbad?
Shesighed.“Andwehaven’theardbackfromyourmother.YournameisSmith,though.Yourlastname.UntilLadyThortontoldme,Iwassureyouwerelying.”
“Yes,miss.”
“AfterthatbusinessaboutHitler.”
Iturnedtogo.I’dhadaneventfulmorning,andIwashungrymyself,andcoulddowithsometea.
“It’sacommonenoughname,Smith,”MissSmithsaid.“Butstill,Ithoughtyouwerelying.”
Shestayedinbedevenaftershefinishedthetea.IletJamierummagethroughthecupboardandeatanythingheliked,andIdidtoo,thoughIwasprettysureI’dgetintroubleforitlateron.IletJamieskiphisbath,butItookanextra-longone,withhotwatersodeepmylegsfloated.Ipulledthesheetsoffthebedsoitwouldn’tmatterthatJamiehadwetthemthenightbefore,andwesleptfine.
InthemorningMissSmithgotup,herfrizzyhairayellowcloudaroundherhead.“I’lltrytodobetter,”shetoldus.“Yesterdaywas—aboutBecky.I’lldobettertoday.”
Ishrugged.“IcantakecareofJamie.”
“Probably,”MissSmithsaid,“butsomebodyoughttotakecareofyou.”
Thatwasthefirstthing.ThesecondwasthattheRoyalAirForcebuiltanairfieldacrosstheroadfromButter’spasture.Itwentupcompletelyinthreedays,landingstrip,huts,everything.Jamie,fascinated,keptsneakingovertowatch,untilanofficermarchedhimbacktoMissSmithwithhishandaroundJamie’sneck.“Keephimhome,ma’am,”hesaid.“Nociviliansontheairfield.”
ThethirdthingisthatBillyWhitewentbacktoLondon.
Jamie’dfussedaboutmissingBillyandhisfriends,butIdidn’tknowhowtofindthem,andIwasn’tgoingtowalkthecountrysideinablindsearch.I’dgottenthehangofcrutchesquick,sowalkingwaseasy,butIenjoyedhavingJamietomyself.Wewerespendingourdaysoutside.Therewasabuildinginthegardencalledastable,thatBecky’shorsesusedtolivein,andsometimesweplayedthere,butmostlywewereinButter’sfield,whichIloved.
OnThursdayallthreeofuswalkedintotown,becausewe’dfinallyeatenupmostofthefood.ThefirstthingwesawwasBillyWhitewithhismotherandhissisterswaitingatthestationforthetrain.
“Billy!”Jamieshouted.HeranuptoBilly’sfamilyandgrinnedatthem.“Where’reyoustaying?I’mnotfar,it’sjust—”
Billysaid,“Mum’scometotakeus.We’regoinghome.”
Jamiestared.“ButwhataboutHitler?”heasked.“Whataboutthebombs?”
“Haven’tbeenanybombssofar,”Billy’smothersaid.Shehadherarmaroundheryoungestgirl.WhenIsmiledatthegirl,Billy’smotherpulledheralittlebitawayfromme,asthoughmybadfootmightbecatching.“AndI
can’tstandit,beingawayfromthem,”shewenton.“Itfeelswrong.Ireckonwe’llstickthewarouttogether.”Shegavemeasidewaysglance.“’Sthatyou,Ada?Yourmumsaidashowyou’dgonetoo,butIdidn’tbelieveit.Onlyyouweren’tatyourwindow.”Shelookedmeupanddown,particularlydown,atmycarefullybandagedfoot.MissSmithwashedthebandagesandgavemeacleanoneeveryday.
“I’mnotsimple,”Isaid.“I’vegotabadfoot,that’sall.”
“Idunno,”Billy’smothersaid,stillshieldingherdaughter.“Yourmam—”
“I’vewrittentoher,”MissSmithsaid,comingupbehindus.“Butperhapsyoucouldtakeamessagetohertoo.Thedoctorsays—”
Billyinterrupted.“Ihateithere,”hesaid.“Thepeoplethattookus,they’remeanasabunchofstarvedcats.”
“Ihateitheretoo,”Jamiesaid.HeturnedtoMissSmith.“CanIgohome?Willyoutakeushome?”
MissSmithshookherhead,smiling,asthoughJamieweremakingajoke.“I’veneverevenbeentoLondon,”shesaid.“Iwouldn’tknowwheretogo.”
“Home,”Jamieinsisted.
“Where’sStephen?”Iasked.
Billy’smomscowled.“Hewon’tcome,”shesaid.“Thinkshe’simportant,hedoes.”Shegavemeanotheroddlook.“I’mthatsurprisedtoseeyououtwithordinarypeople.Ithoughtthey’dputyouinanasylum.”
FromthetoneofhervoiceitwasclearshethoughtIshouldbelockedaway.Thedisgustinitstunnedme.ForyearsI’dwavedtoBilly’smotheroutmywindow,andshealwayswavedback.I’dthoughtshewasaniceperson.I’dthoughtshelikedme.Clearlyshedidnot.Ididn’tknowwhattosay.Ididn’tevenknowwheretolook.Susan’shandtouchedmyshoulderandIturnedalittlesothatIcouldseetheedgeofherskirt.Icouldn’tstandlookingatBilly’smotheranymore.
ThetraincameupandBilly’smotherherdedherchildrentowardit.Jamiebegantohowl.“Takemewithyou!”
MissSmithheldhimback.“Yourmotherwantsyouhere,”shesaid.“Shewantsyousafe.”
“Shemissesme,”Jamiesaid.“An’Ada’lltakecareofme.Mammissesus.Right,Ada?Right?Shewantsushome!”
Iswallowed.Maybe.Afterall,withmegoneshedidn’thaveanybodytofixhertea.Maybeshe’dbehappytoseeme,nowthatIcouldwalk,
especiallywiththecrutches.Maybeshe’dwonderwhysheneverthoughtofcrutchesherself.
Maybeshe’dseeIwasn’tsimple.
OrmaybeIwas.Maybetherewasareasontheykeptmeshutupinoneroom.
Awaveofdizzinesssweptme.ThinkofButter,Itoldmyselfdesperately.ThinkofridingButter.
MeanwhileJamie’sscreamsincreased.HekickedMissSmith,hard,andtriedtoyankhimselfoutofhergrasp.“Billy!”heshouted.“Takemewithyou!Iwanttogo!IWANTTOGOHOME!”
MissSmithheldontohimuntilthetrainhadgone.
“Ihateyou!”Jamiesobbed,flailinghisarmsandlegs.“Ihateyou,Ihateyou!Iwanttogohome!”
MissSmithgrabbedhimbythewristandhauledhimdownthestreetinstony-facedsilence.“Comealong,Ada,”shesnapped,withoutlookingback.
Jamiecontinuedtosob.Snotrandownhischin.“Ihateyou!”hehowled.“Ihateyou!”
“Trouble?”askedacalmvoice.Ilookedup.Itwastheironwoman,theonewhoputusintoherautomobile,andbyhersideherselfinminiature,aniron-facedgirl.Oneofthebrightgirlsinribbons,whohadservedustea.
Tomysurprise,MissSmithrolledhereyesandshookherhead,asthoughallJamie’syellinghadn’tbotheredherabit.“It’sonlyatantrum,”shesaid.“Hesawhisfriendleave.”
TheironwomanturnedonJamie.“Stopscreaming,”shesaidcrisply.“Stopitthisinstant.You’llfrightenthehorses.”
Jamiestopped.Helookedaround.“Whathorses?”
Theironwomansaid,“It’safigureofspeech.”ToMissSmithshesaid,“Atleastadozenofthemhavegonebackalready.I’vetoldtheirparentsoverandoverthatitisn’tsafe.Londonwillbebombed.Butit’snouse.Thosesimple-mindedwomenprefertheirpresentcomforttothelong-termsafetyoftheirchildren.”
Simple-mindedwomen.Simplelikeme.Maybeeveryonewassimpleonmylane.
TheironwomaneyedJamieandme.“Yoursarecertainlylookingbetter.Acredittoyou.”
“Hardly,”MissSmithsaid.“AllIdidwasputthemincleanclothesandfeedthem.”Sherubbedstinkylotiononourimpetigotoo,butInoticedshedidn’ttelltheironwomanthat.Insteadshesaid,hesitatingly,“Perhaps,ifyouhavehand-me-downs—orifyouknowsomeonewhodoes—Ican’taffordallthey’llneedforwinter.”
Theironladypulledaclipboardoutofherlargehandbag.Sheprobablyheldaclipboardinhersleep.“Ofcourse,”shesaid,writingsomethingdown.“I’morganizingausedclothingcollectionintown.Wedon’texpectyoutobeabletocoverclothingoutoftheallowance.Theyweresupposedtobringtheirown—well,nevermind.Theyshouldhavecomewithmorethantheydid.Obviously.”
Heriron-faceddaughterwasstaringatmybandagedfoot.Ileanedcloseandwhispered,“Itjusthappenedyesterday.Igotsteppedonbyourpony.”
Thegirl’seyesnarrowed.Shewhisperedback,“That’sanawfullie.”
Isaid,“Wehavetoogotapony.”
Shesaid,“Itdoesn’thurtthatmuchwhenaponystepsonyou.I’vebeensteppedondozensoftimes.”
Well,shehadmethere.Ididn’tknowwhattosay,soIstuckmytongueoutather.Shebaredherteethinresponse,likeatiger.Cor.
MeanwhileMissSmithwassaying,“Whatallowance?”
Itturnedoutshewasgettingpaidfortakingusin.Nineteenshillingsaweek!Nearlyawholepound!Ifshehadn’tbeenrichbefore,shewasnow.Iletoutadeepbreath.Icouldquitworryingoverwhatmyshoehadcost,andhowmuchfoodweate.Mamdidn’tearnanythinglikenineteenshillingsaweek.JamieandIcouldeatallwewantedonnineteenshillingsaweek.
“Ican’tbelieveyoudidn’tknowthat,”theironwomansaid.“SurelyIexplained—”
“Oh,”MissSmithsaid,withalittlelaugh,“Iwasn’tlisteningtoawordyousaid.”
Aswecontinueddownthestreet,Jamiesubduedbutstillwhimpering,Isaid,“That’sthreepoundssixteenshillingsamonth,miss.Youcouldtakeinmoreofusandgetrich.”
MissSmithscowled.“ThankGodI’mnotreducedtothat.”
Allthistime,insecret,I’dbeenmessingwithButter.WhatMissSmithdidn’tknowIwasdoing,shecouldn’tforbid.
TheTuesdaythatshestayedinbedIsatonhimforthefirsttime.Icoaxedhimtostandbesidethestonewall,thenclimbedthewall—wobbling,withoutmycrutches—andthrewmybadlegacrosshisback.Igrabbedhismaneandscrambled,andthereIwas,astridehim.Thesmellofhimroseuparoundme,andhiscoatfeltwarmandpricklyagainstmylegs.
Hewalkedforward,hisswingingstepsmovingmyhipsalongwithhim.Iheldontohismaneforbalance.Itriedtosteerhim,butitdidn’twork,andbeforelonghedroppedhisheadtograze.Ididn’tmind.Isatonhimmostofthatmorning,untilIgrewhungrymyself.ThenIslidoffhimandwentintoeat.
Thenextdaymylegsfeltwobbly.Allstretchedoutinanewway.Ididn’tmindthateither.Itwasnothinglikeasbadaswalking.
Thestableshadastoreroomattached.Ithadbeenlocked,butJamie’dfoundthekeyunderarocknearthedoor.InsidewasallsortsofstuffIguessedhadtodowithBeckyandherhorses.IwentlookingforstrapslikeI’dseenontheponywhoracedourtrain,andfoundboxesfullofleatherpieces,someofthembuckledtogether.Ipulledthemoutandexaminedthem.
Ifyoupickupabridle,whichistheleatherstuffthatgoesaroundthehorse’shead,bythewrongpiece—bythenosebandorthecheekpiece,say,insteadoftheheadstall—itdoesn’tlooklikeanythingthatcouldgoontoahorse.Itjustlookslikeamessofleather.SoatfirstIcouldn’tmakesenseofanything.FinallyIfoundasortofsquarethingonashelf.IthadpiecesofpapercoveredinwritingIcouldn’tread,andpartwaythroughhadadrawingofahorse’sheadwiththeleatherpiecesfastenedround.IstudieditandtheleatherbitsuntilIunderstood.
Thatafternoon,whenItriedtobridleButter,ImusthavebeenusingtackthatfitoneofBecky’sbiggerhorses.Igottheheadpieceoverhisears,butthemetalbithungbelowhischin,andthepartthatshouldhavewrappedaroundhisheadwrappedaroundhisnostrilsinstead.Hesnortedandranoff,trailingthereins.Ittookmehalftheafternoontocatchhim,andthatwaswithJamie’shelp.
OnThursdayafternoon,whenwegothomefromshopping,Itriedasmallerbridle,andeverythingworkedatreat.ButtercametomewhenIcalled.Ifedhimapieceofdriedporridgefrommypocket.Iputthebridleonhim,anditfit.(Ididn’tknowthewordsthen:bridle,bit,reins,cheekpieceorheadstall.ButIknowthemnow.Andthethingwiththepiecesofpaperandthepictureofabridledhorsewasabook.Myfirst.)
Anyway,therestoodButter,bridled,andme,ready.WhenIclimbedontohimhesighed,andwenttoputhisheaddowntograze.Iyankedonthereins,andhethrewhisheadup,startled.Thatwasbetter.Ikickedhimabit,becauseI’ddiscoveredthiswouldmakehimmove.Hewalkedforward.Ipulledononesideofthereins,andheturned.Ipulledonboth,andhestopped.Itwasalleasy,Ithought.Ithumpedhimhardwithmylegs,totrytomakehimrun.Hethrewhisheaddown,bucked,andtossedmeoverhisears.Ilandedonmybackinthegrass.
Jamierantome.“Ada!Areyoudead?”
Iscrambledtomyfeet.“Notabit.”
IgotbackonandButtertrieditagain.ThistimeIkepthisheadup,andhecouldn’tbuck,notexactly,sohejumpedsidewaysandgotmeoffthatwayinstead.Ithunkedmyheadonthegroundandwentdizzyforamoment.
“Youcanhaveaturn,”IsaidtoJamie.
Heshookhishead.“Idon’twantone.Idon’tthinkhelikesit.”
Iconsideredthis.Buttermightnotlikeitrightthismoment,whenhewasusedtoeatingalldaylong.Buthe’dlikeitlater—later,whenwewererunning,outintheopen,soaringoverstonewalls.He’dlikeitthen.
Ilikeditrightaway.Fallingoffdidn’tscareme.Learningtoridewaslikelearningtowalk.Ithurt,butIkepton.IfMissSmithwonderedwhymynewblousewascoveredingrassstains,orhowmynewskirtgotaripnearthehem,sheneversaidathing.Shejustsighed,asusual,andthrewtheshirtintothewashboilerandmendedtheripwithashinymetalthinglikeatoothpickandapieceofthread.
“Whydoesshemakethatnoise?”Jamieaskedatnight.HeimitatedMissSmith’ssigh.Itwasn’tanoiseMamevermade.
Ishrugged.“Shedoesn’tlikeus.Shedidn’twantus,remember?”Itriednottomakemuchworkforher,soshewouldn’tforcetheironwomantotakeusback.Iwashedthedishes,andmadeJamiedry.Iwentalongwiththebathsandthehair-brushing,andIgotJamietocooperatetoo.Ievenmadehimeat
thestrangefood,thoughtheonlywaytodothatwasbythreateninghim.
“Howlongdowehavetostayhere?”heasked.
“Dunno,”Itoldhim.“’Tiltheendofthewar,maybe,or’tilMamcomestotakeusback.”
“Howlong’tilthewarends?”
“Coupleweeks,Iguess.Maybelonger.”
“Iwanttogohome,”Jamiesaid.
Hesaidthatallthetime,andIwastiredofhearingit.Iturnedonhim.“Why?”Isaid,nearlyspittingtheword.Ikeptmyvoicelow,butrageIdidn’tknowIfeltgushedoutofme.“Soyoucandoanythingyouwant,andIcandonothingatall?SoIcan’tbossyou?SoIcanbeshutupinaroom?”
Hisroundeyesfilledwithtears.“No,”hesaid,inawhisper.“Idon’tcareifyoubossme.Andsheprobablywon’tshutyouup,nowyou’vegotcrutchesandall.”
“EverybodythinksI’mnasty,backhome.TheythinkI’msomekindofmonster.”
“Theydon’t,”Jamiesaid,butheturnedhisfaceaway.“Theywon’t.”Hestartedcryinginearnest,mufflinghissobsinhispillow.“You’vegotcrutches!”hesaid.
“Crutchesdon’tchangemyfoot!”Isaid.“It’sstillthesame.Itstillhurts.I’mstillthesame!”
Jamiesaid,throughsobs,“AthomeIknowthewordsforthings.”
Iknewwhathemeant.IknewhowoverwhelmedIfeltsometimes,goingintoashopfullofthingsI’dneverseenbefore.“There’snothinggoodathome,”Isaid.“Youwerehungry.Remember?”
“No,”saidJamie.“Iwasn’teverhungry.Ineverwas.”
Ifhewasn’t,itwasonlybecauseIgavehimmostofthefood.“Iwas,”Isaid.“Iwashungry,andIwasalone,andIwastrapped,andrightnow,nomatterwhat,youhavetodowhatIsay.Youhavetostayherewithme.I’mthepersonwhokeepsyousafe.”
Jamie’ssobsslowed.Helookedupatme,hisbrowneyesstillbrimmingwithtears.HerolledoverontohisbackandIpulledthesheetuptohischin.Ipattedhisskinnyshoulder.“Isthissafe?”heasked.
Itdidn’tfeelsafe.Ineverfeltsafe.“Yes,”Isaid.
“You’relying.Iknowyouare.”Jamiefloppedontohisside,turninghisbacktome.Ilayflatonmyback,breathinginthehoneysuckle-scentedaircomingthroughtheopenwindows.Thecurtainsflutteredagainstthepalebluewalls.Iwasn’thungry.Ifellasleep.
Thenexttimewewentintotown,wesawanenormousposterpastedtothebrickwallnearthetrainstation.Jamiestoppedtostare.“What’sitsay?”heasked.
MissSmithreaditaloud,tappingthewordswithherfingersasshewent,“‘Yourcourage,yourcheerfulness,yourresolution,willbringusvictory.’”
“That’sstupid,”Isaid.“Itsoundslikewe’redoingallthework.”
MissSmithlookedatmeandlaughed.“You’reright,”shesaid.
“Itshouldbe,‘ourcourage,’”Isaid.“Ourcourage,ourcheerfulness,ourresolution,willbringusvictory.”
“Absolutely,”MissSmithsaid.“I’llwritetheWarOfficeandsuggestarevision.”
Icouldn’ttellifshemeantitornot.IhatedwhenIdidn’tunderstandher.
“Ishouldn’tunderestimateyou,shouldI?”MissSmithwenton.
HowshouldIknow?Iscowled.
“Oh,comeon,youcrankychild,”shesaid,touchingmyshoulderlightly.“Youcanhelpmepickouttheveg.”
Jamiewastuggingonmyarm.Hepointedacrossthestreet,toStephenWhiteholdingontothearmofaveryoldman.Actually,Isaw,itwastheoldmanholdingontoStephen.
“Afriendofyours?”MissSmithasked.
“No,”Isaid.“It’sBilly’sbrother.”
MissSmithnodded.“Youcangoandsayhello.”
Ifeltfunnydoingit,butIdidwanttoknowwhyStephenhadn’tgonehomewiththerestofhisfamily.Imademywayacrossthestreet.
Stephensawme.Hestopped,andwhenhedidtheoldmanstoppedtoo,turningoddmilkyeyestowardme.
Stephengesturedtowardthecrutches.“Good,”hesaid.“Youshouldhavehadthosebefore.”
Ithoughtofhimcarryingmetothestation,andmyfacewenthot.
“Who’sthis?”barkedtheoldman.“Who’reyoutalkingto?Somebodynew?”Hewaslookingstraightatme,theoldcoot.
Stephenclearedhisthroat.“It’sAda,”hesaid,“fromourlane.Ada—”
Themansaid,crossly,“That’snotthewayyoudoaproperintroduction.Haven’tItaughtyou?”
“Yes,sir.”Stephentookadeepbreath.“Sir,mayIpresentMissAdaSmith,fromLondon.Ada,thisisColonelRobertMcPherson,BritishArmy,retired.Ilivewithhimhere.”
Theoldmanstuckoneofhishandsintotheair.“Andnowyoushakemyhand,MissSmith,”hesaid.“Ifyou’refromthesameplacetheboy’sfrom,nobody’staughtyoupropermannerseither.Youshakemyhand,andyousay,‘Nicetomeetyou,ColonelMcPherson.’”
Itouchedhisgnarleddryhand.Hesnatchedmyfingersandshookthemupanddown.“Say,‘Nicetomeetyou,ColonelMcPherson,’”heordered.
“Nicetomeetyou,ColonelMcPherson,”Isaid.
“Andit’sapleasuretomeetyou,MissAdaSmith.Ifyou’reafriendofStephen’s,youmustcomearoundfortea.”Heletgoofmyhand.Iwipeditagainstmyskirt,notbecausehishandhadbeendirty—ithadn’t—butbecausetouchingastrangerseemedlikesuchanoddthingtodo.
Stephenwasgrinning,asthoughhefoundthewholeexchangefunny.
“Howcomeyoudidn’tgohome?”Iaskedhim.
“Oh,”hesaid,cuttinghiseyestowardColonelMcPherson,“MamthoughtitbetterifIstayedhereforawhile.”
“Noshedidn’t,”Isaid.“Shesaid—”
Stephensmackedmeonthearm,hard.Iglaredathim.Henoddedhisheadtowardtheoldman,frowning.“What?”Iasked.
“I’lltalktoyoulater,”Stephensaid.“Later,okay?”
“Okay,”Isaid,stillpuzzled.
Backontheothersideofthestreet,MissSmithandJamiestoodinfrontofasecondposter.“Thisone’sbetter,”Jamiesaid.
“‘Freedomisinperil,’”MissSmithread.“‘Defenditwithallyourmight.’”
Itwasbetter.“What’s‘might’?”Iasked.
“Imighthavesometea,”saidJamie.
“No—well,yes,”MissSmithsaid.“Butinthiscase,itmeansstrength.Force.Defenditwitheverythingyou’vegot.”
“Freedomisinperil,”Jamieshouted,runningahead.Hewavedhisarmswildly.“Freedomisinperil,defenditwitheverythingyou’vegot!”
“What’s‘freedom’?”IaskedasMissSmithandIfollowed.
“It’s—hmmm.I’dsayit’stherighttomakedecisionsaboutyourself,”MissSmithsaid.“Aboutyourlife.”
“Like,thismorningwedecidedtocomeintotown?”
“Morelikedecidingthatyouwanttobea—Idon’tknow—asolicitor.Whenyougrowup.Or,perhaps,ateacher.Ordecidingthatyou’dliketoliveinWales.Bigdecisions.IfGermanyinvades,we’llprobablystillbeabletogoshopping,butwemightnotgettodecidemuchelse.”
Asusual,Imostlydidn’tunderstandher,butIwastiredoftrying.“StephenWhitehastolivewithagrumpyoldman,”Isaid.
“Inoticed,”MissSmithsaid.“I’msorrytoseethecolonellookingsofrail.HewasoneofBecky’sfoxhuntingfriends—oneofthehuntin’,shootin’,andfishin’sort.Ididn’trealizehewassoold.”
“Hemademetouchhishand.”Ishuddered.
“That’sjustmanners,”MissSmithsaid.
“Sohesaid.”
MissSmithgrinned.Ididn’tknowwhy.“Skepticalchild,”shesaid,makingmefrownevenharder.Shegrabbedtheendofmyplaitandswungit.“Yourcourage,yourcheerfulness,yourresolution”—shewassayingitwrong.Iscowled—“willbringyouvictory,mydear.”
We’dreachedthegreengrocer’s.Jamiewaitedforus,holdingopentheshopdoor.IflickedmyplaitawayfromMissSmith.Iwasn’tgoingtoaskwhatanymorewordsmeant,Iwassotiredofwords,butMissSmithlookedatmeandansweredmyquestionanyway.“Victory,”shesaid,“meanspeace.”
Afewdayslatertheteacherwho’dbeenwithusonthetraincamebythehousetosaythatschoolwasstarting.Thevillagedidn’thaveanemptybuildingbigenoughtoholdtheevacuatedchildren,sotheevacueeshadtosharethevillageschool.Theregularvillagestudentswouldattendwiththeirregularteachersfromeightuntilnoon,andthentheevacueesandtheevacuatedteacherswouldgofromoneintheafternoonuntilfive.
TheteachergaveMissSmithdirectionstotheschool.“We’llseeyouMondayafternoon,”shesaidtoJamieasshegotuptoleave.
We’dallfourbeensittinginthemainroomofMissSmith’shouse,onthesquishypurplechairsandsofa.MissSmithhadmadetea.Nowshesmiledquizzicallyattheteacherandsaid,“Adatoo,ofcourse.”
Idon’tknowhowIlooked,butJamie’sandtheteacher’smouthsfellopen.Theteacher’smouthclosedfirst.“Ada’snotonourlist,”shesaid.“ItoldyouthatwhenIgaveyoutheirmother’saddress.We’veonlygotJamiedown.”
Jamiesaid,“Ada’snotallowedtogooutside.”
Isaidfiercely,“That’srubbish,itwasonlyeverinLondonandyouknowit.”
“Butnotschool,”saidJamie.
I’dneverbeen.Neverthoughtaboutgoing.Butwhynot?Icouldgetthereonmycrutches,itwasn’tthatfar.
MissSmitharguedthatlistsdidn’tmatter.Surelythelistsweren’taccurate,andbesides,manyofthechildrenhadalreadygonebacktoLondon.Therehadtoberoomforme.
“Room,yes,”theteachersaidslowly,“butisitappropriate?”ShestoodandtookabookoffoneofMissSmith’sshelves.“Here,”shesaid,holdingitopenandouttome,“readabitofthat.”
Ilookedatthepage.Therowsofmarksblurredandswambeforemyeyes.Ilookedup.Theteachernodded.MissSmithcameoverandputherarmaroundme.Itriedtopullaway,butMissSmithheldon.
“Yousee,”theteachersaidsoftly,“sheisn’teducable.”
Ididn’tknowwhateducablemeant.Ididn’tknowifIwaseducableornot.
“Shesimplyhasn’tbeentaught,”MissSmithsaid.“She’sfarfromstupid.Shedeservesachance.”
Theteachershookherhead.“Itwouldn’tbefairtotheothers.”
Thedoorclickedsoftlyassheleft.MissSmithgrabbedmyshoulderswithbothhands.“Don’tcry,”shesaid.“Don’tcry,sheisn’tright,Iknowyoucanlearn.Don’tcry.”
WhywouldIcry?Inevercried.ButwhenIshookmyselffreeofMissSmith’sgrasp,tearsshookloosefrommyeyesandsliddownmycheeks.WhywouldIcry?Iwantedtohitsomething,orthrowsomething,orscream.IwantedtogalloponButterandneverstop.Iwantedtorun,butIcouldn’trun,notwithmytwisted,ugly,horriblefoot.Iburiedmyheadinoneofthefancypillowsonthesofa,andthenIcouldn’thelpit,Ididcry.
Iwassotiredofbeingalone.
MissSmithsatdownonthesofabesideme.Sheputherhandonmyback.Isquirmedaway.“Don’tworry,”shesaid,almostlikeshecaredaboutme.“They’rewrong.We’llfindanotherway.
“Iknowyouaren’tstupid,”shecontinued.“Stupidpeoplecouldn’ttakecareoftheirbrotherthewayyoudo.Stupidpeoplearen’thalfasbraveasyou.They’renothalfasstrong.”
Stupid.Simple.Educable.Thoughtful.Alljustwords.Iwassotiredofmeaninglesswords.
Thatnight,afterourbaths,MissSmithcametothedoorwayofourbedroombeforewefellasleep.Shehesitated.“I’vebroughtsomething,”shesaid.“ThiswasmyfavoritebookwhenIwasalittlegirl.Myfatherusedtoreadittomeatbedtime.IthoughtI’dstartreadingittoyou.”
Iturnedmyheadaway.Morewords.Jamieasked,“Why,miss?”
“Iwishyou’dquitcallingmemiss,”shesaid,pullingthechairclosetoJamie’ssideofthebed.“MynameisSusan.Youshouldcallmethat.I’mreadingtoyoubecauseIthinkyou’llenjoyit.”
Jamiesaid,“Whywouldweenjoyit?”
MissSmithdidn’tanswer.Shesaid,“ThisbookiscalledTheSwissFamilyRobinson.Listen.”Sheclearedherthroatandbegan.“‘Formanydayswehadbeentempest-tossed.Sixtimesdarknessclosedoverawildandterrificscene…’”
Iburiedmyheaddeeperintomypillow.Thedroneofhervoicesounded
likeaflybuzzingagainstawindow.Ifellasleep.
Inthemorning,though,thosefirstwordsstuckinmyheaduntilIcouldn’tstanditanymore.“Miss?”Isaidatbreakfast.“What’s‘tempest-tossed’?”
MissSmithlookedatmeoverhermugoftea.“Caughtinastorm,”shesaid.“Windandrainandlightning,andifyou’reinaboat,atsea,yougettossedfromsidetoside.You’reallthrownabout,becauseofthestorm.”
IlookedatJamie.“That’sus,”Isaid.“Allthrownabout.We’retempest-tossed.”Henodded.
IturnedbacktoMissSmith.“What’s‘educable’?”
Sheclearedherthroat.“Abletobeeducated,”shesaid.“Abletolearn.Youareplentyabletolearn,Ada.Youareeducable.Iknowyouare.Thatteacheriswrong.”
Aplanezoomedoverhead.Jamiejumpedup.Weheardandsawplanesallthetimenow,becauseoftheairfield,butJamienevertiredofwatchingthem.Igotuptogoouttoo.
“Ada,”MissSmithsaid,“ifyoulike,thismorningI’llstarttoteachyoutoread.”
Iedgedaway.“No,thankyou,”Isaid,usingthemannersshetaughtme.“Iwanttogolookattheplanes.”
Sheshookherhead.“That’snottrue.”
“IwanttotalktoButter.”
MissSmithleanedforward.“You’reperfectlycapableoflearning.Youmustn’tlistentopeoplewhodon’tknowyou.Listentowhatyouknow,yourself.”
WhatIknew,I’dlearnedlookingoutasinglewindow.Iknewnothing.Wordssheused—capable,tempest-tossed.Evenlittlewords,sea.Whatwasasea?BoatscamedowntheRiverThames.Wasaseathesameasariver?Iknewnothing,nothingatall.
“Ineedtoseethepony,”Isaid.
Shesighed.“Suityourself,”shesaid,andturnedaway.
I’dfoundabrushinthestorageroomandIuseditalloverButter’syellowcoat.Dustandloosehairflewup.Icouldtellhelikedit.“Good,isn’tit?”Iaskedhim.“Getstheitchesout.”
Myskindidn’titchthewayitusedto.Thestinkylotionclearedupthe
roughpatchesonmyskin,andmyheadfeltbetternowthatMissSmithbrushedmyhairformeeverymorning.Shebraideditformeintoasingleplaitdownmyback,soitstayedneater,outofmywayinthewind,andwasn’tastangledatnight.ShebrushedmethewayIbrushedButter,whichwasoddnomatterhowIthoughtaboutit.
“Look,”Jamiecried,pointingtothesky.“It’sadifferentone!”Heranacrossthepasture,tryingtogetabetterviewoftheplane.
IrodeButtertwicearoundthefieldbeforehegotmeoff.
AtlunchMissSmithsaidshewouldwalkJamietoschoolforthefirstday.“You’llbeallrightbyyourself,Ada?”sheasked.“Oryoucouldcome.”
Ishookmyhead.Iwasn’tgoingneartheschool.Andthatturnedouttobelucky.TheminuteMissSmithleftwithJamieIclimbedbackontoButter,andsoIwastherewhenthestrangehorsejumpedintoourfield.
Ithappenedlikethis.IwaswalkingButterincircles,practicingmakinghimturn.Iheardasoundlikehoofbeatscomingfromtheroad,andIstoppedtolook,butcouldn’tyetseeanythingthroughthetrees.Aplanetookofffromtheairfieldandscreamedstraightoverourheadsjustasahorseandridercameintoview.Butterdidn’tmindtheplane—hesawdozensofplanestakeoffeverydaynow—buttheotherhorse,abigbrownone,wheeledinfright.Hisriderpulledthereinssharplytokeephimfrombolting,buthewheeledagain,andthenjumpedforward,offtheroadandontotheverge,nearlychestingthestonewallintoourfield.Theriderbouncedlooseinthesaddle,andthehorse,frantic,madeasuddenleapupandoverthewall.Theridertumbledsidewaysanddisappeared.
ThestrangehorsegallopedstraightforButter,reinsflying,loosestirrupswallopinghissides.Butterspookedandspun,tossingme,andtogetherbothhorsesrantothefarsideofthefield.Theygallopedaboutforabit,theidiots,butIwasn’tpayingattentiontothem.Iranforthefallenriderasfastasmybadfootwouldletme.I’drecognizedher:thelittleiron-facedgirl.Theonewho’dcalledmeout.
Shelayfacedowninthemuddyweedsontheverge.Iscrambledoverthewalljustasshe,blinking,rolledherselfover.Sheopenedhereyesandletoutastringofcursesthatwouldhavebeenathomeinmylane,letalonethedockyards.Sheendedwith,“Ihatethatstupidbloodyhorse.”
BloodyisnotsomethingMissSmithletJamieormesay.Itwasaswearword,abadone.
“Ihatehim,”sherepeated,lookingatme.
“Areyoumuchhurt?”
Shestartedtositup,thenfellback,nodding.“Dizzy,”shesaid.“Andmyshoulderhurtssomethingawful.BetIbrokemycollarbone.”Shetouchedaplacebelowherneck,andwinced.“Mymotherbrokeherslastyear,hunting.Easytodo.Where’sthewretchedhorse?”
Ilookedoverthewall.“Grazingnexttothepony.Actslikenothing’swrong.”
Shepulledherselfslowlytoasittingposition.“Hewould.Ihatehim.Hebelongstomybrother.”Shestartedtostand,gaveasmallcry,andsatback
downwithathump.Herskinwentpale,thenaninterestingshadeofgray.
“Betterstaystill,”Itoldher.Iwenttofetchthehorse.Hisfrontfootwastangledinthereins,butotherwiseheseemedfine,andhestoodpolitelywhileIuntangledhim.HewasbiggerthanButter,andfarmorehandsome—beautifulshinycoat,longelegantlegs.HesniffedmyhandsthewayButteroftendid.“Notreats,”Itoldhim.
Istartedtowalkhimbacktothegirl,buthonestly,myfoothurt,andalsothehorsewassopretty.Ipulledthereinsoverhishead,putmygoodfootintotheleftstirrup,andhauledmyselfaboard.
ThesaddlefeltsnugandcomfortableafterthelooseslidingexpanseofButter’sbareback.Icouldn’tputmybadfootintoastirrup,butIlikedthefeelofthestirruponmygoodfoot.Igatheredthereinsup,andthehorsedelicatelyarchedhisneck.
Ithumpedhimwithmyheels,andhenearlybolted.Mymistake.ClearlythehorserespondedtomuchsoftersignalsthanButter.Ipulledhimback,andusedmylegsverygently.Hewalkedforward,afine,long-striding,loopysortofwalk.
Nowthegirlwasstanding,hangingontothewall.Shecalled,“Takehimaroundbythegate.”
Ihadabetteridea.Thehorsehadjumpedin;itcouldjumpout.Ikickedhimforward.Hetookafewenormouslybouncystrides,thensettledintoanicesmoothrun.Oh,Ithought,mybreathcatchinginmythroat.Thiswaswhatitfeltliketomovefastwithoutpain.Ipulledonthereinsandaimedthehorsestraightforthewall.Heneverhesitated—upandoverinonesmoothbound.Flying.Iheldontohismanewithbothhandsandflewwithhim.Welandedtogetherontheotherside.Ilaughedoutloud.
“Show-off,”thegirlsaid,butshewaslaughingtoo.“Luckyyouthereisn’tanotherairplane.”
“Luckyme,”Isaid.“Canyouridehimnow?”
Shemovedherrightarmexperimentally,andwinced.“I’llneverbeabletoholdhim,”shesaid.“Notone-handed.Andmyheadhurtsterribly.CanIgetupbehindyou?”
Iscoochedforward.Thesaddlewasplentybig.Itookmyfootoutofthestirrupandhelpedpullherontothehorse.“Youcanhavethefootthings,”Isaid.
Sheputhergoodarmaroundmywaist.“They’recalledstirrups,”shesaid,slippingherfeetintothem.“JustgobackthewayIcamefrom.Andwalk,
please.Myheadfeelslikeit’ssmashedintwo.Atrotwouldbetheendofme.”
