Isabella Rockwell's War by Hannah Parry

in front of the fire sat another
girl about Ruby’s age moving sausages around in a frying pan. The
two dogs, both blonde mongrels sat nearby, drooling.
    Isabella had
never smelt anything so good. She sat on a tattered sofa in a daze
until Midge put a plate of sausages and bread into her hand and a
large mug of steaming tea on the floor next to her. Ignoring the
scalding to the roof of her mouth, she fell on the food like an
animal, paying no heed to those around her.
    “She’s really
hungry, ain’t she, Ruby?” A little girl of no more than five or six
was sitting in Ruby’s lap having finished her food. She was blonde
and pale and small but with a sweetness in her face which made
Isabella want to smile. She had her fingers entwined in Ruby’s
hair.
    “She was
hungry, that’s right Lil’, but I think she might be feeling better
now.” Isabella looked down at her empty plate and mug and felt
embarrassed. She had no memory of eating the food. Midge held his
last sausage out to her.
    “Do you want
it?” Isabella felt she could eat a hundred more sausages, but
remembering how her father would say a soldier should always be a
little hungry, to keep himself on edge, she shook her head and
smiled for the first time that day.
    “No, thank
you, Midge. I’ve taken enough of your food already.”
    It was as if
she’d passed some kind of test. Altogether, the children rose up
and shuffled nearer, inundating her with questions.
    “What happened
last night with Midge?”
    “Did you save
his life?”
    “Did you fight
off them Barrow Boys?”
    “Why’s your
hair so long?”
    “Why do you
speak funny?”
    “Where are you
from?”
    “Do you want
to see where I sleep, I made me bed meself…?”
    Isabella
laughed. There were only five or six of them, but together they
sounded like one hundred.
    “I didn’t save
Midge, I didn’t fight the Barrow Boys, maybe I speak funny because
I’m from India and, yes, I’d love to see your bed.” The tiny boy to
whom this last comment was directed, took Isabella by the hand
pulled her over to a muddled heap of blue and red fabric.
    “Mine,” he
said with a flourish of a filthy hand.
    Isabella
nodded.
    “That looks
very comfortable indeed.” The child beamed and bent to retrieve
something else.
    Later, having
admired everyone’s bed and meagre stores of possessions, Isabella
sat again with Ruby and Midge and the little girl and another cup
of tea, made sweet from a tin of sugar syrup kept liquid by the
fire. The clear winter light was leaving the sky, though it was
only mid-afternoon so the sooty windows looked less dirty. Isabella
went to the window. Lanterns were winking on in the buildings
across the river. The light was deepening and the brick buildings
facing west suddenly turned crimson as they were drenched with the
blood-red dying rays of sun. She shivered. It was time to leave.
She couldn’t presume on their hospitality anymore.
    Shouldering
her bag, she bent to hug Midge.
    “Thank you for
the breakfast.”
    “You’re not
going are ya?” He said looking crestfallen.
    “Yes, I must.
I’ve got to find some shelter before tonight and then tomorrow…
well, tomorrow I’ve got some business to attend to.”
    “But you could
stay here!” Midge’s face was pleading as he turned to Ruby.
“Couldn’t she?”
    Ruby looked
sad.
    “I wish she
could Midge and you know if it were up to me, she would be able to
stay, but you know the rules.”
    “But she saved
my life and she’s got nowhere to go! I thought Zachariah always
said we should stick together.”
    “I do have
somewhere to go,” she interjected trying to save face, but now Ruby
was speaking.
    “You know what
Zachariah will say…”
    “What will I
say, exactly?”
    Ruby jumped
and then went pink.
    “Oh Zachariah,
you scared the living daylights out of me.”
    “Hardly
surprising considerin’ all the racket you lot were making… and
who’s this and what’s it doing here?” Isabella felt a finger