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Copyright©2015byKimberlyBrubakerBradley

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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.

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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

ForKathleenMagliochetti,whofirstintroducedmetoEngland

“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.

Crazyornot,Iwasfree.

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.

Ishrugged.Ihadneverneededtakingcareof,butIdecidednottosayso.

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

creasedwithworry.

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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