HernamewasMargaret.HermotherwastheheadoftheWomen’sVolunteerService,whichwaswhyshewasinchargeoftheevacuees.“Butthat’snotall,”Margaretsaid.“Shedoeswarworkallthetime.She’stryingtostaybusysoshedoesn’thavetimetoworryaboutJonathan.Shewantstowinthewarherselfbeforehe’spartofthefighting.”Jonathan,Margaret’sbrother,waslearningtoflyplanesatadifferentairfield,farfromhere.He’dleftOxfordtodoit,Margaretsaid.
“Youtalklikeourevacuees,”shesaid.“Thesamefunnyaccent.”
Isaid,“Youtalkfunnytome.”
Shelaughed.“Iguess.Butyoucanride,andourevacuees,theonesstayingwithus,Imean,areallterrifiedofhorses.Where’dyoulearntorideinLondon?”
“Didn’t.Justteachingmyselfhere.”
“Well,you’reprettygood.”
“Onaposhhorselikethisone,anyonewouldbe,”Isaid.“Ourponyhasmeoffhalfadozentimesaday.”
“Poniesaresnakes,”shereplied.“Sneakydevils.Youshouldseewhatminegetsupto.”
Itturnedoutthehorsewewereridingwasherbrother’shunter,andhermotherwasmakingherkeepitexercised.“JustuntilIleaveforschool,”shesaid.“Whichshouldhavebeenlastweek,onlythey’removingtheschool,evacuatingit,Isuppose,sowe’restartinglate.AndIhatethishorse,Ido,andhehatesme.Goeslikealambforanybodyelse.Mumwon’tbelieveme,andhe’sworsewhenhe’sbyhimself,andhewon’tponywithmymare,soI’mstuckfightinghimaloneforanhouraday.AllthestableladshaverunofftojoinupandGrimesisoverworkedandthere’snobodytogowithme.”
Allthistalk—whichIonlyhalfunderstood—seemedtosuddenlyexhausther.Shesaggedagainstmyshoulder.“You’reallright?”Iasked.
“Notreally,”shesaid.“Ifeelsick.”
Thehorseswungauthoritativelyaroundacorner.Ihopedheknewwherehewasgoing.Heseemedto,andanyway,Margaretwasn’ttellingmeanythingdifferent.
Sheswayedsuddenly.IwishedIwasbehindher,soIcouldholdhersteady.“Maggie?”Isaid.TherewasaMargaretonourlaneandeveryone
calledherMaggie.“Maggie,hangon.”
Ipulledherhandfartheraroundmywaist.Sheleanedherheadbetweenmyshoulderblades,mutteringtoherself.Iworkedhardtokeepthehorsesteadybutwalkingfast.Ididn’tknowhowfarwehadtogo.
“M’motherlikesJonathanbetterthanme,”Maggiesaid,moreloudly.“Shedoesn’treallylikegirls.She’lldoanythingforhim,butshe’salwayscrosswithme.”
“Mymamlikesmybrotherbettertoo,”Isaid.“Shehatesme,becauseofmyfoot.”
Icouldfeelherleanovertolookatmybadfoot.Iwasgladthatitwasbandaged.Sheswayed,offbalance.“Careful,”Isaid.
“Mmm,”shesaid.
“Abrewer’scartranoverit,”Isaid.
“Oh,”Maggiesaid.“Well,that’sasillyreasontohateyou.”
Thehorseclompedon.Maggie’sheadbouncedagainstmyshoulder.“Itwasn’tabrewer’scart,”Isaid,afterapause.“It’saclubfoot.”Thatwordthedoctorhadused.
“Oh,clubfoot.”Hervoiceslurred.“I’veheardofthat.Wehadafoalbornwithaclubfoot.”
Thehorseturnedagain,downalonggraveldriveplantedonbothsideswithstraightrowsoftrees.Hesteppedfasternow,swinginghishead.Maggiegroaned.“I’mgoingtobesick,”shesaid.
“Notonthehorse,”Isaid.
“Mmm,”shesaid,andwas,butsheleanedoverfarenoughthatmostofthesickmissedthesaddle.Thenshenearlyfelloff.Igrabbedher.Thehorseswunghisheadimpatiently.
“He’salwayshappiergoinghome,”Maggiemurmured.“Rottenbugger.”
“What’safoal?”Iasked.
“What?Oh—ababyhorse.Wehadahorsebornwithaclubfoot.That’swhatGrimescalledit.”Sheswayedagain.“Ifeelawful.”
Itriedtoimaginealittlehorsewithatwistedhoof.Butter’shooveswerelongandcurling,buttheydidn’ttwist.Whatwouldahorsedoifitcouldn’twalk?Nocrutchesforhorses.Werethere?
“Diditdie,then?”Iasked.
“What?Oh,thehorse.Theclubfoothorse.No.Grimesfixedit.Grimesandthefarrier.”
Thetreesopenedupandinfrontofuswasahugestonebuilding,biglikeIimaginedthedockwarehousesmustbe.BigliketheLondontrainstation.Itcouldn’tberight.Whatevertheplacewas,itwasn’tahouse.
Thehorseshookhisheadatmyattemptstoreinhimin.Insteadofheadingstraightforthemassivebuilding,hewentaroundtotheside,towhatevenIcouldrecognizewasastable.
Anelderlymancameforwardatasortofrunninglimp.Grimes,Ithought.“What’shappened?”heasked.
“OurMaggie’shurt,”Itoldhim.Shetumbledsidewaysintohisarms.Hestaggered,butheldontoher.“Shefelloffan’smackedherhead,”Isaid.“Hurthershouldertoo.”
Grimesnodded.“Canyoustaywiththehorseamoment?I’llgethertothehouse.”
“Ofcourse,”Isaid,tryingmakemyvoicesoundlikeMaggie’s.Grimesfixedahorsewithaclubfoot.Fixedaclubfoot.How?
HecarriedMaggieaway.Islidoffthehorse—averylongwaytotheground—andlookedaround.Therewerestallsjustliketheclosed-uponesatMissSmith’shouse,onlymoreofthem,andfancier,andmostlyoccupied.Horseslookedovertheopentopsofthestalls’half-doors,theirearsprickedwithinterest.Someofthemmadelittlemurmuringsounds.
IledMaggie’sbrother’shorseintoanemptystall.Thehorsethrusthisheadintoawaterbucketandthenintoapileofhay.Igotthesaddleoffhim—nothard,justbucklesundertheflapbits—andslungitoverthedoor,thengotthebridleoff.Ishutthehorseinthestallandcarriedthetackandbridletotheirstoreroom,whichIfoundwithoutanytrouble.Onerowofracksheldsaddles,andanotherbridles,andIputthekitIheldintotheemptyspaces.IwanderedaroundlookingattheotherhorsesuntilGrimesreturned.
“Thankyou,”hesaid.“She’sinbednow,andm’ladyhasphonedforthedoctor.Don’tthinkthere’sanythingmorewecando.Shedoesn’tknowwheresheisrightnow.Yougetthatsometimes,withasmackonthehead.”
“Sheseemedallrightatfirst,”Isaid.“Shegotworseasweweregoing.”
“I’mnotsurprised.”Hepointedtomyfoot.“Whathappened?Yougethurttoo?”
Ilookeddown.Asmallbloodstainwasseepingthroughthebandage.“Oh,”Isaid.“Itdoesthat,sometimes.WhenIdon’thavemycrutches.”Ihesitated,
thenadded,“It’saclubfoot.”
Grimesdidn’toffertofixit.Henoddedandsaid,“I’llgiveyouaridehomeinthecar,then.”
Grimestookmehomeverynicely.Hethankedmeforhelping“MissMargaret.”ItoldhimIwasgladto,especiallysinceitmeantIgottoridesuchabigfancyhorse.Helaughedabitatthat,andpattedmyhand,whichwasoddbutokaywithme.IfeltcompletelyhappyasIwentthroughthefrontdoor.IwastotallyunpreparedforMissSmith’srage.
Shecameatmelikeasmallyellow-hairedwitch,eyesblazing.“WherehaveyouBEEN?”sheshouted.“I’venearlygonetothepolice.Pony’sinthefieldwithabridleon,you’renowhere.It’salmostfouro’clock.Whatonearthwereyouthinking?”
Shecametowardme.Iducked,myarmsaroundmyhead.“I’mnotgoingtohityou!”sheroared.“ThoughIfeellikeit.Youhalfdeserveawhipping,makingmeworrylikethat.”
Worry?WorrythewayIworriedoverJamie,inLondon?Idroppedmyhandstomylap—I’dsatdowninoneofthepurplechairs—andstaredather,perplexed.
“Iknowyoudon’tlikestrangers,”shesaid,morequietly.“Icouldn’timagineareasonyou’dgointotown.Ididn’tthinkyou’dgototheairfield,butIwenttheretoaskanyway,andtheyhadn’tseenyou.Hereit’sthefirsttimeIleftyoualone—Icouldn’timaginewhatcouldgowrong.Ididn’thaveanyideawhereyoucouldbe.”
“IthoughtIwasallowedtogooutside,”Isaid.Myfoothurt,worsethanithadfordays.Ihadn’twalkedsofarwithoutmycrutchessinceI’dfirstcomehere.Ihadascratchdownmyarmtoo,thathadleftathintrailofblood.
“Youcan’tleavewithouttellingme,”MissSmithsaid.Shelookedlessangry,butstillunpredictable.“You’vegottoletmeknowwhereyougo.”
HowcouldIhavedonethat?“IhadtohelpMaggie,”Isaid.Itoldheraboutthehorse,howtheplanespookedit,howMaggiefell.
MissSmithsnorted.“Maggie?Who’sMaggie?”
Itriedtoexplain.Itoldaboutthebighorse,andthehouseandstables.
“TheHonorableMargaretThorton?”MissSmithasked,hereyeswidening.“LadyThorton’sdaughter?”
Ishrugged.“Isuppose.She’sgotabrothercalledJonathan.”
“ThegirlwemetwithLadyThorton,lastweekinthemarket?”
Inodded.
MissSmithsatdownintheotherchair.“Thewholestory,”shedemanded.
Itoldthewholestory,exceptforthepartwhereMaggiesaidbadwords.MissSmithstraightenedup.Herfacelookedgrim.“So,”shesaid.“YourodeJonathanThorton’sprizehunterdoublewithMissMargaret,backtoherhome?”
“Yes,”Isaid.
“Idon’tbelieveyou,”MissSmithsaid.
Ididn’tknowwhattosay.Itoldlies,ofcourseIdid.ButIwouldn’tlieaboutthis.I’dbeenhelpful.I’ddoneagoodjob,gettingMaggieandthehorsehome.Grimeshadsaidso.He’dtippedhiscaptome,whenIgotoutofthecar.
“Iwouldn’tknowwhereshelived,”Isaid,“ifitwasn’ttrue.”
“Oh,Ibelieveyousawthehouse,”MissSmithsaidbitterly.“IbelieveMissMargaretrodeby,andyousawthemandfollowedthem.Lookatthestateyou’rein—footbleedingagainandeverything.IbelieveyousawMargaret,thehorse,andthehouse.Ijustdon’tbelieveanyoftherestofit.”
Mymouthopened,thenshut.Ididn’tknowwhattosay.
“Gotoyourroom,”MissSmithsaid.“Washyourselfoffinthebathroom,thengotoyourroomandstaythere.Idon’twanttoseeyouagaintoday.I’llsendJamieupwithsomesupperoncehe’shome.”
HourslaterJamiecameupwithaplateforme.“Howwasschool?”Iasked.
“Ihateit,”hesaid,hiseyesdark.“I’mnevergoingback.”
LaterstillMissSmithcameupwithherhorriblebook.ShesatdownonthechaironJamie’ssideofthebed,andsheopenedthebookwithoutlookingatme.Iignoredhertoo.Jamiesnuggedhimselfintotheblankets.“Whathappensnext?”heasked,asthoughthebookwassomethinghecaredabout.
“You’llsee,”MissSmithsaid,smilingathim.Sheopenedthebookandstartedtoread.
NextmorningatbreakfastJamiesaidagainhewasn’tgoingbacktoschool.“Ofcourseyouare,”MissSmithsaid.“Youwanttolearntoread.ThenyoucanreadSwissFamilyRobinsonallbyyourself.”
Jamielookedupatherthroughhiseyelashes.“I’dratheryoureadittome,”hesaidsweetly.MissSmithsmiledathim,andthethoughtranthroughmethatIhatedthemboth.
Outinthefieldthatafternoon,Icouldn’tmakeButtergofasterthanawalk.Itriedandtried.Ikickedandsqueezedwithmylegs.IevensnappedabranchoffatreeandsmackedButter’ssidewithit.Helurchedforwardforafewstumblingsteps,butdroppedbackalmostimmediatelytohisusualshuffle.Itwasn’thisfaultthathewasn’telegantlikeJonathan’shorse,butIwassurehecoulddobetterifhetried.
MissSmithopenedthebackdoor.“Ada,”shecalled,“comehere,please.”
Right.IpretendedIhadn’theard,andturnedButtersoourbacksidesfacedher.
“Ada,”shecalledagain,“you’vegotavisitor.”
Maggie?Grimes?Mam?IslidoffButter,pulledthebridleoffhishead—Iwasn’tgoingtogetchewedoutforleavingitonhimagain—hobbledtomycrutchesleaningagainstthewall,andwentintothehouseasquicklyasIcould.
ThevisitorwasLadyThorton.Shewassmiling.Herfacelookeddifferentwhenshesmiled.
“She’scometothankyou,”MissSmithsaid,inanoddlystiffvoice.
Istoodinthedoorway,staringatthem,hidingmyrightfootbehindmyleft.TobreakthesilenceIsaid,“Howisshe?Maggie,Imean.”
LadyThorton—Maggie’smum—pattedtheemptyspotonthesofabesideher.Isatdownonit,foldedmyhands,andslidmyrightfootbehindmyleft.
“She’smuchbettertoday,thankyou,”LadyThortonsaid.“Shewokewithaheadache,butsheknowswhereandwhosheis.”
“Sheseemedallrightwhenshefirstcameoff,”Isaid.“Shegotworseaswewenton.”
LadyThortonnodded.“Headinjuriescanbelikethat.Shetellsmeshedoesn’tremembermuchofwhathappened.Sheremembersyouwerethere,butthat’saboutall.Grimesinthestabletoldmehowyoubroughtherhome.”
IglancedatMissSmith.Herfacestilllookedstiff,likeitwasmadefromcardboard.Isaid,noddingtowardher,“Shedidn’tbelieveme,thatIrodethathorsean’all.”
LadyThortonopenedaboxnearherfeet.“Imightnothavebelieveditmyselfwithoutawitness.That’snotaneasyhorse.”
“Helikesme.”ItslippedoutbeforeIthought,butIrealizeditwastrue.Jonathan’shorsedidlikeme.
NowLadyThorton’sfacelookedstrained.“Thenyou’rethethirdpersonthatanimalhaseveractuallyliked,afterGrimesandmyson.”Sheshookherhead,once,sharply,andherfacetookonitsofficiallook.Theiron-facelook.“Ibroughtoversomeclothingforyouandyourbrother.Yourbrother’sisfromanassortmentofvillagefamilies.Yoursismostlyfrommydaughter.Thingsshe’soutgrown.Here.”
Shelaidapairofyellowpantsandapairofanklebootsacrossmylap.Istaredatthem.Thepantsweremadeofathick,toughfabric,withlegsthatballoonedwideatthetop,thennarrowedandbuttonedbelowtheknee.Irecognizedthem:Maggiehadwornapairjustlikethemthedaybefore.“Forriding,”Isaid.I’dneverwornpantsbefore.Itwouldbeeasier,onButter.
LadyThortonnodded.“Yes.I’msureMissSmith’shelpingyou,butIdidn’tthinkshe’dbeabletofindyoutheproperclothes.”
MissSmithsaid,verysoftly,“Ihaven’thelpedher.She’sdoneitonherown.”
LadyThortonlookedmeupanddown.“Margaretneedstostayinbedafewdays.Shewon’tbeabletorideagainbeforesheleavesforschool.Butifyouhavequestionsabouthorses,youcanalwaysgotoourstablesandaskGrimes.Iknowhe’llhelpyou.”
Inoticedshewasn’tofferingtohelpmeherself.Isaid,“Butterdoesn’twanttogofast.Idon’tknowhowtomakehim.”
Shegavealittlelaugh,andtappedmykneeasshestood.“Persistence,”shesaid.“Poniesarestubbornuntiltheyknowwho’sboss.Enjoythenewthings.”
MissSmithsawherout.Whenshecamebackin,shesatdowninLadyThorton’splace.“I’msorry,”shesaid,afteramoment’spause.“Ididn’tmeantocallyoualiar.”
Sureshedid.Ishrugged.“Iamone.”
“Iknow.”Shebegantoemptytherestoftheboxofclothes.ShortsforJamie,sweaters,shirts.Thenshestraightened.“No,”shesaid.“That’swrong,Idon’tknowthat.Webothknowyousometimestelllies,butIcan’tsaythatitmakesyoualiar.DoyouunderstandwhatImean?”
Blouses,sweaters,skirtsforme.Areddresswithlaceonthecuffs.Coatsforwinter.
Itouchedthegirl’scoat.Maggie’scoat.“WillIstillbehereinwinter?”
“Idon’tknow,”MissSmithsaid.“DoyouunderstandwhatIjustsaid?Thedifferencebetweenlyingandbeingaliar?”
Ishrugged.MissSmithpersisted.“Ifyouhavetotelllies,oryouthinkyouhaveto,tokeepyourselfsafe—Idon’tthinkthatmakesyoualiar.Liarstelllieswhentheydon’tneedto,tomakethemselveslookspecialorimportant.That’swhatIthoughtyouweredoingyesterday.Iwaswrong.”
Ididn’twanttotalkaboutit.“WhyisMaggiegoingawayforschool?”Iaskedinstead.“Whydoesn’tshegotoschoolwhereJamiedoes?”
“Richpeopleeducatetheirchildrenatboardingschools,”MissSmithreplied.“Margaretwon’thavetoleaveschoolatfourteentowork,likemostchildrendo.She’llstayatschooluntilshe’ssixteenorseventeen.Ifthewar’soverbythenshe’llprobablygotofinishingschool.Shemightevengotouniversity.”
“Whatkindofschooldidyougoto?”Iasked.
“Aboardingschool,”shesaid.“Notbecausemyfamilywasrich—theyweren’t.Iwasbrightandmyfatherisaclergyman,andsomeschoolsofferscholarshipstothebrightdaughtersofclergymen.”
“What’saclergyman?”
“Youknow—avicar.Amanwhorunsachurch.”
The“youknow”keptmefromaskingmore.“Churchesarewherethebellsare.”
“Yes,”saidMissSmith.“Onlytheyaren’tgoingtobeallowedtoringthebellsanymore.Onlyincaseofinvasion,towarnus.”
Ismoothedthepantswithmyhand.TomorrowI’dwearthem.Theleftboottoo.
“Ada?”MissSmithsaid.“IwishI’dbelievedyou.”
Idartedaquickglanceatherandshruggedagain.
WhenJamiecamehomeitwasobvioushe’dbeencrying,buthewouldn’tsaywhy.Hewetthebedinthenightandwokeupmiserable.Outside,graycloudswerespittingrain.“Ican’tgotoschoolintherain,”Jamiesaid.
“Ofcourseyoucan,”MissSmithreplied.Shelookedawful,herhaireverywhichwayandgreatdarkcirclesunderhereyes.Sheheldhermugofteainbothhandsandstaredintoit.
“Iain’tgoing,”Jamiesaid.
“Don’tstartwithme,”MissSmithreplied.
Wesatdowntobreakfastandaplaneblewupattheairfield.
Itcrashed,Iguess.Itdidn’tblowupintheair,itblewupbecauseitslammedintotheground.Thegastankruptured.Welearnedthatlater.Itsoundedlikeabombexploding—likeabombinButter’spasture.Wealljumpedup,knockingoverdishesandchairs.Irantowardthedoor,towardButter,butMissSmithgrabbedmeandJamieandpushedusbeneaththetable.Afteramomentwhennothingelsehappenedshegotupandlookedoutthewindow.“Oh,”shesaid,“it’sanairplane.”
Underbillowsofblacksmokeacrosstheroad,wecouldseeorangeflamesandtwistedpiecesofmetal.Jamiecriedout,andwouldhaveruntotheairfield,butMissSmithheldhimback.“Nocivilians,”shesaid.“Nocivilians,notnow.See?They’regettingthefireout.”Wecouldseeservicemenandwomen,tinyinthedistance,workingfranticallyallaroundtheburningplane.
“Whowasthepilot?”Jamieasked.“Whowasthecrew?”
“Wedon’tknowthem,”MissSmithsaid,strokinghishair.
“Iknewthem,”Jamiesaid.
Iwasn’tsurehowJamiecouldknowthem—therewasabigfencearoundtheairfieldnow,andheknewhewasn’tallowedthere,thoughofcoursethatwouldn’treallystophim—butIdidn’tsayanything.Iwasn’tgoingtocallhimaliar,notoveradeadairman.
“Iwonderwhatkindofplaneitwas,”MissSmithsaid.
“ALysander,”Jamiesaid.“Atransportplane.Itcouldhavehadtenpeople
onboard.”Welookedathim.Hesaid,“That’swhatitsoundedlike.Beforethecrash.”
Iwassousedtothesoundofplanes,Ineverpaidattentiontothemanymore.Thedifferentkindsofplanesdidn’tsounddifferenttome.
JamieleanedintoMissSmith’sarms.Sheheldhimtight,rockinghimsoftlybackandforth.Istoodstill,absorbingwhatIwasseeing:Jamieturningforcomforttosomeoneotherthanme.
WeranintoLadyThortoninthevillagewhenwewereshoppinglaterthatweek,andshetoldusthatMaggie—shecalledherMargaret,ofcourse—hadgoneofftoherschool,andwouldn’tbehomeuntilChristmas.Iwassorrynottoseeheragain.Iwantedtotalktoherwhenshehadn’tjustbeenhitonthehead.Iwantedtoknowifshe’dstilllikemewhenshewasn’twoozy.
Jamiekepthatingschool.Heskippedtwice,andafterthattheteacherwroteMissSmithanote,andMissSmithstartedtowalkhimtoschooleveryafternoon.Oncehewasinsidethebuilding,hewastrapped.
Iknewhowitfelttobetrapped.I’dbeentrappedallsummerinourflat.I’llbeentrappedallmylifeinourflat.ButIcouldn’tunderstandwhyJamiehatedschool.Mostofthekidsfromourneighborhoodbackhomewerethere,includingallofJamie’sfriendsexceptBillyWhite.Theyhadbreakswheretheygottorunandplayintheschoolyard.Plus,prettysoonhe’dbeabletowriteandread,andthenMissSmithwouldn’thavetoreadusSwissFamilyRobinsonatnightanymore.Jamiecouldreadittohimself.
“Idon’twanttotalkaboutit,”hesaid,whenweaskedhim.“I’msorry,”hesaid,whenhewetthebed,whichhedideverynightnow.“Iwanttogohome,”hetoldme.
“You’dmissMissSmith,”Isaidnastily.
“Iwouldn’t,”hesaid.“I’dhaveMam.”
IcouldimagineMammighthavesoftenedtowardus,oratleasttowardJamie.Sheprobablymissedusatleastalittle.
“Theyhaveschoolathometoo,”Isaid.
Heshrugged.“Mamwon’tmakemego.”Iknewthiswasprobablytrue.
MeanwhileMissSmithwasinafitbecauseMamhadn’trespondedtoanyofherletters.Sheaskedme,“Doesyourmotherknowhowtoread?”
Ishrugged.HowwouldIknow?
“Surelythere’sasocialworker—apriest—someonewhocouldreadittoher,andwriteoutherreply?”
Probablytherewas,butMamwouldneveraskthem.“Why’sitmatter?”Iasked.SolongasMamknewwherewewere,andcouldcomegetuswhenshedecidedto.“Doyouwanthertocometakeushome?”
MissSmithgavemeastrangelook.“Idonot.Youknowwhyitmatters.”
Ididn’t.
SometimesIwassoangryabouteverythingIdidn’tknow.
MissSmithboughtacresofblackmaterialfortheblackout.We’dbeenunderblackoutregulationssincethefirstdayofevacuation,beforethewarevenbegan.Itmeantthatnobody,nohouses,buildings,shops,oreventhingslikebusesorcars,wassupposedtoshowanysortoflightoutsideafterthesunwentdown.ThatwayiftheGermanscametobombatnight,theywouldn’tbeabletoseewhereanyofthecitiesorvillageswere.Itwashardertohitadarkplacethanalitone.
ForthefirstmonthMissSmithhadn’tbotheredcoveringthewindows—shejustdidn’tputanylightsonatnight.JamieandIwenttobedbeforethesunwentdown,sowedidn’tcare,andMissSmithcouldsitandbroodinadarkroomaseasilyasinabrightone.Butnowthesunwassettingearlier,soMissSmithmadeblackoutcurtainsfortheupstairswindows,andfabricstretchedoverframesforthewindowsdownstairs.
WestayeduplateoneSaturday,puttingalltheblackoutup,thenturningonallthelightsinside.JamieandIwalkedaroundthehouseoutside,lookingforanychinksoflight,andyellingtoMissSmithwhenwesawone.Sheadjustedthecurtainsuntilthechinksweregone.
Afterwardshemadeushotcocoa.“Verygood,”shesaid.“I’msurewe’llgetusedtohavingthehousethisdark.”Shelookedalmosthappy,almostcheerfulforachange.
IwonderedwhatitwouldbelikeifJamieandIreallywerestuckhereallwinter.Ihatedwinterintheflat,socold.MissSmithhadafireplaceinthemainroom.Shecouldburncoal.
“Ihaven’thadmysewingmachineoutsinceBeckydied,”shecontinued.“Itfeltgoodtobemakingsomething,evenifitwasonlythoseawfulcurtains.IsupposeImightrunupafewthingsforthetwoofyou.”
MissSmithhadmadeustryonalltheclothesLadyThortonbrought,andgivebackwhateverdidn’tfit.She’dalsothrownawaytheclotheswe’dcome
fromLondonin.Still,Ihadthreeblouses,twoskirts,twosweaters,adress,acoat,andapairofridingpants:moreclothesthanI’downedinmylifetime.Icouldn’timagineneedinganythingelse.“Dressinggowns,”MissSmithsaid,asthoughreadingmymind.“Forwinter.Somethingwarmyoucanridein.Perhapssomethingpretty?Thereddressisverynice,butit’snotthebestcolorforyou.”Shelookedatmeinawaythatgavemethefeelingofbeingafishonaslab.“Blue,perhaps.Oranicebottlegreen.Green’sagoodcolorwithyourcomplexion.Velvet?IlovedthevelvetdressIhadasagirl.”
“Ihatevelvet,”Isaid.
Shelaughed.“Youwouldn’tknowvelvetifyourunderwearwasmadefromit,”shesaid.“Ada,that’safib.Why?”
Isaid,“Idon’twantyoumakingmethings.”
Hersmilefaded.“Whynot?”
Ishrugged.IhadmorethanIneeded.MorethanIfeltcomfortablewith,really.IwasstillthegirlI’dseeninthetrainstationmirror,stillthefeeble-mindedgirlstuckbehindawindow.Thesimpleone.IwasokaywithwearingMaggie’scastoffs,butIknewmylimits.
Jamieleanedforward.“Willyoumakemeavelvet?”heasked.
MissSmith’ssmilereturned.“Iwillnot,”shesaid.“I’llmakeyousomethingstoutandmanly.”
Jamienodded.“Likeinthebook,”hesaid.
Inthebook,thatstupidSwissFamilyRobinsonwasallthetimemakingandfindingthings.Itwaslikemagic,itwas,howthefatherwouldthinkitwasashametheydidn’thaveanywheatforbread,andnextthingthey’dstumbleontoawholewheatfield,orawildpigwouldrunoutoftheforestjustwhentheygotahankeringforbacon.They’dbuildamilltogrindthewheattoflour,andasmokehouseforthepork,outofnailsandwoodtheyjusthappenedtohaveonhand.Jamielovedit;hebeggedformoreofthestoryeverynight.Iwastiredofthoseidiotslivingonanislandwitheverythingtheycouldeverwant.Ididn’tcareifIneverheardanotherword.
“Youwon’thavetimetomakeusanything,”Isaid.“Wewon’tbeherethatlong.”
MissSmithpaused.“Thewardoesn’tseemtobemovingveryquickly,”shesaid.
“Right.”MoreandmoreoftheevacuatedchildrenhadgonebacktoLondon,butnotus.Notyet.“You’llbegladtogetridofus,”Isaid.“Youdidn’twantusinthefirstplace.”
MissSmithsighed.“Ada,can’twehaveahappynight?Can’twedrinkcocoaandbehappytogether?IknowIsaidIdidn’twantevacuees,butI’veexplained,itwasn’tanythingtodowithyou.Ididn’tnotchooseyou.”
Everyoneelsedid.Iputmymugdown.“Ihatecocoa,”Isaid,andwenttobed.
ItwasMissSmith,notme,whosawtheweltonJamie’swrist.
Wewerehavingdinner.JamiereachedacrossthetableforanotherpieceofbreadandMissSmithgrabbedhisarm.“What’sthat?”sheasked.
WhenshepushedhissleevebackIsawthedeepredmarkonJamie’swrist.ItremindedmeofwhenI’dtiedhimupinourflat,onlyworse:Hisskinhadbeenrubbedawayuntilitbled.Itlookedawful.
Jamiesnatchedhisarmback.“Nothin’,”hesaid,pushinghiscuffbackdown.
“That’snotnothing,”MissSmithsaid.“Whathappened?”
Hewouldn’tsay.
“Didsomebodyhurtyou?”Iasked.“Somebodytieyouup?Someboyatschool?”
Jamielookedathisplate.Heshrugged.
“Oh,honestly,”MissSmithsaid.“Speakup!Youcan’tletpeoplebullyyou.Telluswhat’swrongsowecanhelpyou.”
Hewouldn’ttalk,notthennorlatertomeinthebed.“You’vegottotellme,”Icoaxed.“Itakecareofyou,remember?”
Hewouldn’ttell.
AtlunchthenextdayMissSmithsurprisedmebysaying,“Ada,wouldyouliketocomewithmetotakeJamietoschool?Wemightdoabitofshoppingonthewayhome.”IwasworriedenoughaboutJamiethatInodded,eventhoughIsuspectedherofplansinvolvingvelvet.
MissSmithmarchedJamieintotheschoolbuildingthewayIsupposedshealwaysdid.Istayedoutside.“We’llgogetacupoftea,”shesaid,whenshereturned,“andcomebackinhalfanhour.”
Wewenttoateashop,whichwasaplacefulloftableswhereyoucouldbuythingstoeatanddrink.Likeapub,onlywithoutbeer,andcleaner.
“Miss,”Iwhispered,takingmyseat,“whyarethereblanketsonthetables?”
“They’recalledtablecloths,”MissSmithwhisperedback.“They’retomakethetableslooknice.”
Huh,Ithought.Imaginedressinguptables.Imaginewastingclothtodressuptables.
AladycameoverandMissSmithaskedforsconesandapotoftea.Irememberedtoputmynapkinonmylapandtosaythankyoutotheladywhenshebroughtthetea,andtheladysmiledandsaid,“Whatnicemanners!She’sanevacuee?”
Ididn’tknowhowtheladycouldtell,andIdidn’tlikeitthatshecould.MissSmithsaid,“It’syouraccent,youtalkdifferentfromuscountrypeople.”
Italkeddifferentfromposhpeopleiswhatshemeant.IknewIdid,andIdidn’tlikeit,either.IwastryingthebestIcouldtosoundlikeIfitin.
Whenwefinishedourteawewentbacktotheschool.MissSmithwalkedrightintothebuildingwithoutsayinganything.Shemarcheddownthehallandthrewopenthefirstclassroomdoor.Shedidn’tknock.Icaughtuptoherjustasshesuckedinherbreath.Ilookedinsideandsawwhatshesaw.
Thewholeclass,includingJamie,wasworkingattheirdeskswithpencilsandpaper.Jamie’slefthandwastiedtohischair.
Itwastiedtighteventhoughhealreadyhadabloodyweltonhiswrist.
WhenI’dtiedhimup,atleastIhadlethimgorightaway.
MissSmithsaid,“Whatisthemeaningofthis?”inavoicethatmadesomeofthelittlegirlsjump.Jamiesawus.Hisfacefloodedred.
MissSmithwenttohimanduntiedhisarm.Jamieducked.Heduckedlikeheexpectedhertohithim,thewayIduckedsometimes.MissSmithsaid,“Jamie,I’msosorry,Ishouldhavecomesooner,”andputherarmsaroundhim.Jamieleanedagainsther.Hestartedtosob.
AllthistimeI’dstoodfrozeninthedoorway.Mostofthestudentssatfrozenattheirdesks.TheonlysoundswereJamiecryingandMissSmithmurmuringwordsIcouldn’tquiteunderstand.
Theteacherunfrozeherselfwithajerk.SheadvancedonMissSmith,eyesblazing.“I’llthankyounottointerfere!”shesaid.“Everytimemyback’sturnedhe’susingthathandofhis.Iwon’thaveit!Iwouldn’thavetotiehimifhe’dobeyme.”
MissSmithheldherground.Hereyesglittered.“Whyshouldn’theusethathand?”
Theteachergasped.Ididn’trecognizeher,thoughIsupposedshe’dbeenonourtrain.Shewasanolderwomanwithgrayhairbraidedaroundherhead,androundwireeyeglassesandaskirtthatwastootight.Whenshegasped,
hermouthwentperfectlyround,likeherglasses.Shelookedlikeafish.“It’shislefthand,”shesaid.“Everyoneknowsthat’sthemarkofthedevil.Hewantstowritewithhislefthand,nothisright.I’mtraininghimupthewayhe’ssupposedtobe.”
“Ineverheardsuchrubbish,”snappedMissSmith.“He’sleft-handed,that’sall.”
“It’sthemarkofthedevil,”insistedtheteacher.
MissSmithtookadeepbreath.“WhenIwasatOxford,”shesaid,“myprofessorofDivinity,Dr.HenryLeightonGoudge,wasleft-handed.Itisnotthemarkofthedevil.Dr.Goudgetoldmehimselfthatfearofleft-handednesswasnothingmorethansillysuperstitionandunwarrantedprejudice.There’snothingintheBibleagainstpeopleusingtheirlefthands.Wecanwriteandaskhim,ifyoulike.MeanwhileyouwillallowJamietousewhicheverhandheprefersorIshalltakeactionforthewoundshe’sreceived.”
Ihatedwhenshespokewithsuchbigwords;Icouldn’tfollowit.Jamie’steachersaid,suspiciously,“WhenwereyouatOxford?”
“Igraduated1931,”MissSmithreplied.
Theteacherlookedflustered,butshedidn’tbackdownalltheway.“You’renottocomeintomyclassroomwithoutknocking,”shesaid.“Itisn’tallowed.”
“Iwon’tagainsolongasIhavenocause,”MissSmithsaid.ShehuggedJamietoher,thenstood.“I’llbeaskingJamie.Idon’twanthimridiculed,lookeddownupon,orpunishedinanywayforusinghislefthand.”
Theteachersniffed.MissSmithstood,andguidedmetofollowherout.Iwantedtowaitinthehalltobesuretheteacherdidn’timmediatelytieJamiebackup,butMissSmithsaidweneededtoleave.“I’veknockedherprideabit,”shesaid.“Weneedtolethergetitback.”
Ididn’tseewhy.Isaid,“Icouldhavetoldthemhehatesbeingtied.”ButIdidn’treallyunderstandwhytheteachertiedhim,andIsaidso.
MissSmithsighed.“Ada,whichhanddoyoueatwith?Whenyouholdafork?”
Iheldupmyrighthand.“Thisone.”
“Why?Whynotuseboth?”
“Thisonefeelsbetter,”Isaid.
“That’sright.AndJamieeatswithhisotherhand,hislefthand.Healwaysdoes.Thathandfeelsbettertohim.”
Iguesshedid,butI’dnevernoticed.I’dnevercared.“So?”
“Sohe’slearningtowritenow,andit’smuchhardertowritewiththehandyoudon’teatwith.I’llshowyou,whenwegethome.”Sheopenedthemaindooroftheschool,andwewentout.Achillwindswirledsomedeadleavesaroundthesteps.“IntheBiblethegoodpeoplestandonGod’sright,andthebadpeoplestandontheleft,beforetheygetcastintohell.Sosome—people—”
“Idjits,”Isupplied.
“Yes.”Shesmiledatme.“Someidiotsthinkleft-handednesscomesfromthedevil.Itdoesn’t.Itcomesfromthebrain.”
“Likethatmanyouweretalkingabout,”Isaid.
