I’ve only ever read about this gorgeous place in books. We were summoned to the village hall where the `host families` pick the evacuees that look the most presentable. I know this from what my grandmother told me. I’m missing my own family already, and I haven’t even set foot in the house we’re going to be staying in.
As me and Tommy entered the tall marble building, over fifty evacuees were standing, looking hungry and tired. I opened my backpack and pulled out a packet of nuts and raisins and started chomping. As the line of children waiting to meet the billeting officer, some guy who is in charge of finding us a place to stay, I could tell Tommy was getting more starving by the minute. I grabbed the only thing he would eat, a rosy red apple, freshly picked from Mum’s garden yesterday.
“Where’s Daddy?” Tommy asks, his voice wobbling slightly.
But before I could answer, this tall, fat, bald man walked towards us, holding out his hand.
“Pleasure to meet you...-,” he glanced at the labels around our necks. “...Harriet and Thomas McCully,”
“Pleasure to meet you too, billeting officer,” I curtsied down, where I could see his jet black glossy shoes. Which reminded me of my Dad. He used to protest to Mum that his shoes had to be as shiny as shiny can get. I miss that.
We lined up and waiting for the strangers to choose us over the other children, who came from London. Families came and went with their chosen children. There was only about sixteen of us left when a small child ran over to me and hugged me.
“Er… Hello, little girl. Your Mummy is over there,” I say, pointing to the woman in the blue flowing dress. She never took her eyes off of me and Tommy when she came over and grabbed her daughter and shuffled to her husband.
There was whispering and laughing and for a split second, I thought they were going to go for Alice Tate, the girl right next to me, whose mother and father died in the same week.
“We like her,” the woman said, pointing to me. My face dropped, when she says her she means me. Only me.
I tried my best to stay with Tommy, but before the woman could go back for him, he was being taken by a family of four. As I turned my back and walked away, it felt as if I was turning my back to life.
“Do you need help?” A boy around my age asked, peeping his head around the door.
“Urm…” Before I could answer he already answered for me.
“To late, I’m already in!” He joked, walking towards me. He picked up two out of the seven books I took along with me.
“Wow, you’re a big reader.” He stared at the books as he flicked through the pages, looking amazed. “You must be good, the last time I read was-… Oh! Are you okay?” he pounced over as if I was having a heart attack. Which is what crying felt like.
I blew my nose in the hanky Dad handed to me before he left. “Yes, I’m fine. It’s just…… This. This is how I’m going to live my life, for god knows long,” I looked around the pale peach room, at the empty bookcase, the bed and bedside table.
“You’ll be fine, with me. Promise,” his voice softening.
“No. No! You don’t get it, do you?” I started to cry again.
“What? Get what?” He acted all delirious.
“Do you even know what’s going on in London? Germany? Or France? I could name a whole bunch of other places if you like!”
“A war. Yes, I get it. You’ve been taken here because of the war, congratulations,” Ooh, I really wanted to slap him.
“No, not only there is a war going on, but my Dad is in the middle of it, my Mum and grandmother have to live in the darkness and I’ve been separated from the only thing I have left of my family!” I scream.
There was an awkward silence.
Then the woman who picked me out, who claims to be called Helen comes up.
“Harriet, dear. Oh, there you are. I see you’ve met Christopher,” She looked blank at my puffy red face and Christopher’s shocked expression.
“Christopher. Out. NOW. Leave Harriet in peace.” She stared at him angrily. “Babe, if you want anything, please give me a shout. You know where I am,” She gave me a special smile and walked out. Her daughter Elizabeth waved and skipped away. I wiped my tears, and continued unpacking.
I’m not complaining or anything, these are lovely people, but I just don’t feel at home. I guess I never will. Living with complete strangers, away from my whole family, for some poxy war. I’m listening to the radio every day now, waiting to see if my Dad’s name comes up in the men who have died. Nothing, which is good, and I'm pleased he's doing so well, but I wish this whole thing would end, but everybody knows, it's not as easy as that.
Mum sent a letter today, and when I read it, a smile spread across my face.
Dear Harriet,
I miss you and Tommy so much. I made cupcakes yesterday and I kept asking you to help wash up, then I remembered you are not here. It upsets me, but this is for your own good and hopefully you can see that. Grandma is fine. Granddad is... good. How are you, by the way? I hope your enjoying your stay, remember manners, please and thank you and don't leave the table until you are told. Are the people nice? Make sure you are polite, too. I love you, Dad hasn't written yet, but it's probably because he's so busy, anyway, I love you, again. Bye.
From Mother xx
Why did Mum pause when she said Granddad is good? Well, I'd better write back.
Dear Mother,
I miss you all so much, too. Tommy isn't with me, we were separated. But please don't worry, I'm sure the people he's staying with are just as nice as the people I'm staying with. I'm good, thank you. And yes, I will remember to be polite and use my manners. There's a boy here, he's my age and there's a little girl, she's around Tommy's age. The mother is so nice, but the father is not around. He's at the war, like Dad. Speaking of which, please tell me when Dad writes. I want to know if he's okay, I'm sure he is, though. I'm glad Grandma and Granddad are okay. Please tell me if something is wrong. You will, won't you? I love you, too. Good bye. Write back soon, please.
From Harriet xx
All I can do now, is wait, and hope, she reports back on the family I haven't seen, in three days...
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