“What?Oh,Dr.Goudge.Yes,he’sRegiusProfessorofDivinityatOxfordUniversity.WhereIstudied.”
“Andhe’sleft-handed,likeJamie?”
MissSmithsnorted.“I’venoidea.Ididn’treadDivinity.Inevermettheman.”
She’dlied.Ilookedathersideways.“Soyoudidn’tgotoOxford,”Isaid.Whereverthatwas,whateveritmeant.
“OfcourseIdid,”shesaid.“Istudiedmaths.”
Wewalkeddowntheroad.“Isaclubfootlikethat?”Iasked.
“Likebeingleft-handed?Inaway.It’ssomethingyou’rebornwith.”
“No,Imean,isitwhatthatteachersaid?A—amarkofthedevil.”Itwouldexplaineverything,Ithought.
“Ada,ofcoursenot!Howcouldyouthinkso?”
Ishrugged.“IthoughtmaybethatwaswhyMamhatedme.”
MissSmith’shandtouchedmyshoulder.Whenshespoke,hervoicewasuneven.“Shedoesn’t—I’msureit’snot—”Shestoppedwalkingandturnedtofaceme.“Idon’tknowwhattosay,”shesaid,afterapause.“Idon’twanttotellyoualie,andIdon’tknowthetruth.”
Itwasmaybethemosthonestthinganyonehadeversaidtome.
“Ifshedoeshateyoushe’swrongtodoso,”MissSmithsaid.
Ishookthatoff.Itdidn’tmatter,didit?
Leavesskitteredaroundthetipsofmycrutches.Mybadfootswunginthe
air.Istarteddowntheroadagain,andafteramomentMissSmithfollowed.
“WillyourideButterwhenwegethome?”sheasked.
“Ithinkso,”Isaid.“Istillcan’tmakehimtrot.”
“Persistence,”MissSmithsaid.“That’swhatLadyThortonsays.”
I’dasked.Persistencemeanttokeeptrying.
Theverynextday,beforeJamiewenttoschool,MissSmithtookustothepostofficetoregisterforouridentitycards.Itwasawarthing.Wewouldallgetcardstocarrywithus,sothatiftheGermansinvaded,thegovernmentcouldtellwhowasGermanandwhowasEnglishbyaskingtoseeouridentitycards.
TheycouldalsotellbecausetheGermanswouldbespeakingadifferentlanguage.That’swhatMissSmithsaid.Whilewestoodinline,sheexplainedthatallovertheworldpeoplespokedifferent,notjustdifferentthewayIsoundeddifferentfromMissSmithandMaggie,butdifferentlikeactualdifferentwords.Jamiewantedtoheardifferentwords,soMissSmithtoldussome.ShesaidtheywereinLatin,theonlyotherlanguagesheknew.“Butit’sadeadlanguage,”shesaid.“Nobodyspeaksitanymore.”
Clearlythiswasn’ttrue,sinceshejusthadbeenspeakingit,butIdidn’tsayso.Jamieasked,“IfwekillalltheGermans,thentheirlanguagewillbedead.Bam!”HepretendedtoshootaGerman.
MissSmithpursedherlips,butwe’dgottentothefrontoftheline,soshedidn’treprimandhim.Insteadshetoldtheregistrymanhername,herbirthday,andthatshewasn’tmarriedanddidn’thaveajob.
Thenshepushedusforward.“AdaSmithandJamesSmith,”shesaid.“They’relivingwithme.”
Theregistrymansmiled.“Nieceandnevvy,arethey?Mustbenicetohavefamilystaying.Icanseetheresemblance,sureenough.Thegirlhasyoureyes.”
“No,”MissSmithsaid.“They’reevacuees.Thesurnameisjustacoincidence.Idon’tknowtheirbirthdates,”shecontinued.“Itwasn’tontheirpaperwork,andthechildrencouldn’ttellme.”
Themanfrowned.“Agreatbiglassandladlikethat,andtheydon’tknowtheirownbirthdays?Aretheysimple?”
Istuckmyrightfootbehindmyleft,andstaredatthefloor.
“Ofcoursenot,”MissSmithsnapped.“Whatanignorantthingtosay.”
Themandidn’tseemputoffbyhertone.“Well,that’sverynice,I’msure,”hesaid,“butwhatamIsupposedtoputdownontheform?Thegovernment
wantsproperbirthdays.Thereisn’taspotfor‘don’tknow.’”
“WritedownApril5,1929,forAda,”MissSmithsaid.AfteraskingmehowmuchIcouldrememberaboutJamiebeingababy,she’ddecidedlongagoImustbeten.“ForJamieputFebruary15.”Shelookeddownatus.“Nineteenthirty-three,”shesaid.“We’reprettysurehe’ssixyearsold.”
Themanraisedaneyebrow,butdidasshetoldhim.
“What’sallthatmean?”Iasked,whenwewerebackoutonthestreet.
“Birthdaysaredaysyougetpresents,”Jamiesaidgloomily,“andcakefortea.Andatschoolyougettowearthebirthdayhat.”
IrememberedMissSmithaskingusaboutbirthdays,whenwefirstcametoher,butI’dneverheardaboutabirthdayhat.Turnsoutitwasaschoolthing.AtJamie’sschoolhisteacherpostedbirthdaysonabigcalendar,andwhenitwasyourbirthdayyouworeahatandeverybodymadeafussoveryou.
WhenJamie’dsaidhedidn’tknowhisbirthday,hisclasshadlaughedathim.Hehadn’ttoldusthat.
“Butnowwehavebirthdays,”Jamiesaidcontentedly.“Whatyoutoldtheman.I’lltellteacherthisafternoonandshe’llwriteitonhercalendar.”HesmiledatMissSmith.“Whatwasit?”
“February15,1933,”MissSmithsaid.
“It’snotyourrealbirthday,”Isaid.
“Closeenough,”MissSmithsaid.“February15wasmyfather’sbirthday.Jamiecanuseit.”
“Isyourfatherdead?”
“No,”MissSmithsaid.“Atleast,notsoI’veheard.Ithinkmybrotherswouldtellme.Itdoesn’tmatterifJamieshares.Thereareonly365daysintheyear,andtherearealotmorepeopleintheworldthanthat.Lotsofpeoplehavethesamebirthdays.”
“Butitisn’tJamie’srealbirthday,”Isaid.
“No,it’snot.”MissSmithturnedandbentoversoshewaslookingdirectlyatme.“WhenIfindoutyourrealbirthdays,I’llchangeyouridentitycards.Okay?Promise.”
“Okay.”Ididn’tmindatemporarylie.“Howdoyoufindout?”
MissSmith’snostrilsnarrowed.“Yourmotherknows.Whensheanswersmyletters,she’lltellus.”
Couldbealongtime,then.IdoubtedI’devergotoschoolandwearabirthdayhat,butstill—“Willwehavecakeforteaonmybirthday?Onthedayyoutoldtheman?”
“Yes,”MissSmithsaid.Asuddenlookofsadnesswashedoverherface,thendisappearedsoquicklythatifIhadn’tbeenlookingrightather,Ineverwouldhaveseenit.Sadness?Ithought.HowdidIknowthatwassadness?AndwhywouldMissSmithbesad?
“ThatwasBecky’sbirthday,”MissSmithsaid.“It’llbenicetohaveareasontocelebratethedayagain.”
“That’salie,”Isaid.Iwasn’tangryaboutit,butitwasone.
“Oh.”MissSmithforcedalaugh.“Itisanditisn’t.Itwillbehardforme,butI’dlikeverymuchtobehappyagain.”
StephenWhiteandhiscolonelinvitedmetotea.Theysentmeaproperinvitation,writtenout,bypost,andMissSmithhandedittomewithoutopeningit.Istaredandstaredatthemarksonthepaper,butIcouldn’tmakesenseofthem.NeithercouldJamie,nomatterhowhardhetried.“Thewriting’swiggly,”hesaid.“Notlikeinbooks.”
SoIhadtoaskMissSmith,whichmademeangry.Shereaditout—tea,Stephenandthecolonel,Saturday,October7—andallthewhileIgrewangrierandangrierthatIcouldn’treadthewordsmyself.MissSmithlookedupatmeandlaughed.“Ada,whataface!”shesaid.“It’syourownfault.I’mhappytoteachyou.”
Easyforhertolaugh.WhatifItriedandfoundoutIreallycouldn’tlearn?
“I’llwritebackananswerforyou,”MissSmithsaid.“Youwanttogo,don’tyou?”
“No,”Isaid.Ididn’twantherhavingtowriteforme.
“Whynot?You’llhavesomethingnicetoeat,I’msure,andStephen’syourfriend.Thecolonel’sanoldman,buthe’skindandhassomeinterestingstories.”
“No!”Isaid.Iadded,“Stephen’snotmyfriend.”
MissSmithsatdownandlookedatme.“Youtoldmehecarriedyoutothetrainstation,”shesaid.“Thatsoundslikesomethingafriendwoulddo.”
Maybe.
“ThewayyouhelpedMargaretThortonwhenshewashurt.YouwereafriendtoherthewayStephenwasafriendtoyou.”
IdidwanttocountMaggieasafriend.IguessedIwouldn’tmindcountingStephenasone,onlyitwashardertobefriendswithsomeonewhohelpedyouthansomeoneyou’dhelped.
“Iknowyouknowhowtobehavenicely,”MissSmithcontinued.“Youdidwhenwewentoutforteatheotherday.AndI’dwalkyoutothecolonel’shouse,andpickyouupagainwhenyouwerethrough.Youwouldn’tbethereverylong.Perhapsanhour.You’dhaveatreatandacupoftea,andtalk.Thatwouldbeall.”
Iscowled.“Whydoyouwantmetogo?”
Shesighed,aircomingouthernosesoshesoundedlikeButter.“Idon’t.Idon’tcarewhatyoudo.OnlyIthoughtyou’dliketobearoundsomeoneyourownage,forachange,andIwashappyforyouthatyou’dgottentheinvitation.”
Iswallowed.Ididn’tfeelhappy.Ifeltsomethingelse.Scared?Ididn’tknow.“Idon’twanttogo,”Isaid.“Youdon’thavetowriteanything.”
“Ihavetowriteanddeclinetheinvitation,”MissSmithsaid.“You’vegottoanswer,eitherway.”
Ihadn’tknownthat,ofcourse.Ikickedatthechairlegwithmygoodfootwhileshegotoutpaperandapen.Shewrotesomethingdown,thenshovedittowardme.“Thatsays:‘MissSmithregretsthatsheisunabletoacceptyourkindinvitationforOctoberseventh.’That’showyousaynopolitely.Andquitkickingthechair.”
Ikickedharder.Ididn’tcareifIwaspoliteornot.“Idon’tneedthecolonelstaringatmyfoot,”Isaid.
“Howcouldhe?”MissSmithasked.Shegrabbedmygoodfootandhelditstill.“Isaid,stopit.Andthecolonelwouldn’tbestaringatyouunderanycircumstances.Hecan’tseemuchofanything.He’sgoneblind.”
Ontheactualdayoftheseventhitrained,coldandhard.Icouldn’tride.MissSmithgaveJamiescissorsandamagazinewithpicturesofplanesinit,andhewashappycuttingthemoutandthenflyingthemaroundtherug.Ididn’thaveanythingtodo.“Icouldn’thavegonetothatstupidteaanyhow,”Isaid.
MissSmithlookedupfromhersewingmachine.She’dfoundsomeoldtowelsandwasturningthemintodressinggownsforJamieandme.Dressinggownswerelikecoatsyouputonoveryourpajamasinwinterwhenyouweren’tinbed.Itwasn’twintercoldyet,butitwascoldenoughthatMissSmithhadlitthecoalfireinthelivingroom.Thatandthekitchenrangekeptthehousewarm.
“We’dhaveusedmybigumbrella,”MissSmithsaid.“Youstillcouldhavegone.”
“CanIgonow?”Iasked.
MissSmithshookherhead.“Onceyou’vegivenyouransweryoucan’tchangeyourmind,”shesaid.“It’snotpolite.”
“Idon’tcareaboutpolite!”
“Maybenot,”shesaid,crisply,“butthecoloneldoes,andteapartiesare
aboutbeingpolite.”
Istompedmycrutch.ItlandedononeofJamie’spaperplanes,smashingitintotherug.Jamiehowled.Ididn’tcare.
MissSmithgotup.“What’swrongwithyou?”
“Mystomachhurts!”
“You’reangry,”shesaid.“Butyoucan’ttakeitoutonJamie.Sayyou’resorryandseeifyoucanfixthatplane.”
“I’mnotsorry,”Isaid.
MissSmithpressedhereyesshut.“Sayitanyhow,”shesaid.
“No!”
“Jamie,comehere.”MissSmithsatdownonthesofaandopenedherarms,andJamiecrawledintoherlap.Eversinceshe’dhuggedhiminhisclassroom,he’dbeencuddlinguptoher.Icouldhardlystandit.“Yoursister’shavingahardtime,”MissSmithtoldhim.“Shedidn’tmeantoripyourplane.”
Iwantedtosay,Ididtoo,onlyitwassuchalie.InevermeanttohurtJamie.Hejustsometimesgotintheway.ButlookingathimcurleduponMissSmith’slapmademewanttoscream.Nobodydidthatforme.
ExceptthatMissSmithpattedthespacebesideher.“Sitdown,”shesaid.“No,really.Sit.”
Andthensheputherarmaroundme,andpulledmehalfwayover.
Shedid.
Iwasalmostonherlap.
“You’resostiff,”shesaid.“It’sliketryingtocomfortapieceofwood.”
Itfeltveryoddtohavehertouchme.Ofcourseitmademetense.ButIdidn’tgoawayinsidemyhead.IsatonthesofawithMissSmith’sarmaroundme,andJamiebreathingsoftnearmyshoulder,andIwatchedthecoalfireflicker,andIstayedrightthere,rightthereinthatroom,andnoneofusmovedforhalfanhour.Jamiefellasleep,andMissSmithandIjustsat,neitherofussayingaword,untilitwastimetoputtheblackoutup,andmaketea.
Butterrefusedtoeverdoanythingbutwalk.
Iwasnicetohim.Itriedhardnottosmackhim,evenwhenhislazinessangeredme.Ibroughthimtreats,andIbrushedhimeveryday,andsometimeswhenIrodehimIdroppedthereinsonhisneckandjustlethimwanderaroundthepasturehoweverheliked.WhenIstoodatthecornergateandcalledhisname,hecamerighttome,everytime,andhestoodwithoutbeingtiedwhileIbrushedhimandputhisbridleon.Iknewhelikedme.Hereallydid.Buthewouldn’tgofaster,nomatterwhat.Hewouldn’trun,anduntilhewouldrun,Iknewwe’dneverbeabletojump.
IwasafraidLadyThortonhadn’tmeantitwhenshesaidIcouldaskMr.Grimesforhelp,butintheendIdecidedIhadtotakethechance.
“I’mgoingtovisitMr.Grimes,”Isaidatlunchoneday.Itwasacoldday;IwasgladtobewearingoneofMaggie’soldsweaters.
MissSmithgavemeaneye.“Howandwhy?”
“I’llrideButter,”Isaid.
MissSmithstared.
“Idoridehimquiteabit,”Isaid.“WegetonwellHe’saverynicepony.Hewouldn’tmindtakingmethere.”
“Ada,”MissSmithsaid,“Imaybenegligent,butIamnotblind.I’mwellawarehowmuchyouridethatpony.”
“Yes,miss,”Isaid.
“I’vetoldyouandtoldyoutocallmeSusan,”shesaid.“Yourrefusaltodosoisstartingtofeellikeanaffront.WhydoyouwanttovisitMr.Grimes?”
“Ijustwantto,”Isaid.“Hewasnicetome.Susan,”Iadded.
Sherolledhereyes.“And?”sheprompted.
“AndI’mhavingtroublewithButterandIdon’tknowwhatI’mdoingwrong.Ican’thardlygethimtomove.Miss—theiron-face—Imean,Maggie’smum—”
“LadyThorton,”promptedMissSmith.
“Yeah.Her.ShesaidifIhadtroubleIcouldaskMr.Grimesforhelp.”
MissSmithpickedupapieceofcarrotwithherfork.Sheputitintohermouthandchewedslowly.“IthardlysoundslikeButter,”shesaid.“WhenIrodehimhewasquitekeen,andhe’snotgottenthatmucholder.”Shepickedupanotherpieceofcarrot.“Allright,”shesaid,aftershe’dcheweditandswallowed.“Youmaygo.Doyourememberhowtogetthere?”
Inodded.Itwaseasy,justthetwoturns,plustherewasafancyfenceandirongatesatthestartofthedrive.Couldn’tmissthose.
MissSmithsaid,“Ifyou’regoingtoberidingoutontheroad,itmightbebetterifyouputasaddleonhim.Youcouldtaketherightstirrupoff,soitwouldn’tbangagainsthisside.”SheknewIwouldn’tbeabletousetherightstirrup.Itwouldhurttoomuch.
“Ishisthelittleone?”Iasked.Therewerethreesaddlesinthestorageroom,hungonracksandcoveredwithcloth.Twowerethesamesizeandonewassmaller.
“Yes,”MissSmithsaid.“I’llshowyou.”
“’Sallright,”Isaid.“Idon’tneedyou.”
Shelookedatmeforalongtime.“Ineverknowwhattodoforthetwoofyou,”shesaidatlast.“IshouldhavegonetoJamie’sschoolearlier.Iprobablyshouldsuperviseyoumore.Butyou’dhateit,wouldn’tyou?”
Ididn’tthinkthiswasthesortofquestionthatneededananswer.Igotupandscrapedmyplateintothetrash,thenfilledthesinkwithsoapywatertodothedishes.
“Willyouatleasttellmeifyou’rehavingtrouble?Ask,ifyouneedhelp?”
Ididn’tlookather.“Iwon’tneedhelp,”Isaid.
BehindmeMissSmithsighed.“Haveityourway,”shesaidatlast.
ThesaddlewasawkwardbutIgotitonhim.Istartedtoclimbon,andthewholesaddleshiftedtooneside.Igotoff,putitright,andtightenedthegirthagain—ithadgoneloose,Ididn’tknowwhy.ThesecondtimeIclimbedaboarditstayedsteady.Wewentthroughthegateandambleddowntheroad.
Theairfieldnolongershowedanytracesoftheexplosionortheburnedplane.Jamie’dsaidthreepeopledied,buthedidn’tknowthem.Inthelastweekmorehutshadgoneupattheairfield,andonebigtowerthatnooneknewwhatwasfor.Planessatparkedinrowsatthefarsideoftherunway,andoneplanekeptcomingtowardtherunway,touchingdownforamoment,andthenrisingintotheairagain.Roundandroundinloops.Butterbarely
flickedanearatit.Tohim,planeslandingandtakingoffhadbecomecommonastrees.
PartwaydowntheroadButterbalked,andwantedtoturnandgobackhome.Imadehimcontinue.Hewentstubbornafterthat,mouthingthebitandflickinghisearsatme,asthoughcursingmeinsomelowhorselanguage.Hewalkedslowerthanever,andIthoughtwithlongingofJonathan’shorse.AmonthagoI’dbeenthrilledwithButter,andnowIwantedsomethingmore.
TwomonthsagoI’dnotseentrees.
EventuallywemadeittoMaggie’shouse,andaroundtothestableyard.Mr.Grimeswasthereintheyard,rinsingabiggrayhorsewithwaterfromabucket.“Aye,”hesaidwhenhesawme.
“Aye,”Isaidback,suddenlyfeelingshy.Hehadn’tsaidIcouldvisit—onlyMaggie’smumhadsaidthat,andmaybeMr.Grimeswouldn’tlikeit.IslidoffButterandputmyrightfootbehindmyleft.
Mr.Grimeslookedmeupanddown.“Waitthere,”hesaid.Heputthehorsehewastendingintoastall.“Now,”hesaid,comingtowardme,“explainwhatyouweredoingridingthispooranimaldowntheroad.”
“Iwantedhelp,”Isaid.“Ican’tmakehimgo.”
“Ishouldthinknot.”HebenttowardButter’sforefeet.“Hasn’thadhisfeettrimmedinyears,hashe?Betnotsincethatotheronedied.ThatMissBecky.”Hestalkedoff,andcamebackwithhishandsfullofmetaltools.“Youjustholdhim,”hesaid.HecradledButter’shoofupsidedowninhishand,andthenwithasortofpincherthinghecutButter’shoofrightoff.
Iscreamed.Butterstartled.Mr.Grimesstraightened,droppingButter’sfoot.Butterstillhadquiteabitofhoofleft,Isaw.Butthecut-offpartlayonthecobbledyard,curvedandthickandhorrible-looking.Mr.Grimessaid,“DoesitlooklikeI’mhurtinghim?”
Itdidn’t.Icouldn’tbelieveit.Butterstoodperfectlycalm.
“Ponies’hoovesarelikeourfingernails,”hesaid.HepickedupanothertoolandraspedButter’sshorthoofsmooth.“Theygrowandtheyhavetobetrimmed.”
MissSmithwasabearforhavingourfingernailstrimmed.She’dtrimmedthemtheseconddaywewerewithher,andourtoenailstoo,andshekeptonustotrimthemeveryweek.Withclippers,notjustnibblingoffthebrokenbitslikeIwasusedto.Itwasstrange,butMr.Grimeswasright,itdidn’thurt.
“Hisaresoovergrownthey’rehurtinghim,”Mr.Grimescontinued,movingontoButter’sotherfrontfoot.“Probablyhurtshimtowalkatall,and
hecouldn’treallygofaster,notwithouttrippinghimself.He’sshowingsense.Thisoughttomakeabigdifference.”
Ifeltstung.I’dbeenhurtinghim,andIdidn’tknow.
“Somepeopleshouldn’townponies,”Mr.Grimessaid,asthoughechoingmythoughts.Thenhelookedatme.“Idon’tmeanyou,”hesaid.“Comin’fromLondon,andbein’yourageandall,howcouldyouknow?ButthatMissSmith,shejustthrewtheponyintothefieldonceshe’dsoldMissBecky’shunters,andshe’sneverlookedathimagainasfarasIcantell.”
“Shetoldmeponiescoulddofinejusteatinggrass.”
“Aye,that’strue,butit’snottheonlythingtheyneed.Ifsomeonegaveyouenoughtoeat,butdidn’tkeepyoucleanorhealthyorevershowyouanykindoflove,howwouldyoufeel?”
Isaid,“Iwouldn’tfeelhungry.”
Mr.Grimeslaughed.“Well,that’sso.”Whenhewasfinishedhesaid,“Youbringhimbackhereinfourweeksorso,soIcantrimhimagain.Usuallyyou’dsayeverysixweeks,butwe’llhaveabitofworktodobeforehe’sbacktonormal.Ordinarilythevillagefarrier’ddoit,butheenlistedlastweek.”
Inodded.Searchedmyheadfortherightwordstosay.Foundthem.“Thankyouverymuch,Mr.Grimes.”
Hiseyescrinkled,buthedidn’tsmile.Hepulledoffhishat,revealinganearlybaldhead,andscratchedhimselfbehindoneear.“It’sjustGrimes,”hesaid.“Mr.Grimes,thatwouldbeifIwereabutlerorsomethingimportant,like.Butifwe’regoingtobefriends,youcancallmeFred.”
“Fred.”Iheldoutmyhand,thewaythecolonelhad.Fredshookit.
“Andyou’re?”heprompted.
“Ada,”Isaid.“AdaSmith,butjustAdatoyou.”
Fredtookmeallaroundthepony.HecutButter’slongtangledmane(“normallywe’dpullit,notcutit,butthismessishopeless”)andshowedmehowtostartuntanglinghistail.Hetaughtmehowtocleanthesaddleandbridle,andhowtooilthem,overandoverwithtinydollopsofoilonarag.“Youkeepdoingthat,”hesaid.“AndanyothertackyouseeatMissSmith’s,youoilthattoo.Leatherdriesout.It’llberuinedifitgoesneglectedmuchlonger.”
Thenhetoldmehehadtogetonworking.“Toomuchtodothesedays,”hesaid.“We’vehadtoputthehuntersbacktograss.Toomuchforonemantokeep’emleggedupandproperlystrappedandall,andanyways,there’sno
huntingwiththewaron.Butevenstill,it’snearlyallIcando,caringforthirteenhorses.”
“Icanhelp,”Isaid.
“Aye,I’dbegrateful,”hesaid.We’dalreadyputButterintoanemptystallwhileIworkedonthetack.Ihelpedgrain,hay,andwaterthehorses,badfootandall,andhedidn’tsayawordaboutmylimpingorexpectmenottobeabletodothings.WhenwewerefinishedIsaddledandbridledButter.Fredgavemealegintothesaddle.
“Maggiesaidhorsescouldhaveclubfoot,”Isaid.“Shesaidyoucouldfixit.”Itriednottofeelhopeful.
“Aye,”hesaid.“Inhorsesyoufixitwithspecialshoes.It’snotlikeclubfootinpeople,though.Idon’tthink.That’swhatyou’vegot?”
Inodded.“Can’thelpyou,”hesaid.“ButI’llhelpyouotherwise,wheneveryoulike.Youcomeback.”
Iwentdownthedrive.Iturnedleftattheroad,whichIknewwascorrect,butafterthatI’mnotsurewhathappened.ItshouldhavebeeneasytofindMissSmith’shouse.InsteadIgotlost.
Seeingtheoceanwaslikeseeinggrassforthefirsttime.
I’dbeenlostforawhile,wanderingunfamiliarlanes.WhenIfirstrealizedIdidn’tknowwhereIwas,ItriedtoretracemystepsbacktoMaggie’s,butIendedupsomewhereelseentirely.ItriedlettingButtershowmetheway,buteverytimeIgavehimhishead,heputitdownandstartedtograze.Hewasnouse.Ikeptmoving,searchingforsomethingfamiliar.FinallyIsawalong,tallhillandclimbedit,thinkingperhapsIcouldrecognizeMissSmith’shouse,oratleastthevillage,fromabove.
InsteadIsaw,stretchedoutinthedistance,anendlesscarpetofblueandgray.Cloudsfloatedoverit,andsmallwhitethingsseemedtoflickeronthesurfaceofit,butmostlyitwaslikegrass,flatandbroadandunchanging,exceptthatitwentonforever,fartheroutthanIcouldsee.Itmademefeellostandshivery,lookingatit.Istaredandstared.Whatcoulditbe?
EventuallyIpulledmygazedownfromit,andtherewasthevillage—Irecognizedthechurchspire.Soclosetothatgray-blueexpanse.HowhadInotknown?Imademywaydownthehill,scrabblingthroughroughtallgrass,butkeepingButter’sheadinthedirectionofthesteeple.Thenwefoundaroad,andkeptgoing.PrettysoonIwasridingrightalongthemiddleofthemainstreet.Thevillagewasquiet,theshopsallshutup.Theskywasgettingdark,andofcoursenotalightshowedanywhere.Abovemecametheroarofanairplane.
AthomeMissSmithandJamierushedoutthedoorwhentheysawButterandmewalkingupthelane.
“Ididn’tmeanto,”Isaid.“Igotlost.”
MissSmithsaid,“Ithoughtyou’dfallenoffthatponyandwerelyingdeadinaditchsomewhere.”
Jamie’sfacewentwhite.
“Iwouldn’thavedied,”Isaid.IwentaroundtothebacktotakecareofButter.Jamiehelpedme.
“Howwasschool?”Iasked.
Heshrugged.
“Teacherletyouuseyourlefthand?”
“OnlybecauseSusanmadeher.ShestillthinksI’vegotthemarkofthedevil.”Heheldmyhandaswewalkedbacktothehouse.“Whenyouweren’thereSusandidn’tsayyouweredeadinaditch.ShesaidyouwereprobablyhavinganicetimeandIshouldn’tworry.”Hepaused.“Shewasworried,though.Icouldtell.”
Isnorted.“Shedoesn’tneedtoworry.Noryou.”
Dinnerwaswaiting.Ifelltoeating,sohungrythatforafewminutesIdidn’tthinkofanythingelse.ThenIsaid,“Isawsomethingstrangefromthetopofthehill.Faraway.Likegrass,stretchedoutalongway,andflat,butdifferent—blueandgray.Whenthesunhitit,itlookedshiny.”
“That’stheocean,”MissSmithsaid.“TheEnglishChannel.Itoldyoubeforeweweren’tfarfromit.”
Istaredather.Iwantedtosayshehadn’ttoldmeanything.Iwantedtosayshe’dcrippledmypony,ignoringhim.Iwantedtosaysheshouldhaveshowedustheocean,sheshouldhavetakenusthere.
Iwantedtosaysheneverneededtoworryabouteitherofus.Shedidn’tneedtobother.IcouldtakecareofJamie,andIcouldtakecareofmyself.Ialwayshad.
Iwantedtosayalotofthings,but,asusual,Ididn’thavethewordsforthethoughtsinsidemyhead.Idroppedmyheadandwentbacktoeating.
“DidGrimeshelpyou?”MissSmithasked.
“Yes,”Isaid,rudely,throughamouthfuloffood.
“Whywouldn’tButtertrot?”
Iswallowed.Itookadeepbreath.Isaid,“Becauseyoucrippledhim.”
MissSmithlookedup,sharp.“Explain.”
Ididn’twanttotalk,buteventuallyshegotthewholestoryoutofme.Shesighed.“Well,Iamsorry.Itwasignorance,notdeliberateabuse—butthat’sneveranexcuse,isit?”Shereachedouttopatmyarm,butIjerkedaway.“Iunderstandwhyyou’reangrywithme,”shesaid.“I’dbeangrytoo.”
Afterdinnershemarchedmeouttothepasture.ShemademeshowherwhatButter’sfeetlookedlikenow,andtellherhowtheyhadbeen.ShemademetellherwhatelseGrimeshadtaughtme,andthenshewentintothestorageroomandlookedatallthetack.“It’sawfulhavingtofaceyourownshortcomings,”shesaid.“DidButterfeelbetterafterhehadhisfeetfixed?”
“They’renotfixed,”Isaid.“Theywon’tbefixedforweeksandweeks.AndIdon’tknowhowhefelt.Igotlost.”
Shenodded.“Youmusthavebeenscared.Scaredandangry.”
“Ofcoursenot,”Isaid,thoughIhadbeen,atleastuntilI’dseenthesea.“OfcourseIwasn’tscared.”
“Angry,”Susansaid,puttingherarmaroundme.
“No,”Isaidthroughclenchedteeth.ButIwas.Oh,Iwas.
TheRoyalOaksank.
ShewasaRoyalNavybattleship.ShewastorpedoedbyaGermansubmarinewhileanchoredoffthecoastofScotland,and833oftheovertwelvehundredmenonherdied.Weheardaboutitontheradio,whichwelistenedtomostnights.
ThenextSaturdaySusandecidedtotakeustothemovies.ItwasthefirsttimeJamieandIhadeverbeen.Wesatdownontheplushseats,likeourpurplechairsathome,andbeforeweknewitthewholewallinfrontofushadbecomeagiantmovingpicture.Musicplayed,andaman’svoicestartedtotalkaboutthewar.
I’dthoughtweweregoingtowatchastory,notstuffaboutthewar.Otherthanthesillypostersandthesandbagsthatlaypilednearsomeoftheroadintersections,you’dhardlyknowtherewasawar.Hadn’tbeenanybombs.Butnowherewasapictureofanenormousship,rollingontoitssidewhileblacksmokepouredoutofholesinitshull.Thepicturewassobigandsohorrible,anditgotworsewhenthesolemnvoicetalkingabouttheRoyalOaksaidthatoverahundredofthedeadwereyoungboys.IlookedatJamiesittingonSusan’sotherside.“Iwanttogohome,”Iwhispered.
“Shh,”Susansaid.“Thenewsreelwillbeoverinaminute.Thenthey’llshowthestory.”
“Iwanttogohome,”Isaid,moreloudly.
“Don’tstart,”Susansaid.
“Don’tstart,”Jamieechoed.
Ididn’t.ButIpluggedmyearsandIshutmyeyes,andIstayedthatwayuntilSusannudgedmetoletmeknowthestorypicturewasstarting.EventhenIcouldn’tquitthinkingabouttheburningshipandtheboysthatdied.
Ihadnightmaresfromthepictures.Jamiewetthebed,buthealwaysdid,everynightstill.Ihaddreamsoffireandsmokeandbeingtiedtomychair,mylittlechairinourflatathome.Icouldn’twalkandIcouldn’tmove,andIscreamed.JamiewokeandcriedandSusancameatarun.
“So,thatwasalittletoooverwhelming?”Susansaidthenextmorning.She
lookedtiredandcross,butsheusuallylookedcrossinthemornings.
Iavoidedhergaze.Ididn’tknowwhatshemeantbyoverwhelming.
“Alittletoomuch?”Susansaid.
Ofcourseitwastoomuch.Itwas833mentoomuch.
Susansighed.“Nexttimewegotothemovieswe’llwaitinthelobbyuntilthenewsreel’sover.Iassumethattheradio’sstillokay?”
Inodded.Theradiodidn’tcomewithpictures.
JamietoldSusanhisteacherstillthoughthehadthedevilinhim,andbecauseofthatwehadtostartgoingtochurchonSundays.
“Ofcourseyouhaven’tgotthedevilinyou,”shesaid,“butifyougoit’llgivethegossipsonelessthingtotalkabout.Besides,I’vebeenfeelingguiltyaboutneglectingyourreligiouseducation.”
Shemadeusgo,butshedidn’t.Shewentthefirsttimeonly,toshowushowyouhadtositinthepew,andstayquiet,unlesstherewassingingorwordstosay,inwhichcasewestillsatquietbecausewedidn’tknowthesongsorthewords.Amanupfrontreadstoriesandthentalkedalongtime,andJamiegotintroubleforkickingthepew.Thatwaswhatthebencheswerecalled.Pews.Jamiethoughtitwasafunnyword.Thewholenextweekheheldhisnoseandsaid“Pew!”everytimehesatdown.
AfterthefirstSundaySusanwalkedustothechurch,thentookawalkthroughthevillageandpickedusuponherwayback.Shesaidchurchesandherdidn’tagree.
“Yousaidyourfatherworkedinthechurch,”Isaid,scowling,onourwayhomethesecondSunday.TheladybesideJamieandmehadspentthewholesitting-downpartoftheservicestaringatus,andIhadn’tlikeditatall.
MissSmithlookedtight-lipped.“Yes.Myfatherhasmadeitclearhedoesn’tthinkIcanberedeemed.”
Jamiesaid,“What’sthatmean?Redeemed?”
“Inmycasebeingredeemedmeanschangingmyevilwaysandregainingmyheavenlycrown.Itmeansmyparentsdon’tlikeme.Andyes,myfather’sstillalive.Mymotherdied.”
“Oh.”Jamiethrewarock,andhitafenceposthalfablockaway.“Ourmamdoesn’tlikeuseither.’SpeciallyAda.ShehatesAda.Ada’snotredeemed.”
Iflinched.“MaybeIamnow.MaybenowIcanwalk.”
“Notwithoutcrutches,”Jamiesaid.“You’vestillgotthatuglyfoot.”
“Jamie!”Susansaid.“Youapologize!”
Jamiesaid,“Butshedoes!”
“Herfootisn’tugly,”MissSmithsaid.“Whatahorridthingtosay!AndAda,you’vedonenothingwrong.Yourfootisnotyourfault.Youdon’tneedtoberedeemed.”
Iwatchedthetipsofmycrutchesaswewentdowntheroad.Crutches,goodfoot,crutches,goodfoot.Uglyfootskimmingalongintheair.Alwaysthere,nomatterwhatanyonesaid.
Buttergalloped.Hetrottedfirst,andthatwassobouncyIhadtoholdontohismanesoIdidn’tfalloff.ButIkeptkickinghim,andhetrottedfasterandfaster,untilsuddenlyeverythingevenedout,andhewascantering.IfIkeptkickinghimfromthere,hewentfasterstill,untilmyeyeswateredandthewindmadenoiseinmyears.Thatwasgalloping.Itwasthebest.
ItriedtojumpthestonewallofButter’spasture.Igallopedhimthelengthofthefield,hardasIcould,andsteeredhimrighttowardthewall.Hegotclose,closer,thenslammedhisfeetintotheground.Hestoppeddead.Ikeptgoing,straightoverhisears.Imissedhittingthebaseofthewall,butnotbymuch.
Susancamerunningintothefield.Ihadn’tknownshewaswatchingme.“Stopthat,youidiot,”shesaid.
Ilookedather.Butterwassnortingandtossinghishead,andIfiguredI’dbetterhaveanothergoatthewallquickly,beforeIlostmynerve.
“Youdon’thavethefirstcluewhatyou’redoing,”Susancontinued.“YougetonovertoFredGrimesandgethimtoteachyousomethingbeforeyougetyourselfkilled.Puttingthatpoorponyatathree-footwall,whenhe’shardlyeverjumpedinhislife!”
“Hehasn’t?”Iasked.Ifiguredallhorsesknewhowtojumpwalls.Jonathan’shorsehadn’thadanytroublewithit.
“Hehasn’t,”shesaid.SherubbedtheendofButter’snose.“You’llhurthimifyouaren’tcareful.You’llscarehim,andthat’llputhimoffjumpingforever.Nottomentionwhatitmightdotoyou.”
Sheshouldtalkabouthurtingthepony.Ignoringhimuntilhewaspracticallycrippled.He’dbeenbetterassoonashishoovesweretrimmed.Bettertheverynextday.
“Yes,Iknowwhatyou’rethinking,”shecontinued.“ButIknowwhatheneedsnowandIwon’thurthimagain.Youknowwhatyouneednowtoo,becauseI’mtellingyou.YougetonovertoFredGrimes.”
SoIwentonovertoseeFredinthestablesbehindMaggie’shouse.Heagreedtowatchmeride,andhelpme,forabitoftimeafterhislunchtwodaysaweek.InexchangeI’dworkforhimtherestoftheafternoon.Susangavemeamapshe’ddrawn,andshowedmehowtotracemyrouteonit,soI
wouldn’tbelostagain.ItiedmycrutchestothebackofthesaddlesoIhadthemfordoingchores.
Fredtaughtmetokickless.Hetaughtmetouseonelegonlytoaskforacanter,sothatIdidn’thavetogetbouncedbythetrot.Hetriedtoteachmetoposttothetrot—toriseandfalltothemotionsmoothly,withoutbouncing—butthatwashardwithonlyonestirrup.Hetaughtmemoreaboutsteering,andwhenhewashappywithmyprogresshesetuplittlepolesinthefieldbeyondthestableyardandhadmepracticegoingoverthem.Itwasalongwayfromjumpingthestonewall.FredsaidIwasn’ttotrythatonButteruntilhetoldmeIwasready.
StephenWhite’scolonelsentanotherinvitationtotea.Ideclined.“Idiotgirl,”Susangrumbled.
Meanwhilethewarhadbecomeanendlessstreamofpamphletsthegovernmentsentthroughthemail.Howtowearyourgasmask.Whytocarryyourgasmask.Hownottogethitbyacarintheblackout.(Youcouldcarryaflashlight,ifyoucoveredovertheglasswithtissuepaper;youshouldpaintcurbswhitesothepeopledrivingthecarscouldseethem.)Whyyoushouldgivethegovernmentyourexcesspotsandpans.(Theywantedtomakeplanesfromthem.Susanrefusedtodoit.Shesaidshehadexactlyasmanypansassheneeded.ThismadeJamiesoupsetthateventuallysherelented,andgavehimanoldnastychippantoturnin.)
Thereweren’tanybombs.WhattherewerewasGermansubmarines,circlingallofEngland,tryingtoblowupanyshipsheadinginoroutofherharbors.
Thiswasabigproblem,Susansaid,becauseEnglanddidn’tgrowenoughfood.MostofthefoodEnglishpeopleatewasshippedinfromothercountries.Alreadytherewaslessfoodintheshops,andwhatwastherecostmore,thoughSusansaidsomeofthatwasbecausethesummerwasover.Wewouldn’tseeasmanyfreshfruitsandvegetablesuntilnextspring.
YouneversawanyonemoreinterestedinfruitsandvegetablesthanSusan.Wewereallthetimehavingtoeatstrangethings.Brusselssprouts.Turnips.Leeks.Peaches,whichIloved,butalsoprunes,whichIdidn’t.Prunescameincansandwereslimygoingdown.
Everyweekthatwentbywithoutbombs,moreevacueesreturnedtoLondon.EventheoneslivingwithLadyThortonhadgone.InthevillageLadyThortonfussedaboutit,butshecouldn’tstopparentsfromsendingfortheirchildren.“Londonwillbebombed,”sheinsisted.
Mamneverwrote,soSusanwasstillstuckwithus.WhenIsaidsoshegavemeanoddlook.“Yourmother’ssmarttokeepyouhere,whereit’ssafer,”shesaid.“ButIwishshe’danswermyletters.Ifindhersilencehardtounderstand.”
BythestartofNovembersomanychildrenhadreturnedtoLondonthatJamie’steacherlefttoo.Hisclasswascombinedwiththeotherprimaryclass.Hisnewteacherdidn’tthinkhehadthedevilinhim.Shesaidso.Shedidn’tcareatallifhewrotewithhislefthand.
Hestillwetthebed.
Ithoughtitwasmostlyhabitbynow.Susanhadarubbersheettoprotectthemattress,butshewastiredofcleaningtheregularsheets.Iwastiredofwakinguptothedampnessandthesmell.NeitherofussaidsotoJamie.Hewasashamed,Iknew.
LadyThortonwantedSusantojointheWomen’sVolunteerService,theWVS.ShecametoteaandtoldSusansheneededherhelp.
“Nooneneedsmyhelp,”Susansaid.“Besides,I’mbusytakingcareofthesechildren.”
LadyThortoncuthereyesatme.Jamiewasatschool,butI’dcomeinfromthepasturetohavetea.Itwasn’toneofmydaysforhelpingFred.“Thisonedoesn’tseemtoneedmuchcare,”LadyThortonsaid.
“You’dbesurprised,”Susansaid.
Ifeltcross.Ididn’tneedher.Plus,shestillspentpartofeachdaylyingaround,staringatnothing.Isaid,“It’snotlikeyouhaveaproperjob.”
Susanglaredatme.LadyThortonlaughedoutloud.ThenLadyThortonsaid,gesturingtothesewingmachinestillsetupinthecorneroftheroom,“Wecoulduseyoutosewbedjacketsforsoldiers.Allsortsofsewing,actually.”
Susanshookherhead.“Youalldon’tlikeme,”shesaid.“Thewomeninthisvillageneverlikedme.”
LadyThortonpressedherlipstogether.Shesetherteacupdown.“That’snottrue,”shesaid.
Susanlookedcross.“Don’tbepatronizing,”shesaid.“Beckygotalongwithyoursetbecauseofthehorses,butthat’sall.”
“Younevergaveanyoneachance,”LadyThortonsaid.“Mostofthevillagecametothefuneral.”
“Oh,thefuneral!Bunchofnosybusybodies!”
“Ithinkyoushouldmakeaneffort,”LadyThortonsaid.“Youmightbesurprised.And—it’sgoodtobeseenhelpingthewareffort,don’tyouagree?Thisisn’tthetimetobeisolationist.”
Ihadbeenlisteningclosely.Iasked,“What’sthatmean?”
LadyThortonsaid,“Anisolationistissomeonewhodoesn’tsupportthewar.Someonewhowantsustostandapart;someonewhodoesn’tcareaboutthings.”
Isaid,“Butshedoesn’tcareaboutthings.”
SusanlookedlikeI’dslappedher.“Howcanyousaythat?OfcourseIdo!”
Ishrugged.
“Isfeedingyouthreemealsadaynotcaringforyou?”shedemanded.“No,don’tyoulookaway.Youlookatme,Ada.WhenIconfrontedJamie’steacher—wasn’tthatcaringforhim?”
Whoknewshe’dgetsowoundup?Itriedtolookaway,butsheputherhandundermychinandturnedmyfacebacktowardher.“Wasn’tit?”sheinsisted.
Ididn’twanttoanswer,butIknewshewouldn’tletgoofmeuntilIdid.“Maybe,”Isaidatlast.
ShereleasedmeandturnedbacktoLadyThorton,whowaslookingamused.“I’lljoin,”shesaid.
AssoonasLadyThortonleft,Susantoldmeoff.“WhatdidyoumeanbycomplainingthatIhaven’tgotaproperjob?Whatsortofjobdoyouexpectmetohave?”
Ishrugged.Itsurprisedme,howshecouldgoonbuyingfoodwithoutworking,eventhoughshedidgetpaidfortakingus.“Mamworksinthepub,”Isaid.
“Well,I’mnotdoingthat,”shesaid.“Ididtrytogetajob,whenIfirstmovedherewithBecky.Noonewouldhaveme.Oxforddegreeornot.AnypositionIwasqualifiedforwasreservedformen.Can’thaveawomanstealingaman’sjob,now,canwe?”
Ididn’tunderstandwhywewerehavingthisconversation.
“Oh!”shecontinued.“Me,intheWVS!Allthosewretcheddo-gooders!Whatnonsense.”
“Whydosoldiersneedbedjackets?”Iasked.Iwasn’tsurewhatabedjacketwas.
“Whoknows,”Susansaid.“They’reforhurtsoldiers,I’dsay.Onesthathavetogotohospital.”
Ihadn’theardofanyhurtsoldiers.“Theonesthatgetblownupintheoceanfallintothewateranddie,”Isaid.
“Isupposeso,”Susansaid,shuddering.“Buttherearedifferentkindsofbattles.Somehurtsoldierssurvive.”
AfewdayslaterSusangotherWVSuniform.Sheputitontogotoherfirstmeeting.Shelookedniceinit.Sheworestockings,andleathershoeswithheels.“Quitstaring,”shesaidasshepulledonhergloves.“Youcouldcomewithme.Ajuniormember.Orperhapsatokenevacuee.”
Ishookmyhead.WhileshewasgoneIthoughtImighttryoutthesewingmachine.Orcooksomething.Theweatherwaswretched;Ididn’twanttoride.“Whyareyouscared?”Iaskedher.
Shemadeaface.“Allthoseproperhousewives!Idon’tfitin.Ineverhave.”
“You’vegottheuniform,”Isaid.
Shemadeanotherface.“True.Butit’snottheoutsidethatcounts,notwiththatgroup.Oh,well.”Shewentawaytohermeeting.
Istayedhomeandbrokehersewingmachine.
Ididn’tmeanto.I’dwatchedSusanusingit,anditlookedeasy,andallIwastryingtodowassewtwoscrapsoffabrictogether,forastart.Butthescrapssuckedintothebottompartofthemachine,andtheneedleranupanddownthroughitanyway.Abunchofthreadcameoutofnowhere,snarlingitselfintoaknot,andthenthemachinemadeanawfulnoiseandthentheneedlesnappedintwo.
Itookmyfootoffthepedal.Istaredatthetangleofthreadandcloth,atthebrokenstumpoftheneedle.Iwasgoingtogetinawfultrouble.Susanhadbeensewingeverydaysinceshefinishedourdressinggowns.She’dmadeherselfadressandmadenewshortsforJamie.Shelovedthesewingmachine.
Icouldn’tthinkwhattodo.Mystomachroiled.Ifledupstairsandhidinthespareroom,theroomstillfullofBecky’sthings.Islidunderthebed,deepintothecorner.Mymindwentnumb.Istartedtoshake.
MuchlaterIheardSusancomeinthefrontdoor.Heardhercallingmyname,heardJamieclimbingthestairs.Heopenedthedoortoourbedroomandshouted,“She’snotuphere!”
“Shehastobe.”ThatwasSusan’svoice.“Hercrutchesarerightbythestairs.”
Theycalledmyname,overandover.Jamieranoutside.Ranbackin.Itgrewdarker.FinallySusan’sfacepokedundertheedgeofthebed.“Youidiotgirl!Whyareyouhiding?”
Icringedagainstthefarwall.Susangrabbedmyarmanddraggedmeout.“What’swrong?Whofrightenedyou?”
Ithrewmyhandsovermyhead.“I’mnotgoingtohityou!”Susanshouted.“Stopthat!”
Jamiecameintotheroom.“WasittheGermans?”heasked.
“Ofcourseitwasn’ttheGermans,”Susansaid.“Ada.Ada!”Shehadanirongriponmywrists,pullingmyarmsdown.“Whathappened?”
“You’llsendmeback,”Isaid.“You’llsendmeback.”Allthattimeunderthebedmypanichadgrownworseandworse.I’dloseButter.Freedom.Jamie.
“Iwon’tsendyouback,”Susansaid.“Butyou’lltellmethisinstantwhat’s
wrong.”Sheputafingerundermychin.“Lookatme.Now,tellme.”
Ilookedather,butonlyforasecond.Isquirmedawayfromhergrasp.FinallyIgasped,“Ibrokeyoursewingmachine.”
Susansighed.“Lookatme,”shesaid.Shetippedmychinupagain.“Youtriedtousemysewingmachine?”
Inodded.Squirmedaway.Lookedattheground.
Shetippedmychinup.“Andyoubrokeit?”
Inodded.Lookingherintheeyewasnearlyimpossible.“It’sokay,”shesaid.“Nomatterwhat,it’sokay.”
Icouldn’tbelieveher.Itwasn’tgoingtobeokay.
“Youdiddosomethingwrong,”shesaid.“Youshouldhaveaskedmefirst.Butyoudon’tneedtobesoafraid.I’mnotgoingtohurtyoubecauseyoumadeamistake.Let’sgoseehowbadlyit’sbroken.”
Shemademegodownthestairstothelivingroom.Thefirewaslitandtheroomwasgrowingwarm.ItturnedoutthatI’donlybrokentheneedle,nottheentiremachine.Needlesworeoutsometimes,Susansaid,andyouhadtoreplacethemanyhow.Shehadanextraneedle,soshetookthebrokenoneoutandreplacedit.Thensheremovedthesnarledmessofclothandthread.“Itreallyisallright,”shesaid.“Doyouwanttoseewhatyoudidwrong?”
Ishookmyhead.Mystomachhurtsobad.Susanpulledmeoveranyhow,andshowedmehowthemachineworked,andhowI’dneededtolevertheneedleintoplacebeforeIstartedthemachinerunning.“Tomorrowyoucanpractice,”Susansaid.
“Nothankyou,”Isaid.
Shepulledmeclosetoher,inasortofone-armedembrace.“Whydidyouhide?Whywereyouunderthebed?”
Jamiehadbeenhoveringtheentiretime.“Mamputsherinthecabinet,”hesaid,“whenevershe’sreallybad.”
“Butwhyputyourselfthere,Ada?Youdidn’thaveto.”
SoIcanstay.SoIcanstaysoIcanstaysoIcanstay.
“I’mnotgoingtoshutyouupanywhere,nomatterwhat,okay?”
“Okay.”Mystomachfeltawful.Myvoicesoundedverysmall.IcouldbarelymakemymindstayintheroomwithSusanandJamie.Isaid,“IknowIhavetoleave.Please,canJamiecometoo?”
“Ada!”
Ohno.Ohnoohnoohnoohno.WithoutJamieIwoulddie.
“I’mnotgoingtosendyouaway.WhywouldIsendyouaway?Youmadeamistake.Alittle,smallmistake.”NowbothSusan’sarmswerearoundme.Itriedtosquirmfree.Sheheldmetighter.“DidyoureallythinkI’dsendyouaway?”
Inodded.
“Letmetellyousomething.WhenIwascomingbackfrommymeeting,Iwasthinking,‘MaybeAdawillhavemadesometea.’Iwasimagininghowyou’dhavethelightsoninside,andtheblackoutup,andIwasthinkinghowlovelyitwastohavesomeonetocomehometoagain.Iusedtodreadgoingbacktoanemptyhouse.”
“I’msorryIdidn’tmaketea,”Isaid.
“That’snotwhatI’mtryingtotellyou,”shesaid.“I’mtryingtosaythatI’mgladyou’rehere.”
Icouldn’tcomedownfrommypanic.IttookmemostofthenightbeforeIcouldreallybreathe.Susanmadetea,andwhenIcouldn’tswallowany,shedidn’tinsist.“IhalfwonderifIoughttogiveyouaslugofbrandy,”shesaid.“You’llneversleepinthestateyou’rein.”Shemademetakeahotbathandshetuckedtheblanketstightaroundme.Shewasright:Ilayawakehalfthenight.ButeventuallyIslept,andwhenIwokeup,JamieandIwerestillthere.IcouldseeButteroutthebackwindow.SusanwasfryingsausagesforbreakfastandIcouldbreatheagain.
NotlongafterthatJamiecamehomefromschoolcarryingtheugliestcatSusanandIhadeverseen.Itsfilthy,mattedhairmighthavebeenanycoloratallbeneaththedirt.Oneeyewasswollenshut.ItglaredatSusanandmeoutofitsother.
“I’mkeepinghim,”Jamieannounced,dumpingthecatintothemiddleofthekitchen.Itswisheditstailandhissedatus.“Hisname’sBovril.He’shungry.”
BovrilwasahotdrinkSusanmadeforusmostnights.Itwasnasty,butI’dgottenusedtoit.Ithadnothingwhatsoevertodowithcats.
“You’renotkeepingit,”Susansaid.“Pickitupatonceandputitout.It’scrawlingwithfleas.”
“Iamkeepingit,”Jamiesaid.Hepickedthecatup—thecatwentlimpin
hisarms.“It’smyonager.Myownonager.Hisname’sBovril.”Hebegantogoupthestairs.
AnonagerwasananimalfromtheSwissFamilyRobinsonbook.Susansaidonagerswerelikedonkeys.Youcouldridethem.Theywerenothinglikecats.
“Don’tyoudaretakethatanimalintoyourbedroom,”Susanyelledafterhim.
“I’mnot,”Jamiesaid,“I’mgivinghimabath.”
“GoodLord,”Susansaid,tome.“We’llhavetocallanambulance.It’llscratchhimtodeath.”
Itdidn’t.Jamiebathedthemangycatanddrowneditsfleas.HebroughtitbackdownstairswrappedinoneofSusan’sbesttowels.Hefeditpartofhismeatfromdinner.
“It’llhuntforitselfafterthis,”Susansaid.“I’mnotcookingforacat.”
“He’sagoodhunter,”Jamiesaid,rubbingthecat’shead.“Aren’tyou,Bovril?”
Everynightafterthat,JamiefellasleepwithBovrilcurledinhisarms.Heneverwetthebedagain.BytheendofthesecondweekSusanwasofferingBovrilsaucersofwateredmilk.“It’sworthit,”shetoldme.“Savesmewashingallthosesheets.”
Susantrickedmeintowriting.
Jamiewaspracticinghislettersatthetableintheeveningafterthedisheswerewashed.Isatdownatmyplaceandwatchedhim.“ShowAdawhyyou’releft-handed,”Susansuggested.
Jamiegrinned.Hemovedhispencilfromhislefthandtohisright.Immediatelythepencilstartedtoskitteracrossthepage.Hisletterswentfromsmallandneattolargeandshaky.
“You’refooling,”Isaid,laughingathisgrin.
“I’mnot,”hesaid.“Ican’tdoitinthishand.”
“Youtry,”Susansuggested.“Tryyourlefthandfirst.”Shetookafreshpieceofpaperandwroteafewlettersonit.“Copythat.”
Itried,butitwasimpossible.EvenwhenIusedmyrighthandtoholdthepagesteady,mylefthandcouldn’tcontrolthepencilatall.
“You’redefinitelyright-handed,”Susansaid.“Movethepencilover,andyou’llsee.”
Withmyrighthand,itwaseasy.IcopiedSusan’slettersandtheylookedalmostasgoodasherown.
“Welldone,”Susansaid.“You’vejustwrittenyourname.”
“That’smyname?”
Jamielookedovermyshoulder.“Ada,”hesaid,nodding.
Susantookthepencilback.“AndthisisJamie,”shesaid.“Andhere’sSusan.”ThenshegaveJamiethepencil.“Keeponwithyourwork,”shesaid.“Ada,wouldyouputonsomemorecoal?”
Iputthecoalon,butfirst,whenSusanwasn’tlooking,Islidthepaperintomypocket.I’dborrowapencilthenexttimeshewasout.I’dtryitagain.
OneafternoonneartheendofNovemberwhenIrodeovertohelpFred,hemetmeintheyardwithawidegrin.“ComelookwhatI’vefound,”hesaid.Idismounted,tiedButter’shead,unslungmycrutches,andfollowedhimtothedoorofthetackroom.Heshowedmeastrange-lookingsaddleonastand.Ithadanormalseat,andonenormalstirrup,butitalsohadtwooddcrooked
knobsstickingupfromthepommel.“It’saside-saddle,”Fredsaid.“Mustbetwenty,thirtyyearsold.Maybemore.”
“So?”
“Here,I’llshowyou.”Fredscoopedthesaddleup.HeexchangeditforButter’s,thentossedmeintoit.Myleftlegwentintothestirrup,snugbeneathoneofthecrooks.Myrightleghungdownonthestirrup-lessside.“Nowyouswingyourrightlegover,righthere,”hesaid.Heshowedmehowtotuckmyrightthigharoundtheothercrook,sothatmyrightlegactuallydrapedoverthepony’sleftshoulder.“That’sit,”Fredsaid.“Nowshoveyourrighthipback,andgetsquareinthesaddle.”
Itfeltveryodd,butalsosnugandsecure.AsButterhadbecomemoreforward,mybadfoothadbecomemoreofaproblem.ThatIcouldn’tusetherightstirrupwasnoissue,exceptthatittendedtomakemelean.ButIcouldn’tusemyrightfootproperly—Icouldthumphimwithit,butIcouldn’tkeepanysortofpropercontactwithhisside.Myankle,suchasitwas,didn’tmovethatway.
“Now,”Fredsaid,handingmeaheavyleather–wrappedstick,“here’syourrightleg.”
“Myleg?”
“Absolutely.Youhaven’tgotoneofyourownlegsontherightside,see?Soyouholdoneendofthatstickandkeeptheotherendonthepony.You’llsignalhimwithit,justlikeyouwouldwitharegularleg.”
FredledusouttothefieldwhereIusuallyrode.“Takeabitoftimetogetusedtoit,bothforhimandforyou.”Hewasstillgrinningeartoear.“’Ow’sitfeelsofar?”
“Prettygood,”Isaid.MyseatcouldstillmovewithButter’swalk,butmylegsfeltfirm.“Ididn’tknowtheymadesaddlesforcripples.”IwonderedwhereFredhadfoundit,whosesaddleithadbeen.
“Nah,notforcripples,”Fredsaid.“Thisishowallproperladiesusedtoride.Backwhen,straddlingahorsewasn’tthoughttobeladylike.Butafterthewar,thingschanged—thegentrywomenstartedridingastride,andafterthatprettymuchsodideveryone.”
“Whichwar?”Becausetheonewewereinwasn’tover.
“Lastone.Twentyyearsback.”Fred’sfaceclouded.“Englandlostthreemillionmen.”
“Sotheyhadlotsofextrawomen,”Isaid.“Andlotsofmen’ssaddlesforthemtouse.”
“Supposeso.”Hemademegoaroundthefield,firstatthewalk,thenatthetrot.Trottingwasgobseasierinthesidesaddle—Istillbounced,butIcouldn’treallygetshakenloose.
“That’senoughfornow,”Fredsaid.“Youcanpracticerunnin’onyourown.Nojumpingyet.”
Neveranyjumpingyet.
WhenI’dfinishedmyworkIwenthomebywayofthetallhillabovethevillage.Susanhaddrawnitonmymapforme.AtthetopofthehillIstopped,andwatchedtheoceanforalongtime.SomedaysIsawships,faroffinthedistance,andonceortwiceafishingboatcloserin.Todaytherewasnothingbutglimmeringsunlight,birdscircling,tinywhitewavescrashingagainsttheshore.Susansaidtherewassandatthewater’sedge,andwhentherewasn’tawaritwasalovelyplacetowalkandlookattheocean.Justnowthebeachwasfencedwithbarbedwire,andplantedwithmines,whichwerebombsintheground,incaseofinvasion.We’dwalkonthebeachwhenthewarwasover,Susansaid.
Susandidn’tthinkIshouldacceptthesidesaddle.Shethoughtitwastoovaluableofagift.ShemarcheditandmeovertoLadyThortonintheWVSoffice.“Thatoldthing?”LadyThortonsaid.“Itmusthavebeenmyaunt’s.Motherneverrode.OfcourseAdamayhaveit,orGrimeswouldn’thavegivenittoher.Margaretdoesn’twantit,andneitherdoI.”
Maggiesentmealetterfromherschool.Susanlaidtheenvelopeonthetableoneafternoon,andItracedthewordIrecognizedonthefrontwithmyfinger:Ada.IstillhadthepaperwhereSusanhadwrittenmyname,andI’dcopieditoverandover.
“ShallIreadittoyou?”Susanasked.
“No,”Isaid.Iopenedtheletterandstaredatthemarksonthepaperinside.NomatterhowhardIstared,theydidn’tmakesense.ThatnightItriedtogetJamietoreadit.“Herhandwriting’sallcurly,”hesaid.“Ican’treadthat.”
Still,Ididn’twantSusantohelpme.IntheendIbroughtittoFred.HechewedhispipeandsaidMaggiewantedustoridetogetherwhenshecamehomeforChristmasholidays.
“Iwon’tbehereforChristmas,”Isaid.“Thewarwillbeoverbythen.”
Fredshookhishead.“Iwouldn’tthinkso,”hesaid.“That’sbarelyamonth
away.Doesn’tseemtomethatthewar’sproperlystartedyet.”
“Mam’llsendforus,”Isaid.“Alltheotherevacueesareleaving.”
Fredscratchedbehindhisear.“Well,we’llhopenot,won’twe?Don’tknowwhatI’ddowithoutyou,Idon’t.”Hegrinnedatme,andtomysurpriseIgrinnedinreturn.
IknewIcouldn’treallystay.Thegoodthingshere—notbeingshutupintheoneroom,forstarters,andthenButter,andmycrutches,andbeingwarmevenwhenitwascoldoutside.Cleanclothes.Nightlybaths.Threemealsaday.ThatcupofBovrilbeforebedtime.Theoceanseenfromthetopofthehill—allofthesethings,theywerejusttemporary.JustuntilMamcameforus.Ididn’tdaregettoousedtothem.
Itriedtothinkofgoodthingsabouthome.IrememberedMambringinghomefish-’n’-chipsonFridaynights,crispandhotandwrappedinnewspaper.IrememberedthatsometimesMamsang,andlaughed,andonceevendancedJamiearoundthetable.IrememberedhowwhenJamiewaslittlehespenthisdaysinsidewithme.Irememberedthecrackontheceilingthatlookedlikeamaninapointedhat.
AndevenifitfeltlikeMamhatedme,shehadtoloveme,didn’tshe?Shehadtoloveme,becauseshewasmymam,andSusanwasjustsomebodywhogotstucktakingcareofJamieandmebecauseofthewar.Shestillsaidsosometimes.“Ididn’taskforevacuees,”shesaid,whenBovrilpukedmousegutsonthelivingroomrug.“Idon’tneedthis,”shesaid,shakingherhead,whenJamiecamehomewithhissweaterripped,smearedindirtfromheadtotoe.“Ineverwantedchildren,”shesaid,whenButtershiedatapheasantanddumpedmeintheroad,andranhomewithmycrutchestiedtothesaddle.Susancameouttofindme,muttering,crutchesinhand,andwhenshesawmeshescowledandsaiditwasamercyIwasn’tkilled.“Ineverwantedchildren.”
“Ineverwantedyou,”Isaid.
“Ican’timaginewhynot,”shesaid,snorting.“I’msolovingandkind.”Thewindhadcomeupsharpanditwasnearlyfulldark.Iwasshivering.WhenwegothomeSusandrapedablanketaroundmyshoulders.“Makeussometea,”shesaid.“I’llputupthewretchedpony.”Shesquaredhershouldersandstalkedintothenight,andIwatchedhergo,andwantedMam.
IwantedMamtobelikeSusan.
Ididn’treallytrustSusannottobelikeMam.
SusantookusbacktoseeDr.Graham.“Ican’tbelieveit’sthesamechildren,”hesaid.Jamiewastwoinchestaller,andIwasthree.Wewereheaviertoo,andI’dgrownstrongfromridingandhelpingFred.WithmycrutchesIcouldwalkforageswithoutgettingtired.Wedidn’thaveimpetigo,orlice,orscabsonourlegs,oranything.Wewerethepictureofhealth,hesaid.Thenhetookmybadfootandwriggledit.“Stillnothing?”heaskedSusan.
Sheshookherhead.“I’veinvitedhertovisitforChristmas,”shesaid.“Ifshecomes,Ihopetoconvinceher.”
“Who?”askedJamie.
“Neveryoumind,”Susanreplied.
Iwashardlypayingattention.Mymindalwayswanderedintoitsowncornerwhenstrangerstouchedme.Susantappedmyshoulder.“Doesthishurt?”sheasked.
Ishookmyhead.Myfoothurt,italwaysdid,butDr.Grahamwigglingitdidn’tmakeithurtworse.Ijustdidn’tlikeit.
“Ifperhapsyoucoulddothis,everyday,”hesaid,twistingmyfootasthoughunwringingacloth,asthoughhecouldmakeitlookmorenormal,“ifshecouldgainsomeflexibility,thatwouldonlybeahelpforlateron.”
“Specialshoes,”Isaid,mymindcomingbacktome.“Fredsaidclubfoothorseshadspecialshoes.”
Dr.Grahamletgoofmyfoot.“Thatwon’tbeenoughatthisstage,”hesaid.“I’mconvincedyou’llrequiresurgicalintervention.”
“Oh,”Isaid,nothavinganyideawhathemeant.
“Still,”hesaid,“massagemighthelp,andcertainlycandonoharm.”
ItturnedouthemeantMissSmithwasgoingtorubandtugatmyfooteverynight.We’dalreadyswitchedtoreadingSwissFamilyRobinsonintheblacked-outlivingroomafterdinner,snugbythecoalfirethatdidn’tquiteheatourbedroomsupstairs.NowSusansatononeedgeofthesofa,nearestthelamp,whileIsatontheotherandstretchedmyfeetontoherlap.Jamieandhiscatlaybythefireontherug.
“Yourfootissocold,”Susansaid,thefirstevening.“Doesn’titfeelcold?”
Inodded.Wewerestillkeepingitbandaged,butthebandagetendedtogetdampandmyfootwasnearlyalwaysfreezing.“Idon’tmind,”Isaid.“WhenitgetsnumbIcan’tfeelit.”
Susanlookedatme,puzzled.
Isaid,“Whenitgetsnumbitdoesn’thurt.”
Shewinced.“Youcouldgetfrostbite,”shesaid.“Thatwouldn’tbegoodforyou.Weneedabetterplan.”IntypicalSusanfashionshesetaboutmakingone.Firstshetookoneofherownthickwoolstockings,whichwerebiggerthanmineandeasiertoslideovermyinflexibleankle.Thenshemessedaroundwithanoldpairofslippersandaneedleandthread,andprettysoonIhadasortofhouseshoe,withaleatherbottomandknittop.Itdidn’tkeepmyfootcompletelydry,butithelpedalot.“Hmmm,”Susansaid,studyingtheshoe.“We’llkeepworking.”
Shehadhersewingmachinegoingallthetimenow,threeorfourhoursaday.ShemadebedjacketsforsoldiersfromcloththeWVSgaveher.ShemadeacoatforJamieoutofanoldwoolencoatshesaidhadbeenBecky’s.Shewentthroughapileofoldclothesandrippedthemapartattheseams,thenwashedandpressedtheclothpiecesandcutandsewedthemintodifferentthingsentirely.“ThegovernmentcallsitMakeDoandMend,”Susansaid.“IcallithowIwasraised.Mymotherwasanexcellentmanager.”
“Doesyourmotherhateyou?”Iasked.
Herfaceclouded.“No.She’sdead,remember?”
“Didshehateyouwhenshewasalive?”
“Ihopenot,”Susansaid.
“Butyousaidyourfatherdoesn’tlikeyou.”
“No.Hethinksmygoingtouniversitywasabadidea.”
“Didyourmotherthinkthat?”
“Idon’tknow,”Susansaid.“Shealwaysdidwhatevermyfatherwanted.”Shestoppedpinningpiecesofclothtogether.“Itwasn’tagoodthing,”shesaid.“Itmadeherunhappy,butshediditanyway.”
“Butyoudidn’tdowhatyourfatherwanted,”Isaid.
“It’scomplicated,”Susansaid.“AtfirsthewaspleasedwhenIwonaplaceatOxford.Onlylaterhesaidhedidn’tlikethewayitchangedme.HethoughtallwomenshouldgetmarriedandIdidn’tdothat,and—it’scomplicated.OnlyI’mnotsorryImadethechoicesIdid.IfIhadittodooverI’dmakethemagain.”
SusanmadeJamieapairofniceshortstoweartochurchoutofanoldtweedskirtthathadoncebeenBecky’s.SherecutthejacketthathadgonewiththeskirtandturneditintoashortheavycoatIcouldwearwhenIwasriding.
SincethedayIbrokeSusan’ssewingmachineI’drefusedtotouchit,butSusanstartedtoteachmehowtosewbyhand.Shesaiditwasbettertolearnthatwayfirstanyhow.Sheshowedmehowtosewonbuttons,andIsewedthebuttonsontoallthebedjacketsshemade,andmyjacket,andtheflaponJamie’sshorts.
AttheWVSmeeting,shetoldtheotherwomenthatIhadhelpedher.Shesaidso,whenshecamehome.
Onedaysherummagedaroundinherbedroomandcameoutwithanarmfulofwoolyarn.Shegotoutwoodensticks.SheloopedtheyarnaroundthesticksandprettysoonhadmadewarmhatsforJamieandme,andmufflers,andmittenstokeepourhandswarm.
Mymittenslookedliketheyhadtwothumbsapiece.Susanshowedmehowonethumb-partwentovermythumb,andtheotherwentovermylittlestfinger.Shehadtakenverythinscrapsofleatherandsewedthemacrossthepalms.“They’reridingmittens,”shesaid,watchingmyface.“See?”
Isaw.WhenI’dfirststartedridingButterI’dheldthereinsinmyfists,butFredinsistedIdoittheproperway,threadingthemthroughmythirdandfourthfingersandoutovermythumb.InthesemittensIcouldholdthereinsright,andtheleatherstripswouldkeeptheyarnfromwearingaway.
“Imadethemup,”Susansaid.“Theywereallmyownidea.Doyoulikethem?”
ItwasoneofthosetimeswhenIknewtheanswershewantedfromme,butdidn’twanttogiveit.“They’reokay,”Isaid,andthen,relentingalittle,“Thankyou.”
“Sourpuss,”shesaid,laughing.“Woulditkillyoutobegrateful?”
Maybe.Whoknew?
ThevicarcameoveronaSaturdaywithagangofboysandbuiltanAndersonshelterinthebackgardenforus.Andersonshelterswerelittletinhutsthatweresupposedtobesafefrombombs.Oursdidn’tlooksafe.Itlookedsmall,anddark,andflimsy.Thebottomhalfofitwasburiedintheground,andyouhadtogodownthreestepstoopenthelittledoor.Inside,therewasjustroomfortwolongbenches,facingeachother.
Susansaidwewouldn’thavebeenabletodigtheholeourselves,notifweworkedallweekonit.Shetookdrinksouttothevicar,andsaidso.Thevicar,sweatinginhisshirtsleeves,saiditwashispleasure.They’dbeenputtingupAndersonsheltersalloverthevillage.Itwasgoodworkfortheboys.
Someoftheboyswereevacueesandsomeweren’t.OnewasStephenWhite.
HegrinnedandrestedhisshovelwhenIwentovertohim.“Soyou’renotbusyeveryday?”heasked.
“Iambusy,”Isaid.“Iride.IhelpFredGrimes.Idothings.”
“Ijustmeant,yousaidyouweretoobusytocometotea.”
Heusedadirtyhandtopushhishairawayfromhisface,anditleftasmearofmudonhischeek.Still,likeme,helookedbetterthanhehadinLondon.Hisclotheswereneatandclean,andhewastaller.
SomethingabouthisgrinmademefeelIcouldtrusthim.“Iwouldn’tknowwhattodoattea,”Isaid.
Heshrugged.“Sureyoudo.Betyouhaveteaeverynight.”
“Butthatcolonel—”
“He’sanoldducks,heis.You’dlikehimonceyougottoknowhim.”
“Howcomeyoudidn’tgohomewiththerestofyourfamily?”I’dbeenwantingtoaskforages.
Stephenlookeduncomfortable.“Thecolonel’smostlyblind,”hesaid.“You’veseenhim.Andhe’sgotnofamily,andwhenIfirstgotherehewasreallyfeeble.Abunchofthefoodhe’dbeeneatinghadgonebad,onlyhe’slosthissenseoftastetoo,sohecouldn’ttell,andsoitmadehimsick,andhishousewasjustawful.Bugseverywhere,andrats,andhecouldn’tfixanyofit.
“Icleanedtheplaceup.Thevicar’swifetaughtmetocook,justeasythings,andshebringsusfoodsometimestoo.She’snice.AndIreadtothecolonel,andhelikesthat.He’sgotpilesofbooks.”Stephenpickedhisshovelbackupandstartedheavingdirtontothetopoftheshelter.“Mum’saftermetocomehome.I’dliketogo.Imisshome,Ido,butifIleave,thecolonel’lldie.Hereallywill.He’sgotnoone.”
Stephenlookedaroundthemuddygarden,atthehouseandstableandButter’sfield.“Prettyniceplacehere.”
“Yes.”
“Yourmamain’tcomeforyou?”
“No.Shedoesn’twantus.”
Henodded.“Justaswell.Sheshouldn’t’veshutyouuplikeshedid.”
Ishiveredasthewindwhippedhigher.“Itwasbecauseofmyfoot.”
Stephenshookhishead.“Foot’sthesame,isn’tit?”hesaid.“Andyou’renotshutupnow.Cometoteasometime.Thecolonellikeshavingvisitors.”
WheneveryonehadgoneIstoodjustoutsidethedooroftheshelter.Ididn’tlikeit.Itwasdarkanddampandcold;itsmelledlikeMam’scupboardbeneaththesink.Goosebumpsroseonmyarms,andmystomachchurned.Ididn’tgoinside.
Susanstockedtheshelterwithblankets,bottlesofwater,candles,andmatches.Shesaidairraidsirenswouldgooffifenemyplaneswerecomingtobombus.Wewouldhearthesirensandrunintotheshelter,andbesafe.
“WhataboutBovril?”Jamieaskedanxiously.
Bovrilcouldcomeintotheshelter.Susanfoundanoldbasketwithalidonit,andputitintotheshelter.IfBovrilwasscared,Jamiecouldshuthiminthebasket.
“Hewon’tbescared,”Jamiesaid.“He’sneverscared.”
Butterwouldn’tfitintheshelter.
Itwascoldnowanddarkcameearly.ThecolorhadleachedoutofthegrassinButter’sfield,andhe’dstartedtogrowthin.WhenIshowedthistoSusan,shesighed.“It’salltheexerciseyou’regivinghim,”shesaid.“Heusedtobefatenoughhecouldwinteroverongrass.”Sheboughthayandwestackeditinoneoftheemptystalls.Sheboughtabagofoatstoo.EverydayItookButterthreeorfourflakesofhayandabucketofgrain.Hestilllivedoutside.Fredsaiditwashealthierforhim,aswellasbeinglessworkforus.
Backwhentheleaveshadfirststartedchangingcoloronthetrees,I’dbeenalarmed.Susanpromisedthatithappenedeveryyear.Theleaveschangedcolorandfelloff,andthetreeswouldlookdeadallwinter,buttheywouldn’tactuallybedead.Inspringthey’dgrownewgreenleavesagain.
Susanhadgottenoverbeingsurprisedatallthethingswedidn’tknow.Whensheshowedmehowtocookorsewsomething,shealwaysstartedattheverybeginning.“Thisisaneedle.Look,ithasalittleholeononeend,forthethreadtoloopthrough,andapointontheotherend,soitcangointocloth.”Or,“Eggshaveaclearpart,calledthewhite,andayellowpart,calledtheyolk.Youbreakaneggbytappingitontheedgeofthetable,andthencrackingitopenwithyourhands.Onlyoverthebowl,likethis.”
Susansaidwinterusuallymadeherfeelsadandgloomy,thewayshewaswhenwefirstcame.Thiswinter,though,shewasalmosttoobusytobesad.Shehadtoshopandcookandclean,anddothewash—shewasparticularaboutthewash—andsewandgotomeetings.Butasthedaysgrewshorter,shedidseemsad.Shemadeaneffortforus,butyoucouldtellitwasaneffort.Shewasalwaystired.
Itriedtobehelpful.Icooked,andsewedbuttons.Iwentwithhertotheshops.Ilearnedtohembedjackets.MeanwhileIstillhelpedFredtwiceaweek,andIrodeButtereveryday.
OnarainycoldWednesdayafternoonSusansatslumpedinherchair.Ihadfinishedwashingthelunchdishes.Jamiehadgonetoschool.Thefirewasburninglow,soIaddedcoalandpokeditupalittle.“Thankyou,”Susanmurmured.
Shelookedfrailandshivery.She’dspilledabitofpotatofromlunchdownthefrontofherblouse,andnotscrubbeditclean,whichwasn’tlikeher.Ididn’twantherstayinginbedalldayagain.Isatdownonthesofa,andI
lookedather,andIsaid,“Maybeyoucouldshowmehowtoread.”
Shelookedupdisinterestedly.“Now?”
Ishrugged.
Shesighed.“Oh,verywell.”Wewenttothekitchentableandshegotoutapencilandpaper.“Allthewordsintheworldaremadeupofjusttwenty-sixletters,”shesaid.“There’sabigandalittleversionofeach.”
Shewrotethelettersoutonthepaper,andnamedthemall.Thenshewentthroughthemagain.Thenshetoldmetocopythemontoanotherpieceofpaper,andthenshewentbacktoherchair.Istaredatthepaper.Isaid,“Thisisn’treading.Thisisdrawing.”
“Writing,”shecorrected.“It’slikebuttonsandhems.You’vegottolearnthosebeforeyoucansewonthemachine.You’vegottoknowyourlettersbeforeyoucanread.”
Isupposedso,butitwasboring.WhenIsaidsoshegotupagainandwrotesomethingalongthebottomofthepaper.
“What’sthat?”Iasked.
“‘Adaisacurmudgeon,’”shereplied.
“Adaisacurmudgeon,”Icopiedattheendofmyalphabet.Itpleasedme.
Afterthat,withhelpfromJamie,IleftSusanlittlenoteseveryday.Susanisabigfrog.(ThatonemadeJamiegiggle.)Butteristhebestponyever.Jamiesingslikeasquirrel.AndthensomepapersIkept,becausetheywereuseful,andIcouldputthemonthekitchentablewheneverIneededtoleaveSusanamessage.Itmadeherhappierwhensheknewwherewewere.AdaisatFred’s.AdaisridingButter.Jamiewenttotheairfield.
Hewasn’tsupposedto,buthedid.They’dgottensousedtohimsneakinginunderthefencethattheyhardlybotheredtoscoldhimanymore.“Only,iftheysayIhavetoleave,Ihavetoleaverightaway,”Jamietoldus.“Iftheydon’tsayso,Icanstayandtalktothem.”Planesfascinatedhim.Hemadefriendswiththepilots,andtheylethimsitinsidetheSpitfireswhentheywereparkedonthefield.
SusanaskedushowweusuallycelebratedChristmas.Wedidn’tknowwhattosay.Christmaswasabigdayatthepub,soMamalwaysworked.She’dgetlotsoftips,andusuallywe’dhavesomethinggoodtoeat,fishandchipsorameatpie.
“Doyouhangupyourstockings?”Susanasked.
Jamiefrowned.“Whatfor?”
We’dheardofFatherChristmas—itwassomethingotherchildrentalkedabout—butwedidn’tgetvisitsfromhim.
Isaid,“Whatdoyouusuallydo?”
Herfacewentsoft,remembering.“TheChristmaseswhenBeckywasalivewe’dhaveabigdinnerwithsomeofourfriends,”shesaid.“Roastgoose,orturkey.Inthemorningwe’dexchangepresents—wealwayshadalittletree,andwe’ddecoratethewindowsillswithholly—andthenwe’dhavesomethingwonderfulforbreakfast,hotstickybunsandbaconandcoffee,andthenwe’djustlazearounduntilitwastimetostartmakingdinner.OnBoxingDayBeckywouldgohunting.
“WhenIwaslittle,myfamilyallwenttomidnightservicesonChristmasEve.Myfatherwouldpreach.Thechurchalwayslookedbeautifulinthecoldcandlelight.ThenI’dgotosleep—suchashortsleep!—andwakeuptomystockingfilledwithlittlepresentsatthefootofmybed.Thebiggergiftsweredownstairs,underthetree.Mothercookedahugemeal,andalltheauntsandunclesandcousinscame…”Hervoicetrailedaway.“We’lldosomethingnice,”shesaid,“foryourfirstChristmashere.”
“CanMamcome?”Jamieasked.
Susanputherhandonhishead.“Ihopeshewill,”shesaid.“I’veinvitedher,butIhaven’tgottenareply.”
“I’llwritetoher,”Jamiesaid.
“Youdon’thaveto,”Itoldhim.Itseemedrisky.IfweremindedMamthatwewerehere,wouldshecomeandgetus?
“Weneedtotalktoheraboutyourfoot,”Susansaid.
“Well,I’mnotwriting,”Isaid.Ihadmemorizedthealphabet,andwasstartingtounderstandhowthelettersshouldsound,sothatIcouldreadevenwordsIhadn’tseenbefore.Icouldwrite,abit.ButnottoMam.
“Youdon’thaveto,”Susansaid,herarmaroundme.
Theshopsfilledwiththemostamazingthings:orangesandnutsandallsortsofcandyandtoys.SusansaidpeopleweredeterminedtohaveahappyChristmasdespitethewar.Sheherselforderedagoose,sinceJamieandIhadneverhadone,andthensheinvitedsomeofthepilotsfromtheairfieldtocomeeatitwithus,becausethegoosewastoobigforthethreeofusalone.IinvitedFred,buthesaidhealwayswenttohisbrother’shouseandhedidn’t
liketobreaktradition.“Butthankyoukindly,”headded.
SoIinvitedMaggie.
ItseemedrighttomethatifJamiegottohavepilots,Ishouldhaveafriendtodinnertoo.BesidesFred,andmaybeStephen,MaggiewastheonlyfriendIhad.
ShecamebackfromherschooltheweekbeforeChristmas.Werodetogetherupthebighill,wherethewindwasblowinghardandwecouldseedowntothebarricadedbeach.Maggiewasdifferent,stifferandmorestandoffishthanshe’dbeenthedayIrodeherhome.Shelookedelegantonherpony,withherleatherglovesandherlittlevelvetcap.
Iputmyhanduptoshieldmyeyes.Ridingupthehillhadbeenmyidea.“IalwayscheckforspieswhenI’muphere,”Isaid.“We’resupposedto,youknow.”Weweretoldsobythegovernmentmenontheradio.Nazispiescouldbedressedasnurses,ornuns,oranything.
“Iknow,”Maggiesaidcrossly.“I’mnotstupid.”Thensheadded,“Whydidn’tyouwritebacktome?Iaskedyouto.”
Ihadn’tknownshe’daskedme.Fredhadn’treadmethatpartofherletter.AndwhileI’dhadanothercoupleofgoesatreadingit,Maggie’shandwritingwascurlywiththelettersruntogether.Icouldn’tmakeoutthewords.
Iwasashamedtoadmitthis.“I’vebeenverybusy,”Isaid.
Sheflashedmealookofhurtandanger.Iunderstood,suddenly,thatshe’dbeenwaitingformetowriteback,waitingandhopingforaletter.Ididn’tknowshefeltthatwayaboutme.
Itookadeepbreath.“I’mjustnowlearningtowrite,”Isaid.“Andread.SoIcouldn’twritebackyet.I’msorry.NexttimeI’lltry.”
Insteadoflookinghorrifiedbymyignorance,shelookedmollified.(Susantaughtmethatword,andIlovedit.Mollified.SometimeswhenJamiewascross,hehadtobemollified.)“Ididn’tthinkofthat,”shesaid.“Ithoughtyoujustweren’tinterested.Butwouldn’tMissSmithhavehelpedyou?Shewouldhavewrittendownwhatyouwantedtosay.”
Shewouldhave,ifI’dasked.“Ididn’twanttoaskher.Idon’tlikeherhelpingme.”
“Whyevernot?”
“Idon’twanttogetusedtoher,”Isaid.“She’sjustsomeonewehavetostaywithforalittlewhile.She’snot,youknow,actuallyreal.”
Maggielookedmeupanddown.“Sheseemsrealtome,”shesaid.“Isaw
youthedayyougotoffthattrain.Youlookedlikeyou’dalreadybeenthroughawar.Thenyoulookedbetterthedayyouhelpedme.Andnow!Sidesaddleonapony,andfancyclothes,andnotsoskinnyyourbonesshow.Youreyesaredifferenttoo.Before,youlookedscaredtodeath.”
Ididn’twanttotalkaboutit.Thereweren’tanyspiesinview,noranyships,andButterwastiredofstandinginthewind.“Raceyoutothevillage,”Isaid.
Maggiewon,butnotbymuch,andIstayedinthesaddlethewholetimeeventhoughButtergallopedfasterthanhe’devergonebefore.WefollowedMaggie’sponyovertwofallenlogs—littlesoaringjumps,myfirst.Bythetimewepulledupontheoutskirtsoftown,bothponiesblowinghard,Maggie’shairhadcomeloosefromitsplaitandhercheekswerebrightred.Shewaslaughing.She’dforgottenIeverlookedscared.
IknewSusanwasn’treal.Or,ifshewasatinybitreal,sometimes,attheverybestshewasonlytemporary.She’dbedonewithusoncethewarwasover,orwheneverMamchangedhermind.
Maggiecouldn’tcomeforChristmasdinner.Shesaidshewishedshecould,butherbrotherwasexpectedhomefromaviationtraining,andherfatherwascomingfromwhereverhewasdoingsecretwarwork,andtheywereallhavingtheirtraditionalChristmas.Soofcourseshehadtostayhome.“It’llbeamiserableday,”shesaid.“MumwillbetryingnottoblubberoverJonathan,soshe’llbesnippywitheveryone.Dad’swoundupaboutHitlerandwon’ttalkaboutanythingbutthewar,especiallysincethere’snohunting,andMumhatestalkingaboutthewar.Thecookquittoworkinafactoryandthehousekeeper’sanawfulcook,andwe’venotgotbutonemaidleft,andnofootmeninthehouseatall.SoI’llbescrubbingonChristmasEveandMumwillbetryingtohelpcook,andwe’llsitdowninthisbigfancyroomwithcobwebsinthecornersandeathorriblefoodandpretendtobecheerfulandnothing,nothingwillbelikeitusedto.
“Peoplekeepsayingitisn’treallyawar,”shesaid.“Hardlyanybody’sbeingbombed,hardlyanybody’sfighting.Itfeelslikeawartome.Awarrightinmyfamily.”Shegavemeasidewayslook.“You’reprobablyhappy,”shesaid.
“I’mnothappybecauseyou’remiserable,”Ishotback.
Sheshookherhead.“Oh,ofcoursenot.Comeon.”Wewereridingagain,butthistimewetookapathMaggiechose,throughwoodsdowntothebeach.Wehadtostayonthefarsideofthebarbedwire,butwefollowedtheroadalongthebeachandwatchedthewavescrashagainsttheshore.Itamazedme,howdifferenttheoceancouldlookfromdaytoday.
Susantookanaxandmadeusgowithheroutintosomebody’sfieldandcutdownalittletree.Itwasnotatreethatwentdeadinthewinter.IthadlittlegreenspikesonitsbranchesinsteadofleavesandSusancalleditanevergreen.
Itwassnowing,andtheairwaswetandcold.“Whatfor?”Iasked.SusanandJamieluggedthetreehomewhileIwalkedwithmycrutchesbesidethem.
“Christmastrees,”Susansaid,“remindusthatGodislikeanevergreentree—eveninwinter,neverdead.”
“Butyousaidtheothertreesweren’tdeadeither,”Jamiepointedout.
“Well,no,they’renot,”Susansaid.“Buttheylookdead.AndChristmastreesareanicetradition.Greeninthemidstofwinter,lightinthemidstofdarkness—it’sallmetaphorsforGod.”
Iignoredthewordmetaphor,butasked,“What’sChristmasgottodowithGod?”
Well.YouwouldthinkI’dsaidsomethingreallyodd.Susangapedatme,mouthopen,fishlike,andwhenshefinallyclosedhermouthshesputtered,“Haven’tyoubeenlearninganythinggoingtochurch?”
Ishrugged.Churchwashardtofollow.Sometimesthestoriesmadesense,butmostlytheydidn’t,andalthoughthevicarseemednice,Ialmostneveractuallylistenedtohim.ImighthavelikedthesongsifIcouldhavereadthemfastenoughtoactuallysing.
ItturnedoutChristmaswasJesus’sbirthday.Jesuswasthemanhangingonthecrossupinthefrontofthechurch—Ialreadyknewthatpart.So,easyenough.ButthenJamieasked,“Howdidtheyknow?WhenJesus’sbirthdaywas?”
Susansaid,“Well.Idon’tsupposetheydidknow.Notabsolutely.”
Jamienodded.“LikeAdaandme.”
“Right,”Susansaid.“Butwe’vegotyourpretendbirthdaysonyouridentitycards,sowe’llcelebrateyourbirthdaysonthosedays.Christmasislikethat.”
Jamiesaid,“WasChristmasthebirthdayonJesus’sidentitycard?”
“Youstupid,”Isaid.“Jesuswasn’tinawar.”
“Don’tcallhimstupid,”Susansaid.
“Itwasastupidthingtosay.”
“Sayingsomethingstupiddoesn’tmakeyoustupid,”Susansaid.“Luckily
forallofus.”
Wetookthetreeintothehouseandsetitupinthecornerofthelivingroom.Susanputastringoflittleelectriclightsinitsbranches.ShewentintoBecky’sroomupstairsandcameoutwithabigbox.Shelookedinside,blinkedbacktears,andshuttheboxagain.
“Let’smakeourownornaments,”shesaid.“Wouldn’tyoulikethat?”
HowwouldIknow?Icouldtellshewantedmetolikeit,andIdidn’twanthertocry.Itmademenervouswhenshecried.“Yes?”Isaid.
“Oh,Ada.”Shegavemeahugwithherfreearm.Itookadeepbreath,anddidn’tpullaway.“ThesearetheornamentsBeckyandIputonourtreestogether.I’mnotreadytohavethemoutagain.”
“Okay,”Isaid.
“Okay?”sheasked.“Really?”
Ididn’tknowwhattosay.SomehowChristmaswasmakingmefeeljumpyinside.Allthistalkaboutbeingtogetherandbeinghappyandcelebrating—itfeltthreatening.LikeIshouldn’tbepartofit.LikeIwasn’tallowed.AndSusanwantedmetobehappy,whichwasscarierstill.
OrnamentswerelittleprettythingsyouhungonaChristmastree.Susangotoutcoloredpaper,andscissors,andglue.Sheshowedushowtomakesnowflakesandstars.Iworkedhardtomakemineasgoodashers.Jamiecuthispaperquickintoraggedshapes.Wehungthemallup,raggedandcarefulboth,andthetreedidlookprettyinthecorneroftheroom.Bovrilthoughtsotoo.Helayunderitduringtheday,battingthelowestornamentswithhispaws.Jamiewaddedupsomeoftheleftoverpaper,andintheeveningstosseditbackandforthacrossthefloorforBovriltopounceupon.
Ihatedsharingmybedwithacat.SometimesIwokewithatailinmyfaceandtherealwaysseemedtobehairinthesheets.JamieinsistedhecouldonlysleepifBovrilwastuckedupwithhim,andBovril,drathim,seemedtofeelthesameway.
Itsnowedagain.WhenIrodeButterovertoMaggie’s,snowballedupunderhisfeet,andclumpedinthebottomofhistail.Thewholeworldwaswhiteandsparkling.SnowinLondondidn’tstaywhiteforlong.
Maggie’dbeenhelpingFredeverydaysinceshe’dcomehome,andonthe
dayswhenIwasthereweallworkedtogether.Fredhadstartedmeproperlyjumpingnow,littlejumps,butnottodaybecausethesnowwastoodeep.
“Youknowyou’resupposedtogetSusanaChristmaspresent,”Maggiesaidaswemeasuredoatsinthefeedroom.
“Why?”Iasked.I’dheardaboutpresents.Ididn’tgetthem.Ididn’tneedtogivethem.Isaidso.
Maggierolledhereyesatme.“Ofcourseyou’llbegettingpresents,”shesaid.“Susanisnicetoyou.Notlikesome.”
Inodded.Someoftheevacuees,thosethatwereleft,weren’ttreatedverykindly.Notbecauseofanythingtodowiththem,butbecausethey’dbeenputwithmeanoldhagswhowouldn’thavewelcomedJesushimself.Atleastthat’swhatJamiesaid.Hetalkedtotheotherevacueesatschool,andtheywereenvious,theywere,thattheyhadn’tbeenchosenlast.
“So,”Maggiesaid,“youshouldgethersomething.It’sonlyright.”
“Ihaven’tgotanymoney.Notanyatall.”
“Don’tyougetpocketmoney?”
“No.Doyou?”
“Oh,”Maggiesaid.Shechewedherbottomlipwhileshethought.“Well,youcouldfindsomejobtodo,andearnsomething.Isuppose.Oryoucouldmakehersomething.She’dlikethat.MymumalwayslikesitwhenImakehersomething.”
Itwasaninterestingidea.IthoughtaboutitasIstartedhome.SusanhadbeenteachingmetoknitsothatIcouldknitforthesoldiers,butsofartheonlythingI’dmadehadbeenawashcloth.Itwasahideouswashcloth,widerononeendthantheother,withloopystitchesthatlookednothinglikeSusan’s.Susanclaimeditdidn’tmatter,becausesoldierswouldbegladtohaveawashclothnomatterwhatitlookedlike.Shealsosaidknittingwaslikewriting,orriding,oranythingelse:Yougotbetterthemoreyouworkedatit.
Icouldworkatit,ifIhurried.IturnedButterintheroad,and,despitehisprotests,madehimgobackthroughthesnowtoMaggie’shouse.Fredlookedsurprisedtoseeme.“Trouble?”heasked.
“Ineedsomewool,”Isaid.
“Aye,”Fredsaid,nodding,asthoughgirlsrodetohimthroughsnowstormsallthetime,needingwool.Hedisappearedintothestables,andIheardhimclopupthestairstotheroomsintheloftwherehelived.Hecamedowncarryingaclothbagprintedinbrightflowers.“It’sthemissus’sknittingbag,”hesaid,thrustingitatme.“It’sfullofwool.Allsorts.Youcanhaveit.”
Ididn’tknowhehadamissus.“Aye,”hesaid,inresponsetomyunspokenquestion.“She’sbeendeadfiveyears.WasnursetoMissMargaretandMasterJonathan,andbeforethattotheirmotherandherbrothers.”
Isquashedthebulkybagbeneathmyjackettokeepitoutofthesnow.Buttertossedhishead,restless,andIlethimturnforhome.
“Wait.”FredgrabbedButter’sbridle.“Whensomeonegivesyouapresent,”hesaid,withagentlesmile,“yousay‘Thankyou.’”
Susanhadtaughtmethat,butI’dbeensobusythinkingaboutthewoolthebagcontainedthatI’dforgotten.“Thankyou,Fred,”Isaid.“Thankyouverymuch.IwishIcouldsaythankyoutoyourmissustoo.”
“Ah,well.”Heshookhishead.“Happenshe’dbegladIfoundherthingsagoodhome.You’reverywelcome,child.”
ItwasThursdayalreadyandChristmaswasMonday,soIdidn’thavemuchtime.WhenIgothomeIdumpedthebagontomybed.Therewerefivesetsofknittingneedles,fromthicktothin,andahandfulofsmallerthinsticksthatwerepointedonbothends.Therewereallsortsofoddmentsofwool,rolledintoballs,andthereweresixballsoffine,whitewool.
Thewhitewoolwouldbebest.Ihadplentyofit.Icastonandstartedtowork.
IexpectedSusantobesuspiciouswhenIspentthewholeafternooninmycoldbedroom,andshewas.“Whatareyouupto?”sheaskedatdinner.
Iranthroughmyoptionsinmyhead.Iwasn’tsleeping.Iwasn’ttakingabath.Icouldn’tbelisteningtotheradio.StallingwhileIsearchedforaplausibleexcuse,Isaid,“Nothing.”
Tomysurprise,shegrinned.“Oh,really?I’llmakeabargainwithyou.Youcanhaveafewhoursofnothingtimeupstairsanytimetherestofthisweekyoulike,aslongasyougivemethesameamountofnothingtime
downstairs.Youshoutbeforeyoucomedown,andwaituntilItellyouokay.Deal?”
Icouldonlynod.InthedaystocomeIcouldsometimeshearthewhirrofhersewingmachinewhileIknitupstairs.Itookahotwaterbottlewithmeandputablanketaroundmyshoulders,andIknitwhitewoolandoddmentsallthenexttwodays.WretchedBovrilstartedwantingtositinmylapontopofthewaterbottle,untilIthrewhimoutandshutthedoor.
ThedaybeforeChristmaswasaSunday.WhenJamieandIgotupwedressedintheclothesSusaninsistedwesaveforSundays,Jamieinhiswhiteshirtandtweedshortsandgooddarksocks,meinthereddressMaggiehadgivenme.WewentdowntobreakfastandSusanshookherhead.“Sorry,forgot.Goputyourregularthingsonfortheday.We’regoingtochurchatnight.Allofus,evenme.It’sChristmasEve.”
BecauseitwasChristmasEvewehadbaconatbreakfast.DuringthedayIhelpedmakebiscuits.Jamieroastedchestnutsforthegoose’sdressing.Susanputtheradioon,andsangalongtotheChristmasmusic.
Midafternoonshemadeusbathe.Shebrushedmyhairdownstairsbythefireuntilitwasdry,andbraideditintwoplaitsinsteadofone.Weatesupper,andthenshetoldJamietogoupstairsandputonhischurchclothes.Shetoldmetositstill.“Ihaveasurprise.”
Sheputabigboxwrappedinpaperontomylap.Insidewasadressmadeofsoftdarkgreenfabric.Ithadpuffedsleevesandaroundcollar,anditgatheredatthewaistbeforebillowingoutintoalong,fullskirt.
ItwassobeautifulIcouldn’ttouchit.Ijuststared.
“Come,”Susansaid.“Let’sseeifitfits.”
Iheldperfectlystillwhileshetookoffmysweaterandblouse,andsettledthegreendressovermyhead.“Stepoutofyourskirt,”Susansaid,andIdid.Shebuttonedthedressandsteppedback.“There,”shesaid,smiling,hereyessoftandwarm.“It’sperfect.Ada.You’rebeautiful.”
Shewaslying.Shewaslying,andIcouldn’tbearit.IheardMam’svoiceshriekinginmyhead.“Youuglypieceofrubbish!Filthandtrash!Noonewantsyou,withthatuglyfoot!”Myhandsstartedtoshake.Rubbish.Filth.Trash.IcouldwearMaggie’sdiscards,orplainclothesfromtheshops,butnotthis,notthisbeautifuldress.IcouldlistentoSusansaysheneverwantedchildrenalldaylong.Icouldn’tbeartohearhercallmebeautiful.
“What’sthematter?”Susanasked,perplexed.“It’saChristmaspresent.I
madeitforyou.Bottlegreenvelvet,justlikeIsaid.”
Bottlegreenvelvet.“Ican’twearthis,”Isaid.Ipulledatthebodice,fumblingforthebuttons.“Ican’twearit.Ican’t.”
“Ada.”Susangrabbedmyhands.Shepulledmetothesofaandsetmedownhardbesideher,stillrestrainingme.“Ada.WhatwouldyousaytoJamie,ifIgavehimsomethingniceandhesaidhecouldn’thaveit?Think.Whatwouldyousay?”
Tearswererunningdownmyfacenow.Istartedtopanic.IfoughtSusan’sgrasp.“I’mnotJamie!”Isaid.“I’mdifferent,I’vegottheuglyfoot,I’m—”Mythroatclosedoverthewordrubbish.
“Ada.Ada.”IfeltIcouldhardlyhearSusan’svoice.Ascreambuiltupfromsomewhereinsideme,cameroaringoutinanoceanofsound.Screamafterscream—Jamierunninghalf-dresseddownthestairs,Susanpinningdownmyarms,holdingmeagainsther,holdingmetight.Wavesofpanichitme,overandover,turningmeandtossingmeuntilIthoughtI’ddrown.
Wedidn’tgotochurch.Weendeduponthefloorinfrontofthefire,wrappedinblanketsJamiedraggeddownthestairs.Allofus.Idon’tknowhowlongIscreamedandflailed.Idon’tknowhowlongSusanrestrainedme.Ikickedherandscratchedherandprobablywouldhavebittenher,butsheheldon.Idon’tknowwhatJamiedid,otherthanbringdowntheblankets.Susanwrappedmeinone,rolledmeuptight,andthepanicstartedtoease.“That’sit,”Susancroaked.“Shh.Shh.You’reokay.”
Iwasnotokay.Iwouldneverbeokay.ButIwastooexhaustedtoscreamanymore.
WhenIwoke,thefirstraysofwintersunlightwerecomingthroughthewindowontothelittleChristmastree.Thecoalembersshonedullybeneathalayerofashes.JamiesleptwrappedinablanketwithBovril’sfacepeepingoutbeneathhischin.Susansnoredgently.Oneofherarmswasflungup,underherear;theotherstillrestedacrossme.Herhairhadcomeoutofitsbunandwasstickingoutinalldirections.ShehadalongredfurrowdownonecheekfromwhereI’dscratchedher,andherblouse—herbestblouse—hadaripattheshoulderandabuttonhangingbyathread.Shelookedlikeshe’dbeeninawar.
IwassocompletelywoundinagrayblanketthatIcouldonlymovemyhead.Iturneditfromsidetoside,lookingfirstatJamie,thenatSusan,thenatthelittleChristmastree.Susanwouldbeangrywhenshewoke.Shewouldbefurious,becauseI’dscreamedaboutthedress,becauseIhadn’tbeengrateful,becauseI’dmessedupherplans.Wehadn’tgonetochurchbecauseofme.
Mystomachworkeditselfintoaknot.Shewouldbeangry.Shewouldhit—no.Shewouldn’thitme.Shehadn’t,atleastnotsofar.Shehadn’thitmeoncethenightbefore,notevenwhenI’dhurther.She’dwrappedmeupandheldmetight.
Ididn’tknowwhattodo.Susanwastemporary.Myfootwaspermanent.Ilayintheweaksunshineandwantedtoweepinsteadofscream.ButIalmostnevercried.Whatwaswrongwithmenow?
Jamiestirred.Heopenedhiseyesandsmiled—smiledhisbeautifulsmile.AllofmylifeIwouldrememberthesweetnessofthatsmile.“Goodmorning,Ada,”Jamiesaid.“MerryChristmas.”
Ididn’tknowwhatSusanhadsaidordonetoJamiebeforehefellasleep,buthewokeasthoughsleepingonthelivingroomfloorwasperfectlyordinary.Hesatup,rubbedBovril’sbelly,thenputthecatoutsidetodohisbusinessandaddedcoaltothefire.
TherattleofthecoalscuttlewokeSusan.Iwatchedhercarefullyassheopenedhereyesandcametoanawarenessofwhereshewas.Shesawme,andshesmiledtoo.
Smiled.
“Goodmorning,Ada,”shesaid.“MerryChristmas.”
Iwantedtoburymyheadinmyblanketsandweepandscream,butIdidn’t.InsteadIsaid,“Ican’tgetup.Ican’tmovemyarms.”
Shesatupanduntangledme.“Iwasn’ttryingtotrapyou,”shesaid.“Itseemedtosootheyou,tobebundledlikethat.”
“Iknow,”Isaid.“Itdid.”Ipointedtotheriponherblouse.
“It’sinaseam,”shesaid.“Icanfixit.”Shebrushedmyloosehairbackfrommyface.“Wouldyoulikesomebreakfast?”
Wegotupandwentupstairsandwashedourfacesandusedtheloo.AtSusan’ssuggestionwetookoffourgoodclothesandputonourpajamasanddressinggowns.Whenwecamebackdownthestairs,therewasapileofbrightlywrappedpackagesunderthetree.
Presents.
“LookslikeSantaClaushasbeenhere,”Susansaidgaily.
SeemedoddthatSantaClauswouldstayawayallnight,butcomewhilewewerechangingourclothes.Iopenedmymouthtosayso,butsawJamie’sglowingfaceintimeandshutupfast.
Jamie’seyeswerelitwithjoy.“Hereallydidcome!Tous!Hedid!”hesaid.“EventhoughAdawasbad.”Hegavemeaquickguiltylook.“Imean—”
“It’sokay,”Isaid,slippingmyarmaroundhisshoulders.“Iwasbad.”IwonderedifthepresentswereallforJamie.Couldanypossiblybeforme?
“Notbad,”Susansaid.Shehelpedmedownthelastfewsteps.“Notbad,Ada.Sad.Angry.Frightened.Notbad.”
Sad,angry,frightenedwerebad.Itwasnotokaytobeanyofthose.Icouldn’tsayso,though,notonthatgentlemorning.
IhadthegiftsI’dmadestuffedintothepocketsofmydressinggown.I
didn’thaveanypapertowrapthem.Iwasn’tsurewhattodo.
“Breakfast,”Susansaid.She’dputthekettleonfortea,andstartedapanfullofsizzlingsausages.Shefrieduseachanegg.Onthetable,laidacrossourplates,weretwoofourstockings,oneeach.Theywerestuffedfullandknobbly.Ipokedmine.“Youshouldhavehungthoseuplastnight,”shesaid.“ButIseeSantafoundthemanyway.HavealookinsidewhileIfinishcooking.”
Anorange.Ahandfulofwalnuts.Boiledsweets.Twolonghairribbons,onegreenandoneblue.Inthetoe,ashilling.
Jamiehadthesame,excepthehadawhistleinsteadofhairribbons,andanIndiarubberball.
Shinybrightgirls,withribbonsintheirhair.Iwantedtoweepalloveragain.Iwantedtoscream.
Whatwaswrongwithme?
Icouldn’tmessupJamie’sChristmas.Istrokedthesatinribbonsandwentawayinmyhead.IwasonButter,uponthehill,galloping,galloping—
“Ada.”Susantouchedmyshoulder.“Comeback.”
Friedsausagesonmyplate.Afriedegg,itsyolkasbrightasthesun.Toast,andstronghottea.Jamieblewhiswhistle—apiercingshriek.“Savethatforoutside,”Susansaid,rufflinghishair.
Afterbreakfastweopenedourpresents.Jamiegotatoymotorcarandasetofbuildingblocks.IgotanewhalterforButter,andapadofpaperandasetofcoloredpencils.Weeachgotabook.MinewascalledAliceinWonderland.Jamie’swasPeterPan.
Susandidn’tgetanythingfromSantaClaus.ShetoldJamiegrown-upsdidn’t.ButIpulledmygiftsfrommypocket.ForJamieIhadascarfmadeofalltheoddmentsofyarn,differentcolorsandkinds,instripes.Helookedatitandfrowned.“IlikethescarfSusanmademebetter,”hesaid.Susanpokedhimandhesaid,“Thankyou,”whichkeptmefromsmackinghim.
ThenIgaveSusanherscarf,knitfromthewhitewool.I’dmadeherslastofallmygifts,soitwouldbethebest,becauseIreallydidgetbetteratknittingthemoreIdidit.
Susanunfoldeditagainstherknee.“Ada,it’sbeautiful.Thisiswhatyou’vebeendoing?”
“IgotthewoolfromFred,”Isaidquickly,soshe’dknowIhadn’tstolenit.
Shehuggedme.“Iloveit.I’llweariteveryday.”
Ishruggedheraway.Itwastoomuch,allthisemotion.Iwantedtogetaway.Sheseemedtounderstandeventhat.“Putyourjodsonandrunouttoseeyourpony,”shesaid.“Jamie’llhelpmeclearup,andwe’llgetstartedondinner.”
Jamie’sthreepilotscamemidafternoon.Theyworetheirbestuniformsandidenticalpolitesmiles.TheygaveSusanabottleofwine,aboxofchocolates,andapottedplant.SusantoldthemshefeltlikeshewasgettingthegiftsoftheMagi,andtheylaughed.
Thehousesmelledlikeroastgoose.Thefireplacecrackled.Thesunwassettingalready,andthelivingroomlookedwarmandbrightevenwiththeblackoutsup.Thepilotssatawkwardlyonthesofa,allinarow,butthenJamiestartedcuttingup,runninghisnewcarovertheirkneesandgrinningandactingsilly,andprettysoononeofthepilotswasonthefloorplayingwithJamie,makingtowerswiththebuildingblocksandsmashingintothemwiththecar,andSusangavetheothertwopilotsglassesofwineandeveryoneseemedmuchmorerelaxed.
Iwasn’trelaxed.Iwaswearingthegreendress.
I’dputitonwhenIcameinfromseeingButter,becauseIknewitwouldpleaseSusan,anditdid.Shebrushedmyhairandletithangloose,tyingmynewgreenribbonaroundmyhead.“That’sanAliceribbon,”shesaid.“Thegirlinyourbook,Alice,shewearsherhairlikethat.”
Ifeltlikeanimposter.ItwasworsethanwhenItriedtotalklikeMaggie.HereIwas,lookinglikeMaggie.Lookinglikeashinybrightgirlwithhairribbons.Lookinglikeagirlwithafamilythatlovedher.
Jamiesqueezedmyarm.“Youlooknice,”hewhispered,scanningmyfaceanxiously.
Itookadeepbreath.Ididhavefamilythatlovedme.Jamielovedme.
Susancalledustodinner.She’dputChristmascrackersbyeveryone’splate.I’dneverseenthembefore.Theyweretubesofpaper;whenyoupulledtheendsapart,theymadeacrackingnoiseandpapercrownsandlittletoysfelloutofthem.Weallworeourpapercrownstodinner.ThepilotsandSusanandJamielaughedandtalked,andIategooseandtriedtokeepmyinsidesstill.
“That’saprettydress,”oneofthepilotssaidtome.
Ifeltpricklyallover,likemyskinwastootightformybody,butIwasn’tgoingtoletmyselflosecontrolagain.“Thankyou,”Isaid.“It’snew.”Itwas
kindofhimtomentionmydressinsteadofmybadfoot.Itoldmyselfthat,overandover,andkeptstill.
Whentheyleft,Susansatmeonthesofabesideher.“Thatwashardforyou,”shesaid.Inodded.Shepulledmeagainsther,tight,thewayshehadthenightbeforeexceptthatIwasn’tscreaming.“Puttheradioon,Jamie,”shesaid.“Ada,let’sseetoyourfoot.”Isighedandarrangedmyselfonthesofa,mybadfootinherlap.Shepulledoffmystockingandstartedrubbingandtwistingit,thewayshedideverynight.Wewere,shesaid,makingaverysmallbitofprogress.
“Where’sourbook?”Jamiesaid,andwenttofetchit.WewerehalfwaythroughreadingSwissFamilyRobinsonforthesecondtime.Iunderstoodthestorybetternow,butIstilldidn’tlikeit.Thefamilylandedontheperfectisland,whereeverythingtheyneededwasrightinfrontofthem.Susanpointedoutthattheyhadtoworktogethertoputthegoodthingstouse.Jamiejustlikedtheadventures.
“Notthat,”Isaid.“Readmine.”ImadeJamiefetchAliceinWonderland.BetweenAlice’shairribbonandthewordwonderland,IdoubtedI’dlikeit,butitwasbetterthanmoreFamilyRobinson.
Itwasbetter.Alicechasedafterarabbitwhowaswearingclothesandapocketwatch.HewentdownhisholejustliketherabbitsIsawwhenIwasoutonButter,butshewentafterhim,andfellintoaplaceshedidn’tbelong,aplacewhereabsolutelynothingmadesensetoher.
Itwasus,Ithought.Jamieandme.Wehadfallendownarabbithole,fallenintoSusan’shouse,andnothingmadesense,notatall,notanymore.
InJanuaryrationingbegan.Itwasawayofsharingoutwhatfoodtherewassothatrichpeople,likeSusan,couldn’tgohoggingitandleavingpoorpeopletostarve.Rationingmeanttheremightnotbeanybutterormeatintheshops,andiftherewasyou’dbettergetinthequeueforitfastbeforeitsoldout.Weallhadrationbooksthatsaidhowmuchfoodwewereallowed.
ItmadeJamienervous.Metoo.Susanhadalwaysgivenusplentyoffood,butweknewthatwasbecauseshewasrich,nomatterwhatshesaid.I’dgottenusedtoeatingregular.
Wetriedeatingless.ThefirsttimeJamieaskedtobeexcusedbeforehefinishedhisdinnerSusanfelthisforehead.“Areyousick?”sheasked.Heshookhishead.“Theneat.Iknowyoucan’tbefull.”
“I’llsaveitfortomorrow,”hesaid.
Ipushedmyplateaway.“Metoo.”
Susantoldusfirmlythatwewerenottosaveourdinners.Shesaidrationingmeantwewouldhavetoeatdifferentkindsoffood,morevegetables,lessmeat,lessbutterandsweets.Itdidnotmeantherewouldnotbeenoughfood.Therewouldalwaysbeenoughfood.Shewouldpersonallyseethatwealwayshadenoughtoeat.
“Evenifyouhavetogetajob?”Iaskedher.
“Yes,”shesaidfirmly.“EvenifIhavetochar.”
Charswerethelowliestkindofcleaninglady.Someoftheoldergirlsonourlanebackhomewerechars.
“Why?”Iasked.
Shelookedatme,blank.
“Why?Youdidn’twantus.Youdon’tevenlikeus.”
Jamieheldperfectlystill.Susansippedhertea,thewayshealwaysdidwhenshewasstalling.“OfcourseIlikeyou,”shesaid.“Don’tIactasthoughIlikeyou?”
Ishrugged.
“Ineverwantedchildren,”shecontinued,“becauseyoucan’thavechildrenwithoutbeingmarried,andIneverwantedtobemarried.WhenIsharedthis
homewithBecky,thatwasthehappiestIhadeverbeen.Iwouldn’thavetradedthatforanything,notevenchildren.
“Iwassosadthedayyoucame—butitwasn’taboutyou.Iwasjustsad.Ididn’tthinkIcouldtakegoodcareofyou.Ididn’tthinkIcouldtakecareofanychildren.”
“Andyoudidn’twantto,”Isaid.“Especiallyus.”
Susansaid,“Ada,what’sthisaboutreally?Thebetteryouget,theworseyouseem.”
Ishruggedagain.Itwasscary,howangryIfeltinside.AtSusan,forbeingtemporary.AtMam,fornotcaringaboutus.AtFred,forwearingthescarfIhadknithimfromhiswife’swooleveryday,asthoughitwassomethingspecial,whenIcouldseemyselfhowI’ddroppedsomestitchesandpickedupothers,sothatthescarfwasfullofholes.
AtMaggie,forloaningmehercopyofAlice’sAdventuresThroughtheLookingGlasswhenItoldherhowmuchIlikedAliceinWonderland.Asthoughbooksweresomethingyoucouldjustgiveoutlikeyesterday’snewspapers.AsthoughIwouldbeabletositdownandreaditaseasilyasshewould.AsthoughtheletterIsentherwhenshewentbacktoschool,whichtookmehoursandwasfullofscratchesandmisspellings,wasanythingatalllikeherletterbacktome,writtenininkwiththecurvyhandwriting.
Atthewar,fortakingusawayfromMambeforesherealizedshelovedus.
Atmyself,forbeingsogladtogo.
“Ada.”Susanspokeslowlyandclearly.“Rightnowyouarehere.IamnotsendingyouorJamieanywhere.Youwillbothstayhere.Iwilltakecareofyou.Youwillhaveenoughtoeat.Youarelearningtoreadandwrite,andnextyearyouwillgotoschool.Wewillgetyourmother’spermission,andassoonaswedo,wewillgettheoperationtofixyourfoot.Allwillbewell.Relax.”
WhenshestartedtospeakIalmostwentaway,totheplaceinmyheadwhereIdidn’tfeelanything.ButSusantappedmyarm,keepingmewithher,andsheputherhandlightlyaroundmywristwhileshespoke.Ipulledmyhandaway,butIstayedwhereIcouldhearher.That’showIheardthewords“anoperationtofixyourfoot.”
Fixmyfoot?Whatonearthdidshemean?
ThreedayslaterIrodeButtertothetopofthehill.Ihaltedwherewecouldseethesea,darkandviolentandthrashing,wherethewindwhippedButter’smaneagainstmybadfoot,heldasitwasbythecrookofthesidesaddle.The
windblewthewispsofhairaroundmyfaceandmadetearscometomyeyes,andIcouldfeelitscoldnesseventhroughmywarmcoatandhatandmittens.
Noboatsanywhere.Nosignsofspies.Newtowersbuiltnearthebeach,andmorebarbedwire,andwhatlookedlikesoldiersmarchingalongtheocean’sedge.Oursoldiers—ifitweretheGermansinvading,thechurchbellswouldhaverung.
Irodeslowlydownthehill,throughthevillage.Thebutcherstandinginhisshopdoornoddedhisheadtome.OneofthewomenIpassedsmiled.Anotherwaved.Theysawmeridebyeveryday.IftheythoughtIshouldbekeptlockedup,atleasttheydidn’tsayso.Theydidn’tlookdisgustedbyme.
AthomeIuntackedButterandrubbedhimdry.Ifedhimandcombedouthistangledmane.Icleanedthesaddleandbridleandputthemneatlyaway.Itookmytime.
ThenIwentintothehouse,whereSusanwas,andasked,“Whatdoesthewordoperationmean?”
SusantookmebacktoseeDr.Grahamsohecouldexplain.Hedidnotreexaminemyfoot.Wesatinhisoffice,allthreeofus,andhetalked,andIlistened.
“Firstofall,”hesaid,“understandthatwecan’tproceedwithoutyourmother’spermission.Atthispointitwouldhavetobeconsideredelectivesurgery,andthat’swhywe’vebeenwaitingforherapproval.”HeglancedupatSusan.“Youhaven’tgottenit?”Sheshookherhead.
“Well,Ihavebeenreadingupontheprocedure,”Dr.Grahamsaid.“Itwouldn’tbemewhowoulddothesurgery,we’dhavetosendyoutoaspecialist.I’vewrittentoonethatIthinkwouldbebest.Hedoessaythatyouwon’teverhaveanormalfoot.Pleaseunderstandthat.Youcouldhaveiftreatmenthadstartedearlyenough,butyoucan’tnow.Youwon’tgetanormallyfunctioningankle.Butwecouldhopeforafootthatlookednormallypositioned,thatyoucouldwalkonwiththeplantarsurfacedown.”Helookedatmeandadded,“Thatmeansthebottom.Whatshouldbethebottomofyourfootwouldbetheparttouchingtheground.”
Ithoughtaboutthis.“Wouldithurt?”Iasked.
“Youwouldbesleepingduringthesurgery,”hesaid.“Wewouldgiveyouspecialmedicinetomakeyoustayasleep,andyouwouldn’tfeelanythingthen.Afterward,yes,itwouldprobablyhurt.You’dneedtostayinhospitalforquitealongtimetoo—probablyseveralmonths.Yourfootwouldbekeptinplastercasts.”
“WouldIbeabletowearshoes?”
Hiseyessmiled,eventhoughhismouthdidnot.“Yes,”hesaid.“Wheneverythingwashealed,youwould.”
Ithoughtofsomethingelse.“Whopaysforit?”Iasked.Itcostapileofmoneytostayinhospital.
Susanandthedoctorexchangedglances.“We’lldealwiththatproblemwhenwecometoit,”Dr.Grahamsaid.“I’msuretherearecharitieswecouldgetinvolved.”
SusanandIwalkedhomesilentlythroughtheblusteryfreezingwind.
“Whatareyouthinking?”shefinallyasked.
“HesaidifI’dstartedtreatmentearly,Icouldhavehadanormalfoot.”
“Yes,”Susansaid.“Mostbabiesbornwithclubfeethavethemfixedrightaway.”
“Allthewayfixed?”
Susanputherhandonmyshoulder.“Yes.Alltheway.”
Icouldhavealwayslivedoutsidetheoneroom.IcouldhavebeenlikeJamie,runningfast.Isaid,“IthoughtyoukeptwritingtoMambecauseyouwantedtogetridofus.”
Susansaid,“Nowonderyouwereangry.”
Ifeltfragile,notthewayIhadwhenI’dexplodedonChristmasEve,butthewayI’dfeltthenextmorning,whentheonlythingthatkeptmetogetherwasJamie’ssmile.Jamie’sandSusan’ssmiles.
AthomeIsatatthetablewhileSusanputthekettleon.“Doyouwanttogoride?”sheasked.Ishookmyhead.Idranktheteasheputinfrontofme.Ipulledmyplaitovermyshoulderandstudiedtheblueribbonattheendofit.ThenIpulledofftheslippershoeSusanhadmade,andpulledoffmystocking,andlookedatmyfoot.TheawkwardU-shapedankle.Thetinytoesthatcurledup,notdown.Theroughcalluseswheremyskinhadtornopenandthenhealed,overandoveragain.
Susansaid,“It’snotyourfault.”
Isaid,“Ialwaysthoughtitwas.IthoughtI’ddonesomethingwrong.”
“Iknow,”Susansaid.
“It’sdisgusting,”Isaid.
Susansaid,“Ineverthoughtso.”
Isearchedherfacetoseeifitwasalie.Shelookedatmesteadily.Shesaid,“Ifyoufeelveryangry,gooutsideandthrowsomething.”
Ididn’tfeelangry.Ifeltsad.SosadIcouldgetlostinthesadness.ButwhenIfinishedmytea,Igotoutpaperandapencil,andinmyverybesthandwriting,wrotealetter.
DearMam,itsaid,pleaseletthemfixme.
Iwaitedforareply.
Twiceadaythepostmandroppedlettersthroughtheslotonthefrontdoor.TwiceadayIwenttolook.SusansaiditwouldtakeatleasttwodaysforthelettertogettoLondon,andtwodaysforananswertocomebacktous,buttendayspassedandstilltherewasnothing.
“Ibettheyaren’tdeliveringlettersinLondon,”Jamiesaid.“Becauseofthewar.”IcouldtellbythelookonSusan’sfaceshedidn’tthinkthatwastrue.
OnthetwelfthdayaletterIrecognizedfellatmyfeet.Myown.Returntosenderwasscrawledacrossit.Nolongeratthisaddress.
“She’smoved,”Susansaid,turningtheunopenedenvelopeoverinherhands.“Shelivessomewhereelsenow.”
SusansaidperhapsMamhadanewjobandhadmovedtobeclosertoit.Shesaidperhapsthegovernmenthadrequisitionedourflat.ShesaidtherewereanumberofreasonsthatMammighthavemovedthatdidn’tmeanshe’dabandonedus,andshe,Susan,wouldmakeinquiriesthroughtheWVS.SomeoneinLondonwasboundtoknowwhereMamhadgone.
“Whathappenstous?”Jamieasked,wide-eyed.
“Youstaywithme,”Susansaid,“justlikeyoudonow.Yourmamknowswhereyouare.Sheknowsyou’resafe.”
“Whathappenswhenthewar’sover?”
Susantookadeepbreath.“Yourmamwillcomeandgetyou.”
“Whatifshedoesn’t?”Jamieinsisted.
“Don’tworry,”Susansaid.“I’llmakesuresomeonealwaystakescareofyou.”
“I’lltakecareofhim,”Isaid,suddenlyfurious.“Itookcareofhimbefore,notMam.”Ihated—Ihated—oh.EveninmyheadIstillcouldn’tsayIhatedMam.Evennow.IfIcouldgetmyfootfixed,maybeshe’dbedifferent.Maybeshe’dloveme.Maybeshewould.
“YoudidagoodjobtakingcareofJamie,”Susansaid.“Butitwasabigjob,andyoushouldn’thavehadtodoit.Sonowyoucanrelax.Icantakecareofyou.Youdon’thavetofightsohard.”
Shecouldn’ttakecareofme.Shetalkedaboutfixingmyfoot,butshecouldn’tdoit,notreally.Itwasalljustlies.AndIwantedmyfootfixedsobadly.Iwastiredofithurting.Iwantedtobelikeanormalperson.Iwantedtowalkwithoutcrutches,andIwantedtogotoschool,andIwantedtowearshoesonbothfeet.Ineverwantedtobelockedupagain.
Ihatedcrying,butIcouldn’thelpit.Isatonthesofaandsobbed.Susanheldmetoher.“Iknow,”shesaid.“I’msosorry.Iknow.”Shestrokedmyhair.“Ifitwasemergencysurgery,”shesaid,“ifyoubrokeyourlegorifyourlifewasindanger,Icouldgivepermissionforthat.Butthisisabigoperation,anditiselective,youcansurvivewithoutit.Ican’tgivepermission.I’veaskedtheWVSandI’veconsultedalawyer,andwithoutyourmam’spermissionwecan’thaveitdone.I’msosorry.We’llkeeplookingforher.We’llfindher.”
“Idon’twanttojustsurvive,”Isaid.
“Iknow,”Susansaid.“Soyou’llhavetofigureouthowtomakethathappen,withoutfixingyourfoot.
“It’shard,”shesaid,“butthat’sthetruth.”
Thewinterturnedfierce.SnowdriftedoverthefieldsandmadeitimpossibleforButtertoclimbourhill.EventheridetoFred’swassowretchedlycoldIdreadedit.Iwenteverydaynow,forafternoonfeed,becausethewinterworkwastoomuchforFred.Hedidn’twatchmeride.Itwasfartoocoldforthat.IputButterinastallanddidchoreswithFredasfastaspossible,andthenrodehome.Waterfrozeinthetroughs.Thehorsesatemountainsofhay.
“It’sgettingtobetoomuchforyou,”Susansaid,whenIcamehomewithmytoesandfingersnumb,shiveringsohardIcouldn’tstop.“IfFredcan’tmanage,LadyThortonwillhavetohiresomeonetohelphim,warornowar.”
“It’snottoomuchforme,”Isaid.“Ipromise.”
SusaninsistedIwouldattendthevillageschoolnextyear.Sheborrowedallsortsofbooksfromthetownlibraryandmademereadthem.IfIcouldn’treadaword,Iwassupposedtoaskherwhatitmeant.ThemoreIread,thelessIhadtoask.Shestartedmeonmathandhistorytoo.
Ourdayswentlikethis.Susanwokeusinthedarkandcold.Wewashedupanddressedasquicklyaswecould.Downstairs,JamietendedthefireinthelivingroomwhileSusanworkedtherange.IwentouttogiveButterhay.AfterbreakfastJamiewashedthedishesbyhimselfwhileSusanandItooktheblackoutsdown.Thenwehadhousework,reading,andsewing.JamieplayedwithBovrilontherug.Lunch,schoolforJamie,shoppingforSusan,
mehelpingFred.Morechores,thendinner.Susanwouldreadoutloudwhileshemassagedmybadfoot,andthenwewenttosleepunderthemountainofblanketsSusanhadpiledonourbed.
Susanlookedhorrifiedwhenthefirstchilblainsappearedonmybadfoot.Ishrugged.“Ialwaysgetthem,”Isaid.SheshookherheadatmeandconsultedFred.Hefoundapieceofstoutleathermeantfortackrepair,andtogetherheandSusandesignedasortofboot.Isteppedmybadfootintoitandbuttonedituptheside.Itwasloose,soIcouldwearextrastockings,andFredoiledituntilitstayeddryeveninwetmushysnow.Thatkeptthechilblainsfromgettingworse.Theydidn’theal,however,whichdistressedSusan.
“Idon’tknowwhy,”Isaid.“They’renotbad.”
“Theymusthurt,”shesaid.Ishrugged.Theydid,andtheitchingsometimeskeptmeawakenights,butIcouldn’tdoanythingaboutit.
“Myfootalwayshurts,”Isaid.“Ialwaysgetchilblainsinwinter.”UsuallyIgotthemonmyhandsaswell.
“Nextwinter,”Susansaid,“we’llstopthembeforetheygetstarted.Theremustbesomeway.”
Ilookedather.“WillIbeherenextwinter?”
Shesaid,“It’sstartingtolookthatway.Thewar’snotgoinganywhere.”Sheboughtgoosegreaseinthevillageandrubbeditonmysores.
Stephen’scolonelinvitedmeforteaagainandthistimeIwent.ThewinterwassobleakIwasgladtohavesomethingdifferenttodo,and,anyway,Iwasn’tasafraidofthingsasIhadbeen.
Thecolonelworeseveralcardiganslayeredoverhiswaistcoat,eventhoughhisparlorwaswarm.Hepresidedverygrandlyoverateatablesetwithsconesandsmallhamsandwiches.“Mydear,”hesaidhappily,“we’vesavedupourbutterrationforyou.”
Theyhad.Theyhadawholelittledishofbutteralongwithjamforthescones.“Thankyou,”Isaid.
“Takeplenty,”heurged.
Itookatinysliver.
“Morethanthat,”heordered,asthoughhecouldseeme.
Ilaughed.Stephensaid,“She’sgotloads,don’tworry,”andafterthatitwaseasytorelaxandeat.
Stephensaidtherewasanewposterupbythetrainstation.ItshowedHitlerlisteningtosomeBritishpeople’sconversation.“‘Carelesstalkcostslives,’”Stephenquoted.“That’swhatitsaysonthenewsreels.”
SusanhadtakenustoseethefilmTheWizardofOz,butshe’dletmestayinthelobbyduringthenewsreel.Isaid,“Jamieworriesaboutspies,butIdon’tknowifthey’rereallyreal.Thegovernment’ssofulloftalk.Howmanyspiesdoyouthinkthereare?”
“Hundreds!”thecolonelsaid.“They’reeverywhere!ItwasspiesthatsunktheRoyalOak!HowelsecouldasubmarinehavegottenintoScapaFlow?”
Iknewthatwaswhatpeoplesaid.“Yes,but—”
“Youthinkwedon’thavespiesrightnowinoccupiedFrance,inGermanyitself?Ofcoursewedo!Standstoreasonthey’dhavesentspieshere.”
ItoldhimhowIalwayslookedoutfromthetopofthehill,fromwhereIcouldseesuchalongway.
Henodded.“Youkeepalookouteverywhere,”hesaid.“ItellStephen,payattentiontoeverything.Youneverknow.OnewordinGerman,onefalsemove—”
Stephen,grinning,helpedmetoanotherscone.Igrinnedback.Postersornewsreelsorspiesnotwithstanding,itwashardtositinawarmparlorwithsnowfallingoutside,andreallybelieveinthewar.
ButbytheendofJanuary,GermanU-boatshadsunkfifty-sixshipsinthatmonthalone.MostwerecargoshipstryingtobringfoodandsuppliestoEngland.
InFebruary,theGermanssunkanotherfifty-one.Theshopslookedsparse,coalsuppliesranlow,andtheweatherboredownonuslikeacoldheavyweight.Wewenttobedearlierandsleptlaterinthemornings,justtoavoidtheblackmisery,until,finally,thedaysbegantobrighten.
MaggiecamehomebrieflyatEaster.ShewasshockedbyhowmuchworkIwasdoing,andalsobythestatethestablesandhousewerein.Herhouse,notSusan’s.“I’vetoldMumwe’vegottoshutupmostoftherooms,”shesaid.I’dlearnedthatMaggiewastwelveyearsold.Topofherforminhercurrentschool,thoughshe’dmovetoadifferentschoolforoldergirlsnextyear.“Tryingtokeeponaswealwayshavewithoutenoughstaffispointless.AndGrimesmusthavehelp,orhe’lldropoverdead.It’snotthatyou’renotwonderful,”sheadded,cuttingoffmyprotests,“butit’sridiculous;you’lldropdeadtoo.She’sstillpayingagardener.HecanhelpGrimes,andwe’llturntheparkintocrops.We’resupposedtobedoingthatanyhow.”
Inodded.Susanhadhiredthevicar’sgangofboystodigupmostofwhatwasleftofourbackgarden,andcutoutthebushesinthefront.WewereplanningabigVictoryGarden,potatoesandturnipsandcarrots,Brusselssproutsandpeas.Susanhadalreadyplantedlettuceseedsonthedirtcoveringtheroofofourshelter.Jamiewasagitatingforchickens,sinceeggsweregettingscarce.
“Mostoftheevacueesintownaregone,”Maggieadded.“Mumsaidso.Itmakesherfeelshehasn’tdoneherjobproperly.Doyouthinkyou’llleave?”
Ishookmyhead.“Ourmumthinkswe’resaferhere.”I’dwrittentoMaggieseveraltimesoverthewinter,butnotoncehadIbeenabletotellheraboutMam’sdisappearance.Ididn’twantMaggietoseemeasrubbish,easytothrowaway.“Friday’smybirthdayparty,”Iadded.“Willyoucometotea?We’regoingtopretendI’mturningeleven.”
Maggiealreadyknewaboutmyrealbirthdayandmypretendbirthday,butshestilllookedstartled.“Ithoughtyouwereelevenalready,”shesaid.“Youseemolderthanten,eventhoughyou’resmall.”
Thispleasedme.“Really?MaybeyoushouldtellSusan.MaybeweshouldpretendI’mtwelve.”
Maggieignoredthis.“I’llbegladtocometotheparty.Home’sdreadful,youcan’timagine.I’veneverlikedschool,butnowhome’sworse.Mum’sinafunkallthetime.”
EverytimeIsawLadyThortonsheseemedinconstantmotion,makinglists,chivvyingvolunteers,commandingtheWVS.WhenIsaidso,Maggiegrimaced.
“Yes,that’sherpublicface.Inprivateshesortofslumps,andeverythingabouthergoesslowanddull.Ididn’tknowshe’dgottenlikethis.Whenshewritesmeletterstheycomefromherpublicside.”
Jonathanhadfinishedhispilot’straining,Maggiesaid.HehadbeensenttoStratfordRAFbase,whichwasnorthofLondonsomewhere.“Mumcan’tgetpastit,”shesaid.“HerbrothersdiedinWorldWarI.Allthreeofthem.Pilots.”
Ishuddered.“MaybeJonathanshouldhavegoneintoinfantry.”
“That’swhatDadsaid,butJonathan’slikemyuncleswere,deadkeenonflying.Healwayswantedto,evenbeforethewar.Mumtoldhimsheabsolutelyforbadeit,buthesignedupanyway.Hewastwenty–one,soshecouldn’tstophim.
“Ifhedies,Mumwilldietoo,”Maggiesaid.“ShehadtwootherboysafterJonathan,beforeme.Allofthem,allthree,werenamedaftermydeaduncles,andthentheothertwodiedoftyphoidwhentheywereverysmall.Thencameme,agirl,thereforeuseless.Mum’sbeenafraidofthiswarsincethedayJonathanwasborn.”
“I’llkeepaneyeonher,”Isaid.“I’llwriteyouifyourmam—yourmum—getsworse.IfIcantellshe’sworse.”
Maggienoddedgratefully.“Youdon’tknowwhatit’slike,beingawayfromhomeandbeingsoafraid.”Thenshegavemeoneofourlongseriouslooks.“Ormaybeyoudo.”
“It’snotreallymybirthday,”Isaid,onthemorningofmyCelebrationTea.
“No,”Susanagreed.
“I’mnotreallyelevenyet.OrmaybeI’malreadyeleven.”IfIthoughtaboutit,thismademeangry,soImostlydidn’tthinkaboutit.
“Thosearethetwochoices,”Susanagreed.
“Icouldbefourteen.”
“Doubtit,”Susanreplied.“You’dprobablyhaveabitofabustifyouwere.”
ThismadeJamiesnortmilkuphisnose.Ilaughedtoo,andthenIstartedtoenjoytheday.
Susanhadputaclothonthekitchentable,andwildflowersJamiepickedinavaseinthecenter.Shehadsavedupenoughsugarfromourrationstomakealittlecake.Wehadmeatpastesandwiches,cutverythin,andfreshradishes,
andtinyspoonfulsofcustardsauceovertheslicesofcake.SusanmademeanewdressfromonethathadbeenBecky’s.Brightblue,likethespringtimesky.ShegavemeabookcalledTheWindintheWillows.Itwasanoldbook,thecoverfadedandworn.WhenIopeneditIsawherspideryhandwritingontheflyleaf:SusanSmith.Andthenbeneaththat,infresherink,ToAdawithlove.April5,1940.
Withlove.
“It’soneofmyoldbooks,”Susansaid,clearingherthroat.“I’msorry,Icouldn’tfindafreshcopyintheshops.”
Ilookedup.“I’dratherhavethisone,”Isaid.
Maggiegavemealittlecarvedwoodenpony.“It’ssilly,itcamefromournursery,”shesaid,“butIsawittheotherday,andIthoughtitlookedlikeButter.”
ItdidlooklikeButter—Butterinsummer,sleekandtrottingthroughthegrassyfields.
ThatnightIputmynewbookontheshelfSusanhadclearedforusinourbedroom.IputtheponyonthewindowsillsoIcouldseehimfromthebed.Ihungmydressinthewardrobenexttomyotherclothes.
Ihadsomuch.Ifeltsosad.
Earlythenextweek,HitlerinvadedNorwayandDenmark.ItfeltlikeEnglandhadlostabattle,eventhoughI’dneversomuchasheardofNorwayorDenmarkbefore.Asspringcontinued,GermanytookoverHollandandBelgiumaswell.WinstonChurchillbecameEngland’snewprimeminister.Thewar,whichhadbeguntofeellikememoriesofourflatinLondon,hazyandunreal,suddenlycameintosharperfocus.SusanhadalwayslistenedtothenewsontheradioeacheveningbutnowJamieandIpaidcloseattentiontoo.Therestillweren’tbombs,inLondonoranywhereelse,buttheGermansweremuchnearertoEnglandthantheyhadbeen.Everyonethoughtwewouldbeinvadednext.Theairforcebuiltpillboxesaroundourairfield,todefendit.
Thegovernmentgaveussevenrules:
1)Donotwastefood.
2)Donottalktostrangers.
3)Keepallinformationtoyourself.
4)Alwayslistentogovernmentinstructionsandcarrythemout.
5)Reportanythingsuspicioustothepolice.
6)Donotspreadrumors.
7)Lockawayanythingthatmighthelptheenemyifweareinvaded.
“Likewhat?”Jamieasked.“Guns?”
“Yes,guns,”Susansaid.“LadyThorton,forexample—herhusbandhasawholeroomfulofgunsforhuntinggamebirds.She’llneedtohidethoseaway.
“Wehaven’tgotanythingheretheenemywouldwant,”Susancontinued.“Wedon’thaveanythingdangerousorvaluable.
“Youaren’ttoworry,”shesaid.“EveniftheGermansdoinvade,theywon’thurtchildren.Theydidn’thurtthechildreninNorwayorHolland.”
Somehowthisdidn’tmakeusfeelbetteratall.
TherumorinthevillagewasthatHollandhadbeenfullofGermanspies,sentinbeforetheinvasiontohelpitgosmoothly.Thespieswerecalled“fifthcolumnists.”Ididn’tknowwhy.Freshposterswentuponthewallbythestation,remindingusthatEnglandtoomightbefullofspies.“Looselipssinkships,”theposterssaid.
Twenty-sixshipshadbeensunkinMarch.TeninApril.ItwasfewershipsthanearlierbecausenowfewershipsweretryingtogetthroughtheGermanblockade.
Jamiestartedwettingthebedagain.Susanmarchedhimovertotheairfieldtotalktosomeofthesoldiers,thinkingtheywouldreassurehim.Instead,thementoldJamiethatofcoursetherewerespiesinEngland.Theytoldhimthatchildrenwereoftenbetterthanadultsatnoticingthingsandthathe,Jamie,neededtoactlikeasoldierandkeepagoodlookout.Theytoldhimtoreportbackatonceifhediscoveredanythingunusual.
Ididn’tthinkSusanexpectedtheRAFtoturnJamieintoasnoop,but,anyway,hequitwettingthebed.
Thegovernmentaskedallthemenwhoweren’talreadyinthearmytobecomeLocalDefenceVolunteers.Stephen’scolonelwasangrythathecouldn’tjoin.“Amanshouldn’tbeuselessatatimelikethis,”hefumed.
“It’snotyourfaultyoucan’tsee,”Itoldhim.We’drunintothematthelibrary.Susanwaspickingoutmorebooksforme,andStephenwaslookingforthingstoreadtothecolonel.
“Whatdifferencedoesthatmake?”hesaid.“Istillhatefeelinghelpless.Andtheboytriedtojoinup,andtheywouldn’thavehimeither.”
IlookedatStepheninalarm.“Howoldareyou?”Iasked.
“Thirteen,”hesaid.Hedroppedhisvoicetoawhisper.“Ididn’treallytrytojoin,IjusttoldhimIdid.Sohewouldn’tbedisappointedinme.It’snearlyafull-timejobtakingcareofhim.WhodoeshethinkwouldqueueforthegroceriesifIhadtogooffanddrill?”
TheLocalDefencedrilledwithbroomsticksbecausetheydidn’thaverifles.StephensaidthecolonelhaddonatedhisgunsfromwhenhefoughttheBoerWar.Theywerefiftyyearsoldandfullofrust.“Useless,”Stephensaid.“Butitmadehimfeelbetter.”
Wehadtoqueueforgrocerieseverydaynow.Meatwasonrationandalotofotherthingswerehardtofind.Onionsweresoscarcetheymightaswellhavebeensolidgold.NoonehadrealizedthatallEngland’sonionswereimporteduntiltheycouldn’tbeimportedanymore,andonionstookalongtimetogrowfromseed.
InthemiddleofMay,HitlerinvadedFrance.TheBritishArmyhadover370,000soldiersstationedthere.Theyfought,andtheFrenchfought,buttheGermanspushedthembackandback.ThencameJune,andDunkirk.Later,peoplecalleditamiracle,butinourvillageitfeltlikeadisaster.
Wewoketoaviciouspoundingonthedoor.Jamieclutchedme.“Invasion?”hewhispered.
Myheartthumpedinmyears.Shouldwehide?IwasreadytopushJamieunderthebedwhenIheardLadyThortonyellfromdownstairs,“Susan!Getup,weneedyou!Weneedeveryone!”
WhileSusanflungonherWVSuniform,Iclambereddownthestairs.LadyThortonstoodintheopendoorway,breathinghardasthoughshe’dbeenrunningeventhoughherautomobilewaswaitinginthedrive.“What’shappened?”Iasked.
“Ashipjustdockedinthevillage,”LadyThortonsaid.“Fullofsoldiers.FromDunkirk.Andtheywerestrafedontheirwayacrossthechannel.”Sheyelledupthestairs.“Susan!”
“Coming!”Susanhustleddown,stuffingherhairbeneathherWVScap.Shepausedinthedoorwayandputherhandonmycheek.“You’llbeokay?”sheasked.“Bothofyou?”
“Yes,”Isaid.IputmyarmaroundJamieandwewatchedLadyThortonreversehercarinawhirlofdust.“It’snotaninvasion,”Isaid.
Jamielookedupatme.“Strafed,”hesaid.
Strafedmeantshotatfromabove,byanairplane.Itookadeepbreath.“Yes,”Isaid.
We’dlistenedwithdreadtotheradiothenightbefore.TheBritishArmyhadretreatedsofarthatitwasnowtrappedagainsttheocean,nearaFrenchportcalledDunkirk.ThewaterwassoshallownearthebeachtherethattheRoyalNavy,tryingtorescuethesoldiers,couldn’tbringbigshipsclose.Themanontheradiohadaskedanyonewithasmallboat,onethatcouldgoclosetoshore,toloanittothenavyforgettingthemenaway.
I’dseenourvillage’sfishingboats.Theycouldmaybecarryadozenmen.Itriedtoimagine370,000menclimbingontoboatsadozenatatime.
Itcouldn’thappen.Therewouldneverbeenoughboats.IftheGermanswerestrafingthem,theywouldalldie.
“I’llmakebreakfast,”Isaid,puttingonacheerfulfaceforJamie’ssake.
“I’mnothungry,”hesaid.
“I’llmakesausages.”Thisbroughtasmile.
Thesausagestastedodd.Warsausages.Mostlyoatmeal,Ithoughtbutdidn’tsay.Iwonderedwhatsortofmeatwasactuallyinthem.
Wedidthedishesandgotdressed.Wecouldhearplanestakingofffromtheairfield,oneafteranother.Dozensofplanes.Wewentoutsidetowatchthem.Theyflewouttowardtheoceananddidn’tcomeback.
“Iwanttogotalktothepilots,”Jamiesaid.
“Nottoday,”Itoldhim.“They’rebusy.”
Henodded.“They’restrafingtheGermans.”
Westoodwatchingtheplanesforalittlewhile.Iitchedtobeuseful,likeSusan.IknewIcoulddosomething.
Jamielookedatmepiteously.“Wecan’tjuststayhere,”hesaid.
“No.”SuddenlyIknewwhatwecoulddo.“You’regoingtogotoFred’s,”Isaid.“You’llhelphiminmyplace.I’mgoingtothevillage.”
Jamiestartedtoprotest,butIcuthimoff.“I’majuniorWVSmember,”Isaid,makingituponthespot.“LadyThortonexpectsmetodomyduty,likeasoldier.Iexpectyoutodoyours.”
Jamie’seyeswidened.Henodded.
“Andyou’llstaywithFreduntilSusanorIcomeforyou,”Isaid.“He’stofeedyou,andifwedon’tcometonightyou’retosleepthere.TellhimIsaidso.”
Jamienodded.“CanItakeButter?”
“Ofcourse.”HerodeButteraroundthefieldoftenenough.Ihelpedhimsaddleandbridlethepony.
AfterthatIputonmysky-bluedress.Iplaitedmyownhair.IstuffedapillowcasefulloftheclothscrapsSusanwassupposedtobesewingintobandages,andItookmycrutchesandsetofffortown.
Isawthenewsreelslater.Theydidn’tupsetme,notwhenI’dalreadyhelpedDunkirksoldiersfirsthand.Butthosenewsreelsshowedalie.Inthem,thesoldiersevacuatingDunkirklookedtired,buthappy.Undertheirtinhatstheirfacesweredirty,buttheireyesshonebright.Theygrinnedandwavedandgavethumbs-upstothecamera.StalwartBritishfighters,heroicandgratefultobehome.
Maybethereweresoldierslikethatsomewhere.Theonesinourvillagewereshot,deadordying;othersweresickfromthelongterribleretreat,the
dayswithoutfoodorwater.
Themenonthatfirstshipwhocouldwalkhadcarriedtheirseverelyinjuredcomradesintothetownhall,theplacewhereI’dstoodonevacuationday,waitingforsomeonetochooseme.
WhenIgottotownIsawawomaninaWVSuniformgoinsidethehall.Ifollowed,pushingopenthedoor.
Igagged.Thesmellofbloodhungacrosstheroomlikeaheavyironfog,butworsethanthat—peopledon’ttellyou,theydon’twriteaboutitandtheydon’tputitinthenewsreels—whenmenarehorriblyinjured,theylosecontroloftheirbowels.Theymessthemselvesthewaybabiesdo.Thestenchmademyeyeswaterandmystomachchurn.
Thewholeroomwasfilledwithwoundedmenonstretchers.IsawDr.GrahamworkingamongarmymedicsandtheWVS.IsawLadyThorton,herfacestreakedwithblood.IsawSusan,wholookedupandsawme.“Getoutofhere,”shebarked.
AlreadyIcouldseewhatsomeofthewomenweredoing—peelingawaythesoldiers’pantsandcleaningtheirnakedbacksides.Theywouldn’twantmehelpingwiththat.InoddedtoSusanandslippedbackoutside.
Thestreetwasfullofless-injuredmen.Townspeopledirectedthemintothepub,thelibrary,anybuildingwithopenspace.Menstumbled,collapsed,cried.“Miss,”saidone,lookingupatme.Hesatonthecurbwithablood-soakedlegheldstiffinfrontofhim.“Water?”
Iwentintothepub.Itwasfullofsoldiersandpeoplefromthevillage.Ifanyonenoticedme,theydidn’tcare.Itossedmycrutchesandpillowcasebehindthebar,foundapitcherandfilledit,grabbedamug,limpedtothestreet,andgavethewatertothesoldier.Hedrankuntilthepitcherwasempty.
Iwentbackandforth,carryingwater.Eventuallythepublican’sdaughter,whoseemedaboutmyage,cameoutwithaheavybucket.“Youstandherewiththemug,”shesaid.“I’llbringbucketsbackandforth.”
Soldiersclusteredaroundme,reeking,stinking,filthy,theiruniformscrustedwithsweatandblood.Theydrankanddrank.Crackedlips,hauntedeyes.Anotherbucketofwater,andanother.Thepublican’sdaughterbroughtmoremugs,whichIdippedintothebucketsandpassedaround.Whentheflowofmenwhocouldstillwalkceased—Ilaterlearnedthatiftheycould,theywentontothetrainstation,andthentoanarmybasenorthofus—Iwentintothepub,andtriedtohelpthesoldiersthere.Itwasthesamewiththemasinthehall:blood,filth,exhaustion.Daisy—thatwasthepublican’sdaughter’sname—andIwentdowntherowsgivingoutdrinks,waterfirstandeventually
tea.Backandforth,backandforthdowntherows.
Itseemedimpossiblethatallthesemencouldcomefromoneship,evenifithadbeenabigship.WhenIsaidsotoDaisy,anothervillagercutin,“We’reonthethirdorfourthshipbynow.They’reunloadingwherevertheycandock,andgoingbackformore.”
SometimeafterdarkDaisy’smotherinsistedwerestinthekitchen.Shesatusatalongtableandpushedplatesoffoodinfrontofus.“Eat,”shecommanded.
Daisysatunmoving.IwastryingtowillmyselftopickupaforkwhenIsawsomethingsplashontoDaisy’splate.Ilookedup.TearsstreameddownDaisy’sface.
“Noneofthat,”Daisy’smothersaid.“Won’thelpany.”
“Butthey’redying,”Daisysaid.
“No,they’renot.Theylookawful,butmencanlookmuchworseandstilllive.You’dbesurprised.Eatandrest,orI’llsendyoubothtobed.”
Weate.“You’veruinedyourdress,”Daisysaid.
Ilookeddown.Mysky-bluedresswascoveredwithdarksmudgesandsmearsofgrime.“It’smyfavorite,”Isaid.
Daisynodded.“It’spretty.”
Whenwe’drestedwewentbackoutandmadeanotherroundoftea.
Onesoldierlookedupatme,hiseyesverybright.“Miss?”hesaid.“Couldyoudomeafavor,andwritealetterforme?Myhandsfeelalittlenumb.”
“Daisywill,”Isaid.Myhandwritingwasstillsoslowandclumsy.IwenttofetchDaisy,andsomepaperandapen.Wecamebackandtheman’seyeswereclosed.
Hewasdead.
Hedied,rightthereonthefloorofthepub.Hedidn’tevenlookwounded—hewasn’tbleeding.Oneoftheothersoldiersundidhistunic,searchingforaheartbeat,andtherewasn’tanybloodatall.Buthewasdead.Thesoldiersfoundablanketandpulleditoverhishead.
Icouldn’tbreathe.Dead,whenhe’djustbeentalkingtome.Dead,whenhe’dwantedtowritealetter.Awaveofgriefwashedoverme.Istartedtogoawayinmyhead,tosomewheresafe,toButterorJamieorwherever,butDaisygrabbedmyhandandsqueezedithard,andIcameback.
“It’sreallyawarnow,”Daisywhispered.Inodded.Oneofthesoldiers
calledfortea.DaisyandIbroughtittohim.
MostoftheshipsthatdockedatourvillagetheweekoftheDunkirkevacuationsweren’tasbadoffasthefirstfew,butallofthemcontainedatleastsomebadlyinjuredmen.Theshipsarrivedatallhours.Wewentfromcrisistocrisis;thehallneveremptied.TheSpitfiresfromourairfieldtookoffandlandedinwaves,constantly,dayandnight,flyingouttoprotectthetroopshipsasmuchaspossible.Meanwhiletheentirevillagefedandtendedthesoldiers.
Beforemidnightonthatfirstday,Susanfoundmeatthepub.Daisy’smothertoldherwhatwe’dbeendoing.Reluctantly,Susanallowedmetostayinthevillage.Daisy’smothersaidIcouldsleepatthepub,withthem;theWVSwassleepinginshiftsintheirheadquartersdownthestreet.
“You’realittlegirl,”Susansaid.“Youshouldn’thavetoseeallthis.”
“I’moldenough.I’mhelping.”Iwantedtotellheraboutthedeadsoldier,butIwasafraidshe’dmakemeleave.
Shegavemealonglook.“Yes,”shesaid.“Youare.”
ThenextmorningSusanusedthepub’stelephonetocallLadyThorton’shouseandspeaktoFredandJamie.Andthenwecarriedon.WheneverDaisyorIgrewtooexhaustedtocontinue,wecreptbacktothekitchenandsleptonthebenchbythedoor.Whenwewoke,wewentbacktowork.Everyonedid.ItwasluckyJamiewassafewithFred.Luckywe’dputBovriloutside,wherehecouldhunt.SusanandIstayedwiththesoldiers.Itwasourturntofightthewar.
Intheend,330,000Britishsoldiersweresaved.WinstonChurchillcalleditEngland’s“finesthour.”Itwashard,listeningtohimontheradio,safelyhomewithJamieonceagain,tothinkthattherehadbeenanythingfineabouttheshiploadsofdesperateanddyingmen.Butatthesametime,Ifeltdifferent.TherewasaBeforeDunkirkversionofmeandanAfterDunkirkversion.TheAfterDunkirkversionwasstronger,lessafraid.Ithadbeenawful,butIhadn’tquit.Ihadpersisted.InbattleIhadwon.
Severaldayslater,whenSusanandIwentintothevillage,IstoppedatthepubtosayhellotoDaisy.“Oh,dearie,”saidhermother,pullingmeagainstherlargebosomandkissingthetopofmyhead.“I’vesentheraway,”shesaid.ToSusansheadded,“You’dbettersendyourstoo.”
Thevillagewasevacuatingitsownchildren.
Acrossthechannel,Hitler’sarmywaited,lessthanthirtymilesaway.HeinvadedtheChannelIslands,GuernseyandJersey,whichbelongedtoEngland.
TheChannelIslandssurrendered.
Kent,whichwasthepartofEnglandwherewewere,wastheclosestbittotheGermanArmyinFrance.WhenHitlerinvaded,hewouldlandinKent.
SusansaidnothingtoDaisy’smother,butlatertoldJamieandmenottoworry.Ifourmotherwantedustogosomewhereelse,thatwasonething,butuntilSusanheardfromourmother,wewerestayingput.
AfewdayslaterLadyThortoncametotrytomakeJamieandmego.Alltheotherevacueesandnearlyallthevillagechildrenwereleaving.TheWVS,LadyThortonsaid,wouldfindahomeforussomewheresafe.
“Theirmotherwon’tknowwheretheyare,”Susanprotested.
“Ofcourseshewill,”LadyThortonsaid.“I’llseethatyougettheirnewaddress,andwhenevershecontactsyou,youcanpassiton.”
Susanhesitated.“I’mnotsure.”
LadyThorton’snosenarrowedthewayitdidwhenshewasangry.“Therewillbeaninvasion,”shesaid,inatightlyclippedtone.“Germansoldiersinourstreets,inourhomes.Warinourstreets,quitepossibly.Thechildrenshouldbeasfarawayaswecansendthem.Margaretisn’tcominghomethissummer.She’sgoingstraighttohernewschool.”
Ifeltapangofregret.I’dbeenexpectingtoseeMaggiesoon.
LadyThortonsaid,“Youmustsendthemaway.”
Beneaththeregretcameabiggerwaveofemotion,coilingup,risinginmygut.Ididn’tknowwhatitwas.Ididn’tknowwhatitmeant.IlookedoutthewindowandfranticallytriedtothinkofButter.
“...thingsworsethanbombs,”Susanwassaying.
LadyThortonshookherhead.“Warisnotimeforsentiment.”
“Isitsentiment?”Susanasked.Hervoicesoundedfarawaybehindthehumminginmyears.Susanputahandonmyshoulder.“Lookatthem,”Susansaid.“LookatAda.Ifshegetsputwiththewrongpersonshe’llgorightbacktowhereshewas.”
Ishookmyhead,strugglingtostaywiththem,tohearthemabovemyincreasingpanic.ButLadyThortondidn’treply.WhenIriskedaglanceathershewasstaringatSusanwithanexpressionIcouldn’tread.
“Sheisn’teasy,”Susansaid,“butI’llfightforher.Idofightforher.Someonehasto.”
AtlastLadyThortonspoke.“Isee,”shesaidquietly.“I’mnotsureyou’recorrect,butIseewhatyou’resaying.Buttheboy—”
“No,”Susansaid.“Separatingthemwouldkillthemboth.”
WhenLadyThortonhadleft,SusansatJamieandmedownbesideheronthesofa.Shesaid,“Listen.Iamnotsendingyouaway.”
Shetalkedalongtimeafterthat.Iheardnothingbeyondthewords“notsendingyouaway.”
Thewaveinsidemeflattenedout.Icouldbreatheagain.
“Howdoyoufeelaboutit?”Susanaskedme.
HowdidIfeel?Ihadnoidea.Ididn’tknowthewordstoexplain.IwaschokingandnowIcanbreathe.
Susanwaitedformetosaysomething.Istillfeltdizzy,overwhelmed.Iswallowed.“IguessI’dratherstayhere,”Isaid.
“Good,”Susansaid,“becauseI’mnotgivingyouachoice.”
Susanhadbeenrightthatallthegreenleavesandgrasscamebackinsummertime.Theweatherwasglorious.Butter’spasturereachedhisknees,andthevegetablesinourVictoryGardenthrived.
FredfoundanoldbicycleinoneoftheshedsatThortonHouseandfixeditupforJamietoride.Schoolhadclosedforgood,sincemostofthechildrenweregone,soJamiecamewithmeeverydaytohelpFred.Theformergardenerhadproveduselessaroundhorses,frightenedofthemandthereforeinclinedtosmackthemaround.He’dbeencalledupanyhow;Fredwasaloneagain.LadyThortonhadsoldtwohorses,andputdownthreemorewhowere
pastbeingridden,butthatstillleftalotofworktodo.Thebestpastureshadbeentakenoverforcrops.ThegovernmentsentLandGirlstotaketheplaceoftheenlistedmalefarmworkers.Theymovedintotheoldstableboys’apartments,buttheyonlyhelpedwiththefarmingontheestate,notthehorses.“Horsesaren’timportantthesedays,”saidFred.
Jamiewasfinallypermanentlyandcompletelybannedfromtheairfield.Theyweretoobusytohavehimaround.Planestookoffinbunchesalldayandallnight.Wecouldseethemhighinthesky,tinyspeckspatrollingthechannel.Watching,waiting,fortheinvasionthatwouldcome.
Istruggledtofallasleepinthelong,brightsummernights.JamieandBovrilsnoredinunison,loudly.Onenight,whenthenoisegrewtoomuchtobear,Icreptdownstairstotheslightlydarkerlivingroom.Susansatonthesofa,herlegscurledbeneathher,staringintonothing.Itwasnotthedeepsadstaringfromtheyearbefore.“Can’tsleep?”sheaskedwhenshesawme.
Ishookmyhead.Susanpattedthesofabesideher.Iwalkedacrosstheroomandstoodinfrontofher,mygoodfootandthecrutchtipsdeepintheplushrug,thetoesofmybadfootbarelybrushingtheground.
“EveryonestillthinksIshouldsendyouaway,”Susansaid.
Inodded.LadyThortonsaidsooften.IwenttoSusan’sWVSmeetingssometimes,tohelpsew,andLadyThortonmadeanoiseinthebackofherthroateverytimeshesawme.
“Partofmedoesagree,”Susancontinued.“Iknowtheymeanwell.ButIalsounderstandnowwhysomeofthemothersfromLondontooktheirevacuatedchildrenbacksosoon.Somethingsyou’vegottofaceasafamily.”
HitlerwasinParis.HecouldbeinLondonnextweek.
“Forthelongesttime,”Susanwenton,“IthoughtIwasneglectingyou.Ididn’ttakecareofyouthewaymymothertookcareofmybrothersandme.Mymotherwatchedmeallthetime.Shealwayskeptmeneatlydressed.Sheironedmyshoelaces.ShewouldneverhaveletyourunwildthewayIhave.
“Butnow,whenIlookatyou,IthinkIdidn’tdosobadly.Ithinkyouwouldn’thavelikedbeingraisedthewaymymotherraisedme.Whatdoyouthink,Ada?”
Isatdownonthesofa.“Ineverknow,”Isaid.“WhenI’mnotthinking,everything’sclearinmyhead,butassoonasItrytolookatitIgetconfused.”Ileanedagainstthebackofthesofa.
“Iunderstand,”Susansaid.“SometimesIfeellikethattoo.”
Ileanedmyheadagainsther,thetiniestbit.Shedidn’tmove.Ileaneda
littlebitmore.Sheputherarmaroundmyshoulders,sothatIwasnestledagainsther.AsIdriftedintosleepIthoughtIfeltherlipsbrushthetopofmyhead.
ThefirstairraidwasworsethanChristmasEve.
ItcamethesecondweekofJuly.Ithadbeenahotday,sowehadkeptthewindowswideopenandtheblackoutdown.ForonceI’dfallenintoasound,dreamlesssleep.
Whoop-WHOOP!Whoop—WHOOP!Whoop-WHOOP!Thesirensattheairfieldwailed,louderandlouder.You’dhavethoughtonewasinourbedroom.Jamiejumpedup,scramblingtokeepholdofBovril,whothrashedandscratchedinanefforttogetfree.Igrabbedmycrutches.Susancameflyingin,herdressinggownflapping.“Hurry,hurry,”shesaid.
Icouldn’thurry.Goingdownstairstooktime.Myhandsshook.Iwouldn’tbefastenough.Iwouldbebombed.
Jamieranahead,butSusanwaitedforme.“It’sallright,”shesaid.“Don’tpanic.”
Acrossthelivingroom,outthebackdoor.JamieduckedintotheAndersonshelterandstuffedBovrilintohisbasket.Thecathowled.Hesoundedlikeababyscreaminginpain.
Istoodatthedooroftheshelter.I’dneveryetgoneinside.Ihatedit,itscaredme,itwassomuchlikethecabinetunderthesinkathome.Theonewiththeroaches.Icouldneverseethemorstopthem.
“Ada,”Susansaid,behindme,“MOVE.”
Icouldn’tdoit.Icouldn’tgoinside.Notintothatdampshelter,thatsmelledexactlylikethecabinet.Notintothatdarkness.Notintothatpain.
Thesirenwailed.Jamieshouted,“Ada,hurry!”
Anoiseliketheplaneexploding.Bombs.Realbombs,hereinKent,Germanbombseveryonefeared.Hereinthecabinetunderthesink—
Susanpickedmeupandcarriedmedownthestairs.Thesmellenvelopedme.Icouldfeelthecrampedcabinet,theroaches.IcouldhearMamlaughingwhileIscreamed.
Iscreamed.Anotherbomb.Morescreams.FromJamie?Fromme?HowwouldIknow?Thememoryofthecabinetseemedreal,seemedtobehappeningrightatthatmoment.Icouldseethecabinet,feelmyselfbeingshovedinside.Terrorenvelopedmybrain.
SuddenlyIfeltsomethingtightaroundme.Ablanket,aroughwool
blanket.SusanwrappedmeinitthewayshehadonChristmasEve,tight,roundandround.“Shh,”shesaid.“Shh.”Sheputherarmsaroundmeandlaidmeonabenchandthenhalfsatonme,squishingmebetweenherbacksideandtheshelterwall.“We’reallhere,we’resafe,”shesaid.ShetookJamieontoherlap.“It’sokay,Jamie,she’sjustfrightened.It’sokay.”Jamiewhimpered.“We’resafe,”Susansaid.“It’sokay.”
Thepressureoftheblanketsoothedme.GraduallyIcamebacktotheshelter,toJamieandSusan.Istoppedscreaming.Myheartdidn’tpoundsohard.Ibreathedthesmellofthewoolblanket,wetfrommytears,insteadoftheshelter-cabinetdampness.
Fromoutsideweheardanotherblast,fartheraway,andtheack-ackfromtheantiaircraftgunsattheairfield.
“We’reokay,”Susansaidwearily.“We’reokay.”
Whentheall-clearsoundedtwohourslater,SusanandIwerestillwide-awake.JamiehadfallenasleeponSusan’slap.Shecarriedhimbacktothehouse.Iwalkedbesideher,trailingtheblanketlikeacape.Welaydowninthelivingroom,toowornouttoclimbthestairs.
Latethenextmorning,whenwewoke,Susansaid,“Ada,therewillbemorebombs.Wewillhavetogointotheshelter.You’dbettergetusedtoit.”
Ishuddered.Icouldn’timaginedoingthatagain.
“Whatsetyouoff?”Susanasked.
“Mam’scabinet—thewayitsmells—”Imademyselfgosomewhereelseinmyhead,fast,beforepanicoverwhelmedme.Butter.IimaginedridingButter.
Susantappedmychin.“Wecanchangethesmell.”
Shewenttothemarketandboughtaromaticherbs,rosemary,lavender,andsage.Shehungthemintheshelter,upsidedownfromtheedgesofthebenches,andtheirsmellfilledthelittleroomevenaftertheywerecrumblyanddry.Icouldn’tsmellthedampnessanymore.Ithelped.Istillpanicked.Susanstillalwayswrappedmeinablanket.ButusuallyIcouldkeepfromscreaming,andIdidn’tactuallyseethecabinetinmyhead.Itwasstillawful,butIdidn’tfrightenJamie.
Thatwasimportant,becausewewentintotheshelternearlyeverynightfromthatfirsttime.TheBattleofBritainhadbegun.
Hitlerhadfiguredouthecouldn’tlandhisinvadingarmyuntilhe’dconqueredtheRoyalAirForce.Otherwise,ourplaneswouldbombhisshipsandtroopswhiletheywerelanding.Oncehe’dgottenridofourplanes,invadingEnglandwouldbeeasy.TheGermanshadalotmoreairplanesandpilotsthantheBritishdid.Theyhaddifferentkindsofplanes,though,andtheirfighterplaneshadshorterrangesthanours.ThismeantthattheycouldonlyreachthesoutheasterncornerofEnglandbeforetheyhadtoturnbackformorefuel.TheycouldonlyshootourplanesandbombourairfieldsinKent.
Theairfieldsweretheirmaintargets.Everyplanetheydestroyed,whetherintheairorparkedontheground,broughtthemonestepclosertoinvasion;everyrunwaytheydestroyedgaveourpilotsonelessplacetosafelyland.Ourairfieldwashitthatveryfirstday;thebombsrippedthroughtwostorageshedsandleftcratersthesizeofsmalltanksinthegrassrunways.Fortunatelyalltheaircrewsfoundshelter.Oncetheall-clearsounded,thecrewsworkedthroughthenight,shovelingdebrisintotheblastholes.Bymorningplanescouldsafelylandagain.
ItwasJuly,andtheworldwasgreenandlovely.IrodeButterthroughfieldsofwavinggrass,upourhilltowhereIcouldseetheblueseaglitteringinthebrightsunlight.Wildrosesgrewinthehedgerows,andtheairfeltheavywiththeirscent.ThebreezeblewandIcouldfeelperfectlyhappy,exceptthatnowIalwayswatchedforplanesaswellasspies.Theyhadn’tcomeindaytimeyet,butIknewtheycould.
Susandidn’tlikemeridingout,butshedidn’twanttoforbiditeither.Ourhomewassoclosetotheairfield,IfiguredIwassaferfartheraway.WhenIsaidso,shelookedgrim.“Ishouldsendyouaway,”shesaid.
ItwashardenoughtocopewithSusan.HowwouldIevercopewithouther?
Whatifwegotsentbackhome?
Istaredatthetipsofmyshoes.“Ican’tleaveButter,”Isaid.
Susansighed.“YousurvivedwithoutaponyinLondon.”
Iliftedmygazetolookather.Ihadsurvived.Maybe.CouldIdoitagain?Backinthatoneroom,Ihadn’tknownallIwasmissing.
“Iknow,”Susansaidsoftly.“It’swhyI’mkeepingyouhere.”
“There’sthingsworsethanbombs,”Isaid,rememberingwhatI’dheardhersaybefore.
“Ithinkso,”Susansaid.“AndKent’sabigplace,theycan’tbombeveryinchofit.”Butshelookedoutthewindowtowardtheairfield,andhereyes
Nightsintheshelter,nightafternight.Itwasimpossibletosleepthroughtheexplosionsandthegunfire.Susanhadaflashlight,butflashlightsneededbatteries,andbatterieswerehardtofind.Insteadshelitacandleinsideaflowerpot,andbyitsdimlightreadtous.PeterPan.ASecretGarden.TheWindintheWillows.Somewerebooksshegotfromthelibrary;otherscamefromherownbookshelves.Onhisown,JamiewasreadingSwissFamilyRobinsonoveragain.“We’relikethem,”hesaidonenight,asthecandlelitflickeredofftheshelter’stinwalls.“We’reinourcave,safeandwarm.”
Ishuddered.Ihadwrappedmyselfinasheet,becauseitwastoohotforablanket.Ifeltwarm,butnotsafe.Ineverfeltsafeintheshelter.“Youare,though,”Susansaid.“Youfeelsaferinyourbedroom,butyou’reactuallymuchsaferintheshelter.”
Itdidn’tmatterhowIfelt.Shemademegointothesheltereverytimethesirenswailed.
Mencameandremovedallthesignpostsfromtheroadsaroundthevillage,sothatwhenHitlerinvadedhewouldn’tknowwherehewas.
Whenheinvaded,weweretoburyourradio.Jamiehadalreadydugaholeforitinthegarden.WhenHitlerinvadedweweretosaynothing,donothingtohelptheenemy.
IfheinvadedwhileIwasoutriding,Iwastoreturnhomeatonce,asfastaspossiblebytheshortestroute.I’dknowitwasaninvasion,notanairraid,becauseallthechurchbellswouldring.
“WhatiftheGermanstakeButter?”IaskedSusan.
“Theywon’t,”shesaid,butIwassureshewaslying.
“Bloodyhuns,”Fredmuttered,whenIwenttohelpwithchores.“Theycomehere,I’llstab’emwithapitchfork,Iwill.”Fredwasnothappy.Theridinghorses,theThortons’finehunters,wereallouttograss,andthegrasswasgood,butthehayfieldshadbeenturnedovertowheatandFreddidn’tknowhowhe’dfeedthehorsesthroughthewinter.PlustheLandGirlsstayingintheloftannoyedhim.“Worktwelvehoursaday,thengooutdancing,”hesaid.“Bunchoflightfoots.Inmydaygirlsdidn’tactlikethat.”
IthoughttheLandGirlsseemedfriendly,butIknewbetterthantosaysotoFred.
Youcouldgetusedtoanything.Afterafewweeks,Ididn’tpanicwhenIwentintotheshelter.Iquitworryingabouttheinvasion.IputJamieupbehindmeonButterandwesearchedthefieldsforshrapnelorbulletsorbombs.Oncewecameacrossanairplaneshotdowninahopsfield.Soldiershadalreadysurroundeditbythetimewegotthere,andwerekeepingciviliansaway.“AMesserschmidt,”Jamiesaid,eyesgleaming.“Wonderwherethepilotwent.”Thepilothadbailedout;theplane’scanopywasopen.
“Caughthim,”oneofthesoldierssaid,overhearing.“Prisonerofwar.Notroubles.”
OnadayinearlyAugustSusanwenttoaWVSmeeting.Jamiewastendingthegarden—helovedit—andItookoffonButterformydailyride.
Iwenttothetopofthehill.Ipaused,thewayIalwaysdid,tosearchtheseaandsky.Noairplanes.Nobigboats.ButthenIsawsomethinginthedistance,somethingsmallonthesurfaceoftheocean.Atinyboat,arowboat,pullingforshore.Iwatchedit,wondering.Itwasheadednotforthetownharbor,butforoneofthebarbed-wiresectionsofthebeach.Wasthepersonlost?Surelyheknewbetterthantolandwheretherewerecouldbemines.Ikeptwatching,frowning.Theman—itlookedlikeaman,Ithought—intheboatcontinuedtorowstraightforshore.Surelyhecouldseethevillagefromthewater.Surelyheknewitwouldbesaferthere.
Unless,Ithought,mybloodrunningcold,hewasaspy.
Aspy!Icouldn’tbelieveit.Ididn’tbelieveit.Ialwayslookedforspiesfromthehill.Itwasahabit.Butthatdidn’tmean,despitetheposters,despitetherumors,thatIactuallyexpectedtoeverseeaspy.Butyet—asinglerowboat,sofarout—wherehadhecomefrom?Didhegetdroppedoffbyasubmarine—aGermansubmarine?Ifhewasn’taspy,whywasheheadedtowardthedesertedbeach?
IheardSusan’svoiceinmyhead.“Improbable,”itsaid.Thatmeannotlikely.
Still,itwasoneoftherules:Reportanythingsuspiciousatonce.IturnedButterdownthefaceofthehill,weavingthroughbrushandtallgrass,tryingtokeepthelittleboatinsight.ItdisappearedfrommyviewasIgotlower,andIspedup,canteringalongtheroadthatledtothebarricadedbeach.IstoppedButterinacopseoftreesjustasthebeachcameintoview.
Itwaslowtide,andthesandstretchedoutwideandflatforamilealong
theshoreline.Rightinthecenterofthesand,themansteppedfromhisrowboat.Hecarriedasuitcaseandhadarucksackonhisback.AsIwatched,heshovedtherowboatbackintothewater.Theseawasquiet.Theboatfloatedhighabovethegentlewaves,andbegantodriftsideways,followingtheshore.
Iswallowedhard.
Theman—anordinary-lookingman,atleastfromthedistance—tooksomethingfromhisrucksack.Heunfoldeditandusedwhateveritwastodigaholeinthebeach.Heputthesuitcaseintothehole.Coveredtheholewithsand.Walkedcautiouslyupthesanddunestowardthebarbedwire.Icouldn’tseewhathappenednext,butsuddenlythemanwasontheothersideofthefence,walkingdowntheroadtowardme.
IturnedButterandgallopedaway.
Icouldhavegonetotheairfield,butthepolicestationwascloserandIknewwhereitwas:neartheschool,neartheshopwhereI’dhadtea.IkeptButtertoacanterevenoverthecobblestonedmainstreet.Ipulledhimtoahaltatthestation,wrappedhisreinsaroundthehandrail,andhurriedupthestepsasbestasIcould.Ididn’thavemycrutches.“IthinkIfoundaspy!”IsaidtothefirstpersonIsaw,aportlymanseatedbehindalargewoodendesk.“Aspyonthebeach!”
Theportlymanturnedtowardme.“Getaholdofyourself,miss!”hesaid.“Ican’tunderstandyouthewayyou’regabbling.”
Igrabbedtheedgeofhisdeskforbalance.Irepeatedmywords.
Themanlookedmeupanddown.Particularlydown,atmybadfootinitsoddhomemadeshoe.Ifoughttheurgetohideit.
“Howwasityousawthisspy?”heasked.Hehadalittlesmileonhisface.Irealizedhedidnotbelieveme.
“Iwasoutonmypony—”Ibegan.Itoldthewholestory,thehillwhereIalwayskeptalookout,thelittleboat,thesuitcaseburiedinthesand.
“Onyourpony,”themansaid,nodding,hissmilewideningintoasmirk.“Watchalotofnewsreels,doyou?Listentothescarystoriesontheradio?”
HethoughtIwaslying,or,atbest,exaggerating.Andnowhewasstaringatmybadfootagain.Ifeltawaveofheatclimbupmyneck.
IthoughtofwhatSusanwoulddo.Idrewmyselfup,taller,andglaredattheman,andIsaid,“Mybadfoot’salongwayfrommybrain.”
Themanblinked.
Isaid,“Iwouldliketospeaktoyourcommandingofficer.Thegovernmentasksustoreportanythingsuspicious,andthat’swhatIamgoingtodo.Ifyouwon’tlisten,Iwanttotalktosomeonewhowill.”
Thesecondpoliceofficertookmemoreseriously.“We’llgointhesquadcar,”hesaid.“Seeifwecanfindhim.”HeaskedifIneededhelpgettingtothecar.
“No,thankyou,”Isaid.IwalkedasstraightasIcouldmanage,eventhoughithurtlikecrazy.Theofficerputmeinthefrontseatbesidehimandtogetherwestarteddowntheroad.We’dhardlygottenoutoftownwhenwecameacrossthemanI’dseen,walkingdowntheroadwithperfectease.Ipointedhimouttotheofficer.
“You’resure?”theofficerasked.
ForamomentIwasn’t.Ihadn’treallygottenacloselookattheman’sface.Buthefeltliketherightperson.Inodded.Theofficerstoppedhiscarandgotout.“Papers,please,”hesaid.
“Really?”saidtheman,inperfectEnglishwiththeaccentLadyThortonused.“Whyeverfor?”
“Routine,”theofficersaid.
Themanraisedhiseyebrowasifitwereallajoke,butreachedintohispocketreadilyenough.Hepulledhisidentitycardoutofabatteredleatherwallet.“I’mjustonabitofawalkingholiday,”hesaid,indicatingtherucksackonhisback.“Myrationcard’sinthereifyouwantmetofishitout.”
HecouldnotsoundmoreEnglish.HecouldnotlookmoreEnglish.Andyet—
“Sir,”Isaidtotheofficer.Hecameovertothewindowonthepassengerside,andleanedin.
“I’msorry,miss,”hesaid,shakinghishead,“butIthinkyou’ve—”
Isaid,“Histrousercuffsarewet.Andthey’refullofsand.”
Noonewentonthebeachesanymore.Nooneever.Itwasn’tallowed.
Theofficer’ssmiledisappeared.ForamomentIthoughthewasangrywithme,butIwaswrong.ThenextthingIknewthemanfromthebeachwashandcuffedandbundledintothebackofthecar.HeprotestedvehementlyinhisperfectEnglishvoice.
Backatthestation,patientButterstillstoodtiedtotheporchrail.Theofficertoldmetogoonhome.“We’llhandleitfromhere,miss.”
IwantedtotellSusan,butIwasn’tsurehow.IputitoffsothatIcouldthinkaboutitmore.Wewerehalfwaythroughdinnerthateveningwhenthepoliceknockedonthedoor.
Itwasmysecondofficer,andanother.“Weneedtospeakwithyourdaughter,ma’am.”
Igotupquickly.Susanlookedstunned.Jamielookeddelighted.
“Weneedyoutohelpuslocatetheburiedparcel,”myofficersaid.SoIwentagaininasquadcar,thistimeallthewaytothebeach.IshowedthemwhereI’dstoodwithButter,watching,andItriedtoshowthemwhereIthoughtthemanhadlandedwithhisboat.Thetidewashighnowandeverythinglookeddifferent.
“We’llhavetogetthearmytodigitupanyhow,”theotherofficersaid.“Forallweknow,thebeachismined.”Hedrovealongtheedgeofthebarbed-wirefence.WegotoutnearwhereIthoughtthemanhadgonethrough,andwalkedupanddowntheroaduntilwefoundafootprint.Theofficermarkeditwithapieceofclothtiedtothefence,andthentookmehome.
IpausedbeforeIgotoutofthecar.“Willyouletmeknowwhathappenstotheman?”
Theofficersshooktheirheads.“It’llbeasecret,miss.”
“Willyouletmeknowifhereallyisaspy?”
Theylookedateachother,andnodded.“Butyou’retostayquietaboutit,”onesaid.
Inodded.“LooseLipsSinkShips,”Isaid.IwentintomakemyexplanationstoSusan.
Shewaswaitingformeonthepurplesofa.Shelistenedtothewholestory.Thensheputherhandsoneithersideofmyface.Shesmiledatme,andshesaid,“Oh,Ada.Iamsoproud.”
Theverynextafternoon,someoneknockedonourdooragain.Itwasapoliceofficer—nottheonewhohadhelpedme,butthefatonewho’dsatathisdeskandthoughtIwasmakingthingsup.“Ineedtoapologizetoyourdaughter,ma’am,”hesaid.Whenhesawme,hesweptoffhishatandbowed.“Ishould
havebelievedyou,”hesaid.“I’msorry.Agratefulnationthanksyouforyourservice.”
Withgreatceremony,hehandedmeanonion.
Thearmyhadfoundthesuitcaseburiedinthesand.Itcontainedaradiotransmitter,thesortspiesusedtosendcodedmessagesacrossthechannel.TheperfectEnglishmanreallyhadbeenaspy.
Ibecameahero.TheRAFmenattheairfieldbroughtmechocolate;theWVSwomenpooledtogetheratablespoonofsugareach,andgavemeawholebag.Daisy’smotherfromthepubhuggedmewhenevershesawme,andeverytimeIwentintothevillageIwasgreetedwithsmilesandshoutsof,“There’sourlittlespy-catcher!”or“There’sourgoodlass!”
ItwasasifI’dbeenborninthevillage.AsifI’dbeenbornwithtwostrongfeet.AsifIreallywassomeoneimportant,someoneloved.
Jamiemademerepeatthestoryoverandoveragain.“Tellme,”he’dbeg.“Tellmeyourherostory.”
Maggiewrotefromherschool.Ooh,IwishI’dbeenwithyou!Imighthavebeen,youknow,ifI’dbeenhome.
Iwishyouhadbeen,Iwroteback.
Youwouldn’tmindsharingthehonors?shereplied.
Iwouldn’thavemindedatall.Itwouldhavebeeneasier.Herowasn’tawordIwasusedtohearing.Theadmirationwasinteresting,buttheattentionmademefeelunsettled.
“Sayitagain,”Jamiesaid,giggling.“Tellmewhatyoutoldthefirstofficer.”
“Helookedatmybadfoot,”Isaid,“andIsaid,‘myfoot’salongwayfrommybrain.’”
“Andyouwereright,”Jamiesaid.
“Yes,”saidSusan.“Shewas.”
Ofcourse,thepartthatwasfrighteningwasthattherehadbeenanactualspy.Arealspy.Senttomaketheinvasioneasier.Whentheairraidsirensstartedupagainitwashardnottobeveryafraid.
“Butyoucaughthim,”Jamiesaid.
“Icaughtonespy,”Isaid.“One.”Thesirenshadstartedearlierthanusual
thatevening,whilewewerestilleating;we’dcarriedourplatestotheshelterwithus.
“An’nowhe’sdead,”Jamiesaid,chewingwithhismouthopen.“Wetookhimouttoafield,linedhimup,andpow!”Hemimedfiringagun.Iflinched.
“Probablynot,”Susansaid.“Iasked.”
Jamienarrowedhiseyes.“What’dwedo,then?”
“Nobodywillsayforsure.”
Ipickedthroughtheboiledpotatoesonmyplate.Susanhadleftthepeelson,becausepeelingpotatoeswastedfoodandweweren’tallowedtowastefoodinwartime.Ididn’tlikethepeels.Englandhadalotofpotatoes;weweresupposedtoeatthemeveryday.
“Probablyturnedhim,”Susansaid.“Madehimadoubleagent.ThatmeansthegovernmentwouldforcehimtosendfalsemessagesbacktoGermany,withthattransmitterofhis.”
“They’dmakehimtelllies,”Isaid.
“Yes,”Susansaid.
Jamiescowled.“Iwouldn’tdothat.IftheGermanscaughtme—”
“Iwould,”Isaid.“Ifhedoesn’tlie,they’llshoothim.I’dlieifIhadto.”
NowsometimestheGermanplanesattackedindaylight.IftheywerefarawayJamieandIstoodinthefieldandwatchedthem,shieldingoureyesagainstthesun.Theplaneslookedlikeswarmsofinsectsbuzzingincirclesinthesky,untiloneplummeted,leavingatrailofsmoke.FromsuchadistanceIcouldn’ttelltheEnglishplanesfromtheGermanones,butJamiecould.
“Oneofours,”he’dsay,or,“Oneoftheirs.”
Sometimeswecouldseethepuffofaparachuteopening,asapilotbailedout.Ialwayshopedforthatpuff,evenwhentheplanewasGerman.
TwoofthepilotswhohadcomeforChristmasdinnerhaddied.WhenJamiefoundout,hecriedhimselftosleep.Ithoughtoftheirfaces,howthey’dlaughedandplayedwithJamie.UnlikeJamie,Ihadn’trememberedtheirnames.I’dbeentooupset,thatday,aboutmygreendress.
IunderstoodwhyI’dbeenupsetonChristmas.I’dfeltoverwhelmed;Ireallycouldn’thelpmyself.Butnow,thinkingback,itseemedalittlesillytobeunhappyaboutadresswhenthepilotsweredead.IfIhadittodoover,Iwouldatleasthavelearnedtheirnames.
Englandlostplaneseveryday.Germanylostmore.NewplanesflewintoourairfieldfromthenorthofEngland.Newpilotscamestraightfromtheirtrainingfields.Theywentupeveryday,andnotallofthemcameback.
Wehadtowinthisbattle,Susansaid,orwewouldlosethewar.OntheradioPrimeMinisterChurchillsaid,“Neverinthefieldofhumanconflictwassomuchowedbysomanytosofew.”Itmeantthepilotsweresavingusall.ItmeanttheyweretheonlythingkeepingtheGermansaway.
Septembercame.Iquitattractingsomuchattentioninthevillage.AweekagoBritishplaneshadattackedBerlin:Thefirsttimewe’dtakenthewarontoGermansoil.Fredcackledindelight.“We’llshow’emnow.”AsmallpieceofadamagedGermanplanehadcomedownontheedgeofoneofThorton’swheatfields.FredgaveittometotaketoJamie.
“Howdoyouknowit’sGerman?”Iasked,turningthescrapofmetaloverinmyhands.
“Isawthebugger,”Fredsaid.“Hewasheadingbackoverthechannel,trailingpartsofhisairplaneashewent.”
ItwasbadtrainingtoletButterrunwhenhewasclosetohome,butthatdayIdidit.Ifeltsohappy.Thesunwaswarm,Icouldn’tseeplanesorhearsirens,andJamiewouldbesopleasedtohavethechunkofGermanplane.Buttergallopedhappily,hisearspricked.I’dbeenpracticingmyjumpingallsummer,andeventhoughFredhadn’tgivenmepermissionyet,Iknewwewereready.InsteadofslowingButterforthepasturegateIturnedhimtowardthestonewall,andurgedhimforward.
Heflewit.We’djumpedthewallatlast.
AcrossthefieldIcouldseeSusanstandinginthebackgardenwithJamieandanadultIdidn’tknow.IkickedButteron,flyingdownthefield.“Jamie!”Iyelled.“IbroughtyouapieceofaMesserschmidt!”IpulledButterupandpattedhisneck,laughing.“Didyouseeusjump?”IaskedSusan.“Didyou?”
ThenIrecognizedthewomanstandingbesideher.
Mam.
Mam.
Ididn’tknowwhattothink.IsteadiedButterinfrontofthegardenwall,myhandsonthereins,andlookedather.Shelookedbackatme,shadinghereyeswithherhand.Herexpression,ofmingledangeranddisinterest,didn’tchange.“Hello,”Isaid.
Shescowled.“Who’reyou?”
Shedidn’trecognizeme.
IdismountedButter,landingcarefullyonmygoodleftfoot.Iuntiedmycrutchesfromthebackofthesaddleandswungmyselfforward,overthegardenwall.“I’mAda,”Isaid.
HerexpressionturnedtooutrageassherealizedwhoIwas.
“Whatthe’ell’sthis?”shesaid.“Justwhodoyouthinkyouare?”
JamiewasholdingMam’shand.Jamielookedsohopeful.
“Cominginonapony!”Mamsaid.“LikelittlePrincessMargaret,areyounow?”
“Ilearnedtoride,”Isaid.“Igosidesaddlesoitdoesn’thurtmy—”
Mamthrustabatteredenvelopeundermynose.“Andthis,”shesaid.“What’sthemeaningofthis,eh?”
Ilooked.ItwasoneofSusan’sletters.Itwasherhandwritingontheenvelope.
“Wantsomekindofoperation,doyou?”Mamsaid.
Myheartleaped.“Theycanfixmyfoot.Thedoctorsaid—”
“Like’elltheycan,”Mamsaid.“Isn’tnothinggoingtofixthatfoot.FirstIgetalettersaysnowIhavetopaythegovernmentfortakingmykidsaway,nineteenshillingsaweekandthegovernmentwantsmetopay—”
“Noonewillmakeyou—”Susaninterjected.
“—andthenhere’sthis.Senttothewrongplace,justgotit,Idid,andwhatisitbutsomeonewiththebloodycheektobetellin’mewhattodowithmykids.Andthenhereyouare,alldressedup,sittin’onapony,noseintheair,actin’foralltheworldlikeyou’rebetterthaneverybody—”
“No,Mam,”Isaid.
“—likeyou’rebetterthanme.”
“No,Mam.”
“Comeon,”Mamsaid.“We’regoin’home.”
Susantriedtoargue.Mamturnedonherandglared.“You’retellin’mewhereIcantakemyownkids?You?Alazyslutinafancyhouse—”Mamwentonfromthere,tellingSusanoffeverypossibleway.
Ifeltmyselfgrowcold,distant,farfromallofthem.Mymindfoldedinonitself.Butno,Ihadtostaypresent,Ihadn’ttakencareofButter.Istartedbacktothepasture.“Wheredoyouthinkyou’regoin’?”Mamsaid.
“IneedtountackButter.Hecan’tstaywithhissaddleon.”
“Like’ell!Comebackhere,we’recatchingthenexttrain.”
IstillmovedtowardButter.Mamwallopedme,caughtmestraightbetweentheshoulderswithahardblow.Ihadn’texpectedit,andIflewforward,scatteringmycrutchesandscuffingmypalmsinthedirt.Jamiecriedout.Tearscametomyeyes.I’dforgottenwhatbeinghitwaslike.Istaggeredtomyfeet.
“I’lltakecareofButter,”Susansaid.
“C’mon,Ada,”Mamsaid.ShehadherhandonJamie’sneck,soIcouldn’tseehisface.Shemarchedhimtowardthesidegate.
“Wait!”Susansaid,turningback.“Theyneedtheirthings.”
“Theydon’tneednothing,”Mamreplied.“Dressedupliketoffs.You’vedonethemnofavors,lettin’themgetabovethemselves.Theydon’tneednothings,notwherethey’regoin’.”
Susanranintothehouseanyway.ShecameoutcarryinghercopyofSwissFamilyRobinson.“Takethis,”shesaidtoJamie,thrustingitathim.“It’syours.”
Mameyedthebooksuspiciously.“Hedon’twantthat,”shesaid.“Whatwouldhedowiththat?”
“Idon’twantit,”Jamieechoed.Hishopefulexpressionhadvanished;helookedpetrified.“Idon’t!”
“No,”Isaid.“Hedoesn’t.”Don’tmakehimtakeit,IsilentlybeggedSusan.It’llbeworseforhimifyoudo.
Susanlookedatme.Herfacewentblank.Sheslippedthebookunderher
arm.“I’llkeepitforyou,Jamie,”shesaid.“Ada,I’lltakecareofButter.Ipromise.Iwon’tlethisfeetgrowlongagain.”
MampushedJamiethroughthegate.
Susansaid,“No.”
Shesaid,“Youdon’thavetogo.Ada.Jamie.Youcanstaywithme.I’llfixit.Ipromise.Youcanstay.”
Mamscowled.“Thinkyoucanstealmykids,doyou?”
“I’llgotothepolice,”Susansaid.“They’lllistentoyou,Ada.They’lllistentous.Youcanstay.”
Thepausethatfollowedthisseemedtolastalifetime.Mamsuckedinherbreath.Jamiesnuffled.IlookedatSusanandIsaid,“Youdidn’twantus.”
Susanlookedstraightbackatme.Shesaid,“Thatwaslastyear.Iwantyounow.”
ButJamiewasholdingMam’shand.ThepolicemightletmestaywithSusan,butthey’dhavenoreasontotakeJamiefromMam.MamneverlockedJamieup.
Isaid,“Ican’tleaveJamie.”
Susanlookedbackatmeandveryslowlynodded.Mammutteredsomethingunderherbreath.SheyankedJamiedowntheroad.Ifollowed.WhenIlookedbackSusanwasalreadyontheothersideofthegardenwall,unbucklingthegirthofmysaddle.Shedidn’tlookup.Shedidn’tsaygood-bye.
WhenwegottotheendofthedriveMamstopped.“What’rethose?”shesaid,pointingtomycrutches.
“Iwalkfasterwiththem,”Isaid.
Shesnorted.“Likeyouneedtowalk.”
Isaid,“Icanwalk.”
“Notforlong,missy,”Mamsaid.“Notforlong.”
ThetraintoLondonwasevenslowerandmorecrowdedthantheonewe’dbeenevacuatedon.Servicemensatonkitbagsintheaisle.Onemanofferedmeaseat,becauseofmycrutches,andMamscowledathimandpushedpastmetositdown.Themanstartedtospeak.“I’mfinestanding,”Isaidquickly.“Withmycrutches—”
Ishouldhavekeptquiet.Mam’seyesnarrowed.“Idon’tknowwhogaveyoutheideaitwasallrighttogooutwherepeoplecouldseeyou,”shesaid,inalow,furiousvoice.“Flauntingyourcrippledself.Youcanusethemthings’tilwegethome,andnotaminutelonger.”
“ButIcanwalk,”Isaid.
“ButIdon’twantyouto.Youhearme?”
Iswallowed.Itwasworsethananightmare.
“Adacaughtaspy,”Jamiewhispered.
Mamsnorted.“Pulltheotherone,”shesaid.
“Tellher,Ada,”Jamiesaid.“Tellheryourherostory.”
Ikeptmymouthshutandshookmyhead.
Itwaslateatnightbeforewegotoffthetrain,andwentstumblingthroughtheinkyblacked-outstreetsofLondon.Itrippedoverroughcurbstones.TheshadowsmadenoisesIdidn’tremember,butthedecayingsmellrisingfromthedampstreetswasthesame.
Butter,Ithought.ThinkofridingButter.
Mamhadmoved,shetoldus,tobeclosertothefactorywhereshenow
worked.“Plusitgotmeawayfromthosetitty-tattyneighborswithnothin’nicetosay.I’vegotadecentjobnow,evenifitisstillnights.You’lllikethenewplace.Itwon’tbeposhlikethatricholdbat’syouwerewith,butit’sprettyfine.”
“Susan’snotaricholdbat,”Jamiesaid.
Oh,Jamie,Ithought,shutup.
“Suresheisnow.Betshepocketswhatshegetstotakeyouin.Except,ofcourse,forwhatshespentonthoseclothes.What’sthatyou’rewearing,anyhow,Ada?Pants?”
“Ridingjodhpurs,”Isaid,thenimmediatelywishedIhadn’t.
“Oooh,fancy!What’sthatcalled,whenit’sathome?”
“They’rejustpantsforriding,”Isaid.“They’renotposh.Poshladieswearridinghabits.Andtheydidn’tcostanything.Susanmadethem.”She’dhadto,whenI’dwornoutthepantsMaggiegaveme.AndIshouldlearntoshutuptoo,reallyIshould.
“Ooh,poshladieswearridinghabits,dothey?Surprisedyouain’tgotoneofthose.”
Susanhadsaidshewouldmakemeone.Shethoughtitwouldbefun.
“Youwon’tbewearingpantsinmyhouse,”Mamsaid.“TomorrowI’llbetakingthosetothepawnshopandgettingyousomethingsuitable.Thecheekofher.Lettingyououtwherepeoplecouldseeyou.”
“There’snothingmuchwrongwithme,”Isaid.“Myfoot’salongwayfrommybrain.”
Slap!
Ifellbackward,stumbling,scrapingmyelbowonsomethingrough.ForamomentIlostmycrutchesinthedark.Jamiehelpedme.Shutup,Ithought.Shutup.
Mamledusupthreeflightsofstairs.Baredimlightbulbshungateachlanding,throwingthestairwellsintoshadow.Isawsomethingscutteroutofview.Arat,Ithought.I’dforgottenrats.I’dforgottenhowthehallwayssmelledfromthecommontoiletsoneachfloor.
Mamswungopenadirtywoodendoor.“Hereweare,”shesaid.
Theflatwastwosmallrooms.Wewalkedintoaroomwithatable,asink,agasring,andsomechairs.Athinrugonalinoleumfloor.
Nocabinetunderthesink.Nocabinetbigenoughtostuffmeinto.Ilooked
firstthing.
“Well?”Mamsaid.
Iswallowed.“Verynice,”Isaid.
“Poshbrat,”Mamsaid.“IcanseeI’mgoingtohavetobeatthetoffoutayou.”Shepickeduponeofthechairsnearthetable.“We’llputthisrightbythewindow,”shesaid.“Thatwayyou’llbecomfy,lookingout.”
WhatwasIsupposedtosay?Inolongerknewtherightanswers.“Thankyou.”
“IseewegotMissMannerslivingwithusnow.Thinksshe’stoogoodfortherestofus.”Mamshowedustheotherroom,containingouroldwardrobeandanewbed.Nosheets,justaroughblanketandapillowandamattress.
Untilwe’dgonetolivewithSusan,Iwasusedtobedslikethis.Iwouldhavethoughttheflatwasfine.Fancy,even,withmorethanoneroom.
“Ihadtotakeoffworktonighttofetchyou,”Mamsaid.“I’mgoingdowntothepubforapint.Youtwobettergotosleep.Ada,I’llfindyouabucket.”
IttookmeamomenttorealizewhyshethoughtIneededabucket.“I’dratherjustusethetoilet,”Isaid.“Iusuallydonow.”
Mamsaid,eachwordheavyandsolid,“Youain’tgoingoutofthisroom.
“Gotthat?”shecontinued.“’CauseIdon’tneedtheworldshamingmeforhavingacrippledgirl.Idon’tcarewhatyoudidsomewhereelse.You’rewithmeagain,you’lldoasIsay.Youdisobeyme,I’llmakeyouwishyouhadn’t.You’reacripple.That’sallyouare.Acripple,andnothingbutacripple.You’veneverbeenanythingelse.Gotthat?”
Isaid,“Susanwasn’tashamedofme.”
“Well,bullyforher.Sheshouldhavebeen.”Mam’seyesglittered.“Disobeyme,”shesaid,pointingatJamie,“andItakeitoutonhim.Gotthat?”
“Yes,ma’am,”Isaid.
Shewentout.Ilookedatthedoor,andthebucket.Iusedthebucket.
JamieandIlayonthemattressinthehotbedroom.“Ican’tsleep,”Jamiewhimpered.“IneedBovril.”
“Susan’lltakegoodcareofhim,”Iwhispered.
“Ineedhim,”Jamiesaid.“Ican’tsleep.”
“Iknow,”Isaid.“Iknow.”
Jamiesaid,“Whathappened?Why’sMamsoangry?”
“Welookdifferent,”Isaid.
“So?”
Itookadeepbreath.Partofmefeltlikeitwasallmyfault,forbeingtooposh,forgettingabovemyself,fornotbeingthesortofdaughterMamcouldlove.
Forbeingacripple.
Andyet...Mamcouldhavefixedmyfoot.ShecouldhavefixeditwhenIwasababy,andshecouldfixitnow.Shedidn’twantto.
Shewantedmetobeacripple.
Itdidn’tmakesense.
Themoonrose.Iwatchedthepatternsitslightmadeontheceiling.Acripple,andnothingbutacripple.
“Jamie,”Isaid,pokinghim,“Icaughtaspy.”
“Iknow,”hesaid.
“AndIlearnedtorideButter,andwejumpedthestonewall.Fredneedsme.”
“Mmmm,”saidJamie,rollingover.
“AndIcanreadandwrite,andknit,andsew.IhelpedthesoldiersduringDunkirkweek.AndMaggieandDaisylikeme,”Isaid.
“Susanlovesyou,”Jamiesaid.
“Shelovesbothofus,”Isaid.
“Iknow,”saidJamie.Hesniffed.“IwantBovril.”
Ididn’treply.Idriftedofftosleep,sometimebeforeMamcamehome,andasIdid,Ithoughtoneword.War.
AtlastIunderstoodwhatIwasfighting,andwhy.AndMamhadnoideahowstrongafighterI’dbecome.
InthemorningJamiehadwetthebed.I’dhalfexpectedit,butMam,sleepingontheothersideofJamie,wasfurious.Shesmackedhisbottomhardandtoldhimit’dbetternothappenagain.“Elseyou’llsleeponthefloor,”shesaid.
Jamiesobbed.Hewasn’tusedtobeingsmackedanymore.“Quitcrying,”Iwhispered,myarmsaroundhim.“You’vegotto.Cryingmakesitworse.”ToMamIsaid,“I’llwashtheblanket.”Ireachedtothefloorformycrutchesandmyshoes.
Theyweregone.
Mamsawthelookonmyface.Shelaughed.“Missingyourcrutches,areyou?”
“Whydidn’tyougetmecrutcheswhenIwasyounger?”Iasked.
Mamsnorted.“Itoldyou,”shesaid.“Idon’twantyougoinganywhere.Idon’twantanyonetoseeyou.”
“Butmyfootcouldhavebeenfixed.WhenIwasababy—”
“Oh,sonowyoubelieveallthattoo?That’swhattheysaid,thosenurses,wantedmetospendmoney,wantedtotakemybabyandmymoneyandputyouinhospitalformonths,allmymoney,andnobodywasgoingtotellmewhattodowithmymoneyandmykid.Wouldn’thaveworkedanyhow.Whenyouwasababyyourfootwasn’thalfasuglyasitisnow.”
Itriedtoabsorballthis.ButJamiehadthoughtofsomethingelse.“Whataboutwhenthebombscome?”heasked.“Where’llwegothen?Athomewehadashelter—”Hestopped,hiseyeswideningwithfear.Iunderstood.ItwasamistaketocallSusan’shousehome.
ButMamdidn’tnotice.Shejustsnorted.“Ain’tnobombsinLondon,”shesaid.“Haven’tbeen,notonce,andthewar’sbeenonayear.”
ItwasaSaturday,butMamsaidshe’dbeworkingthatnight.Thefactoriesranaroundtheclock.ShedozedonthedrysideofthebedwhileItoastedbreadforbreakfastandmadetea.Whenshewoke,sheandJamiewentouttobuyfood.“Where’reyourrationcards?”Mamasked.
Susanhadthem.Shewouldhavegiventhemtous,ifMamhadn’tbeeninsuchanall-firedhurrytoleave.
Iplayeddumb.“Dunno,”Isaid.Jamiestartedtospeak,butIglaredathim
andheclosedhismouthonhiswords.
Mamswore.“Thatidiotwoman,”shesaid.“Probablytryingtocheatme.Probablyusingallyourcouponsuprightnow,buyingallthesugarandmeatshecan.”
Isaidnothing.Iwenttothewindow,satdownonthechair,lookedout.Nothingtosee.Nochildrenplayinginthestreets.Sandbagsuptothewindowsofthefewshops.Womenwalkingbriskly,notsittingdownonthestoopstogossip.
War.
Mamgavemeamorecongeniallook.“Youcan’thelpit,”shesaid,“butwithafootlikethat,there’snothingusefulyoucando.You’llbeacrippleallyourlife.”
WhentheyleftIbecameaspy.Theflatwasfilthy,andIwantedtocleanit,attheveryleastthesinkandthefloor,butIdecidednotto.Mamwouldnoticeandbeangry.BettershethoughtIstayedinmychair.
Thereweren’tmanyplacestohidethings.AfewkitchencupboardswiththepotsandplatesMamhadhadforyears.Clothesinthewardrobe—newclothes,forMam,andsomeolderthingstoo.Asmalltableinthebedroomwithalargernewmirrorhunginfrontofit.
Myhairlookedamess.IbrusheditwithMam’shairbrushandplaiteditneatly.Myfacewasdirty,soIfoundaclothandsoapatthekitchensink,andwashed.Ihadtousethebucketagain,butImovedittothedoorandcovereditwithaplatetokeepdownthesmell.
Backtothetablewiththemirror.Ithadadrawer.Thefrontofthedrawerwasamessofbobbypins,pencilstubs,andoddscrapsofpaper.Ipulleditallthewayout.AttheverybackIfoundasmallpasteboardbox.Inside,astackofpapers.
Iunfoldedthetopone.
CertificateofBirth,itsaid.AdaMariaSmith.
Idrewadeepbreath.Scannedthepaperquickly.FoundwhatIwaslookingfor.May13,1929.
We’dgottenmybirthdaywrong,ofcourse,butwe’dguessedrightontheyear.Ireallywaseleven.
Jamie’sbirthcertificatewasbeneathmine.Beneaththat,myparents’marriagecertificate.
Iheardaloudnoiseonthestairs.Jamiesingingatthetopofhislungs.
Beautiful,beautifulJamie.BythetimeMamswungthedooropenIhadthepapersbackwheretheybelongedandwassittingplacidlyinmychair.
FordinnerMamboiledpotatoesandcabbagewithasmallpieceoftoughbeef.Sheatethebeefherself,because,shesaid,untilwehadourrationbooksbackwedidn’thavetherighttoeatmeat.“I’llgetthatcattosendthem,”shesaid.“Getthelawonher,ifIhaveto.”
Jamielookedmiserableanddidn’twanttoeat,butIpiledhisplatewithvegetables.“They’regood,”Isaidencouragingly.“Theytastedalittlelikethebeef.”
Heeyedme.Iwinked.Hestaredatmeforawhile,thencarefullyateeverythingonhisplate.
WhenMamgotuptoleaveforwork,Itookadeepbreath.Itwastime.Nowornever,Ithought.“Youdon’tneedushere,”Isaid.“You’rebetteroffwithouthavingtotakecareofus,feedusandeverything.Youdon’treallywantus.NotevenJamie.”
Jamiestartedtosaysomething,butIkickedhimunderneaththetable,hard,andheshuthismouth.
Mameyedme.“What’sallthis?Somekindoftrick?”
“Youneverwantedus,”Isaid.“Notreally.That’swhyyoudidn’tsendforus,whenalltheothermothersdid.”
“Don’tknowwhatrightyou’vegottocomplainaboutit,”shesaid.“YouhadaprettyhightimeouttherefromallIcansee.Fancyclothes,fancyideas,prancingaroundthetown—”
“It’snothingtoyouwhathappenstous,”Isaid.“Youonlybroughtusbackbecauseyouthoughtitwouldcostmoretokeepusaway.”
“Andsoitwouldhave,”Mamsaid.“Yousawthatletter.WhyshouldIpayforyoutolivebetterthanme?Whenyou’renothingbuta—”
“Itdoesn’tmatter,”Isaid.Iworkedhardtokeepmyvoicequietandeven.Iwasgoingtohavethetruthsaidplainly.Iwasdonewithlies.
“Nineteenshillings,”Mamsaid.“Nineteenshillingsaweek!Whentheyfirstletyougoawayforfree.Younevercostmenonineteenshillingsaweek.It’srobbery,that’swhatitis.”
“Ifyoudon’thavetopay,youwon’tcareifweleave,”Isaid.“Icanarrangethat.We’llgoawayandyouwon’thavetopayforanything.”
Hereyesnarrowed.“Idon’tknowwhatyou’reupto,girl.Idon’tknowwhereyougotallthesewords.Talk,talk.”
“Icouldgetmyfootfixed,”Isaid.“Evennow.Idon’thavetobeacripple.Youdon’thavetobeashamedofme.”Athoughtwentthroughmyhead:Susanisn’tashamed.
Mam’sfaceturnedred.“I’mneverpayingtofixyourfoot.”
“Itwouldhavebeeneasytofix,whenIwasababy.”
“Oh,that’slies!Youcan’tbelievewhatpeoplesay!Lies!Itoldyourfather—”
Myfather.I’dreadabouthiminthenewspaperclippinginMam’sdrawer.Isaid,slowly,“Hewouldhavefixedme.”Itwasaguess.
“Hewantedto,”Mamsaid.“Hewastheonethatwantedbabies.Itwashimalwaysrockingyou,singingtoyou.”
Ifelttearsdrippingdownmycheeks.Ihadn’tevenrealizedIwascrying.Isaid,“Youneverwantedus.Youdon’twantusnow.”
Mam’seyesblazed.Shesaid,“You’reright,Idon’t.”
“Youneverwantedus,”Isaid.
“AndwhywouldI?”Mamsaid.“Itwasallhim,callingmeunnatural,wantingbabiesallthetime.ThenIgotstuckwithacripple.Andthenababy.Andthennohusband.Ineverwantedeitherofyou.”
Jamiemadealittlenoise.IknewhewascryingbutIcouldn’tlookathimyet.Isaid,“Soyoudon’tneedtokeepusnow.Youwon’thavetopay.We’llbegoneinthemorning.We’llbegoneforgood.”
Mamgotup.Shetookherpurseandhat.Sheturnedbacktolookatme.“Icangetridofyouwithoutpayinganything?”
Inodded.
Shegrinned.Itwasherstuffing-Ada-into-the–cabinetgrin.“Isthatapromise?”shesaid.
AllofmylifeIwouldrememberthosewords.
Isaid,“Yes.”
IheldJamieandwecriedandcried.Histearswetthefrontofmyshirtandmysnotgotintohishair.WecriedlikeI’dnevercriedbefore.
Ithurtsobadly.Theacheinmyheartwasworsethanmyfoothadeverbeen.
WhenwestoppedcryingIheldhiminmyarmsandrockedhimbackandforth.Atlasthelookedupatme,hislashesstillfringedwithtears.Hesaid,“Iwanttogohome.”
“Weare,”Ipromisedhim.“Assoonasthesun’sup,we’regoing.”Icouldreadstreetsignsnow.Icouldfindmyway.Ididn’thaveanymoneyforatrainfare,butIwaswillingtobettherewouldbeaWVSpostsomewhere.TheWVSwomenwouldhelpusout.
IgotoutthebirthcertificatesandshowedJamiehis.“YouwerebornonNovember29,1933,”Itoldhim.“Youaresevenyearsold.”Ishowedhimthemarriagecertificatetoo.“Ourfather’snamewasJames,justlikeyours.”AndItookoutthelastpieceofpaper,anewspaperarticle.AccidentatRoyalAlbertDockKillsSix.“Hediedwhenyouwereatinybaby.WhenIwasjustturnedfour.”
Iputthemarriagecertificateandthenewspaperclippingbackinthedrawer,butstuffedthebirthcertificatesintomyjodhpurpocket,readyforthemorning.
Whoop-WHOOP.Whoop-WHOOP.Whoop-WHOOP.
Thesoundcamefromtheopenwindow.Louderandlouder.
Anairraid.
Ididn’tknowwheretheshelterwas.
Ididn’thavecrutches.Ihadn’twalkedfaronmybadfootforalong,longtime.
Jamiegrabbedmyhandinpanic.Thesiren’swailgrewlouder.“Comeon!”Isaid.
“Where?”
IpretendedIknew.“Downthestairs!”Peoplewerehurryingoutofthe
flats,rushingdownwithbeddingintheirarms.Icouldn’tslidedownthestairs,notinthecrowd,soIclutchedtherailwithbothhandsandwentasfastasIcouldwhilepeoplepushedpastme.Jamieheldontomyshirt,trembling.Thesirenbegantowinddown,itsnoisereplacedbyfar-offblasts.
Bombs.
Outinthedarkstreet,Icouldn’tseewheretogo.Icouldhearpeople,buttheyseemedtobemovinginalldirections.Shoutsechoedbetweenthebuildings.IgrabbedJamie’shandandturnedatrandom,movingasfastasIcould.Anopendoorway,astairgoingdown—anything—
Abombexplodedoverhead.Thestreetsrangwiththesoundofshatteringglass.Farinfrontofus,towardthedocks,theskybegantoglowred.Fire.Thedockswereonfire.
Abuildingbehindusexploded.Theshockwavethrewusintothestreet.Myearsfeltlikethey’dexplodedtoo.Bricksraineddown,andpiecesofglassandrubble.IputmyarmsoverJamie’shead.Helookedlikehewasscreaming,butIcouldn’thearhim.Icouldn’thearanything.
Iscrambledtomyfeet,pullinghimwithme.Thereinfrontofuswasanopendoor.Stepsleadingdown.Ashelter.ThankGod.
Strangershauledusinside.Downthestairstoabasementroomfullofpeople,hotanddamp.Concernedfaces,lipsmoving,sayingthingsIcouldn’thear.Handsholdingusup,cradlingus,offeringustea.WipingbloodfromJamie’sface.Wipingmyfaceaswell.
Peoplemaderoomforusontheconcretefloor.Someonewrappedablanketaroundus.IhungontoJamie.Iwouldneverletgoofhim,Ithought.Never.
Eventuallyweslept.Inthemorninganairraidwardenrousedusall.“Thefiresaregettingcloser,”hesaid.“We’vegottocleareveryoneout.”
Isatup.Thedockshadbeenonfire.Buttheywerealongwayoff.Weren’tthey?
Itwasn’tuntilthemanansweredme,saying,“Allsortsofstuffisonfire,miss.Thewatermainsarebrokenandthey’rehavingatimegettingtheblazesout,”thatIrealizedIhadspoken.ThenIrealizedIcouldhear.Myearsstillrang,buttheywereworkingagain.
IshookJamie.Heemergedfromsleeplikearabbitfromaburrow,atinybitatatime.“Iwanttogohome,”hesaid.
Inodded.“Yes.”
Hewasgraywithdustfromheadtotoe.Smearsofredfromhisbloodynosestillranacrosshisneck.Hisshirtwastornandhewasmissingashoe.IsupposedIlookedasbad,orworse.“Comeon,”Isaid.
Weemergedontotheruinedstreet,wheregapsshowedintherowsofbuildingslikemissingteeth.Apallofdustandsmokechokedthesunlight,butthestreetsparkledasthoughcoveredwithstars.Glass.Alltheshatteredglass.
Andcomingtowardus,pickingherwaythroughtherubbleanddebris,asmallfigurewithfrizzyblondhairpokingoutthesidesofherhat.Shelookedlikeathin,verydeterminedwitch.Istared,disbelieving.Myvoicedriedupinmymouth.
NotJamie.“Susan!”hescreamed.
Herheadsnappedupasifyankedbyastring.Hermouthflewopen,andthenshewasrunningtowardus,andJamiewasrunning,knockingintoher,buryinghisfilthyfaceinherskirt,andthenIcaughtup,andbeforeIknewitherarmswerearoundmetoo.Herwoolcardiganfeltscratchyagainstmyface.Iputmyarmsaroundher,overthetopofJamie’shead.Iheldontight.
“Oh,mydears,”shesaid.“Whatadisaster.Whatamiracle.You’reallright.You’rebothallright.”
Arestaurantnearthetrainstationwasopendespitehavinghaditswindowsblownout.Susanorderedtea,thentookustothelooandtriedtocleanusup.“Whereareyourcrutches?”sheaskedme.“Oh,Ada,yourpoorfeet.”Despitemystockings,myfeetwerecoveredwithcuts.“Whathappenedtoyourshoes?”
“Mamtookthem,”Isaid.“AndthenIcouldn’tgettotheshelterfastenough.Notbeforethefirstbombsfell.”
Shepressedherlipstogether,butdidn’tspeak.Backinourseatsshecontinuedtositsilently.Awaitressbroughtussandwichesandwebegantoeat.
“Howdidyoufindus?”Jamieasked.
“Yourmotherleftherlettersbehind.Oneofthemhadheraddressonit.Butthatbuilding—”Shepaused.“Well,ittookahit,I’mafraid.Butsomeofthepeoplewholivedtherehadcomeback,werestandingbytherubblethismorning,andonewomanthoughtsherememberedseeingyougoingdownthestairs.”
Susanmadeaface.“Sherememberedpassingyou,becauseyouweremovingsoslowly.SoIhopedyou’dmadeittoashelter.I’vebeensearchingtheshelters.Ineverrealizedthere’dbesomany.”
Ihadamoreimportantquestion.“Why?Whydidyoucomeforus,afteryouletusgo?”
Susanstirredherteawithaspoon,roundandround,lookingthoughtful.Therestauranthadsugaronthetable,butitwasbadmannerstotakemorethanabit.“You’llfindout,”shesaidatlast,“thattherearedifferentkindsoftruth.It’strueyourmotherhasarighttoyou.IwasthinkingofthatwhenIletyougo.
“ButthenIcouldn’tsleep.IsatintheshelterwiththewretchedcatandIrealizedthatnomatterwhattheruleswere,Ishouldhavekeptyou.Becauseitwasalsotruethatyoubelongedtome.Doyouunderstandthat?Canyou?”
Isaid,“Wewerecomingbacktoyouthismorning.”
Shenodded.“Good.”
Afewminuteslatersheadded,“ItookthefirsttrainIcould,yesterday.Butitwassoslow,anditstoppedsomanytimes,andthenwhenthebombingstartedtheywouldn’tkeepgoingintoLondon.Wespentmostofthenightonasiding,andonlypulledintothestationatdawn.”
Shestoppedtalking.Jamiehadslumpedagainstthetable.Hewassoundasleep.
SusanheldmyarmasIlimpedtothestation.Shesaid,“Youneedednewcrutchesanyhow.Youweregettingtootallforyouroldones.”
Inodded,gratefulIdidn’thavetoexplain.SomedayI’dtellherthewholestory,whatI’dsaidtoMamandwhatshe’dsaidtome,butnotnow.Maybenotforalongtime.Ittoreaholethroughmyheartjusttothinkaboutit.
ThetraintoKentwaspacked.Susanfoundaseatforme,butJamieendeduplyingdownbeneaththebenchesandSusansatonasoldier’sbagintheaisle.Thetrainmovedinfitsandstarts;Idozedwithmyheadagainstthewall.WhenJamiehadtousethetoilet,soldierspassedhimovertheirheadstotheoneattheendofthecar,andbackagainwhenhewasdone.
Whenwestumbledoutofthestationatourvillage,Susanwavedtowardthetaxiparkedbythecurb.“Getin,”shesaidtome.“I’mnotmakingyouwalkanotherstep.”
WedrovethroughthequietSundaymorningvillageanddownSusan’stree-lineddrive.Suddenly,shegasped.
Igotoutofthetaxi,andsawwhatshesaw.
Thehousewasgone.
AdirecthitfromaGermanbomb.
Whatseemedlikehalfthevillagestoodamongtherubble,carefullyliftingawaybricksandstones.Theylookedupatthetaxi.
Theysawus,anditwaslikewhenwesawSusaninLondonalloveragain,theastonishmentontheirfaces.Thefearturningtohappiness,tolaughterandsmiles.
Susanstoodfrozen,herhandcoveringhermouth.
Theyrushedtowardus—Fred,thevicar,StephenWhite.Thepublicanandhiswife.Thepolicemen.Pilots.LadyThortonthrewherarmsaroundSusanandburstintotears.
“Whydidn’tyoutellmeyouwereleaving?”shesobbed.“Younevergoanywhere—whydidn’tyouletanyoneknow?”
AblurofgrayfurstreakedoutoftherubblestraighttowardJamie.“Bovril!”heshrieked.
Thepasturelaybeyondtherubble.Itriedtorun,butafterthreestepsFredcaughtme.“He’sfine,”hesaid.“Yourpony’sfine.Hemusthavebeenontheothersideofthefieldwhenthebombhit.”TearswerecoursingdownFred’scheeks.“It’syouweweremissing,”hegasped.“Youwewerediggingfor.Thesirensneverwentofflastnight.Wethoughtwe’dlostallthreeofyou.”
JamiebouncedovertoSusan,grinning.“We’vebeenshipwrecked,”hesaid.
Susanstilllookedstunned,butatJamie’sinsistenceshestrokedBovril’shead.ThensheputherarmsaroundJamieandlookeddirectlyatme.“It’sluckyIwentafteryou,”shesaid.“Thetwoofyousavedmylife,youdid.”
Islippedmyhandintohers.Astrangeandunfamiliarfeelingranthroughme.Itfeltliketheocean,likesunlight,likehorses.Likelove.Isearchedmymindandfoundthenameforit.Joy.“Sonowwe’reeven,”Isaid.
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