Peggy's Letters by Jacqueline Halsey Page A

know.”
    Suddenly I remember watching Dad free a rusty bolt. Instead of pulling, he jiggled it sideways. I try the same thing, movingthe clip back and forth, back and forth. I can feel it loosening under my fingers. Another wiggle, a hard squeeze and the clip opens.
    â€œThis one’s free.”
    â€œI can’t find the clip,” calls Spud from the other side of the pram.
    Leaning over Tommy, I slide my hand along.
    â€œWhere is it?”
    â€œTom-Tom, up,” cries Tommy. “Up, up, up.” He stretches his little arms toward me, and as he moves the clip appears.
    â€œThere it is!” screams Spud.
    Luckily this clip is easier than the first. One hard push and the harness is free.
    â€œLet’s go, Tommy.”
    He climbs into my arms, and we race over to Grandad.
    Spud gives the pram a mighty push. It bounces down into the bombsite, hits a wooden beam, turns over and explodes.
    There’s a crack like thunder and a flash like lightning, but no storm has ever been this scary. The ground shakes, and the rain quivers.
    Grandad throws us to the ground and stretches his arms and coat over our heads. His heart is beating louder than mine. Bricks and metal clatter down around us.
    Then it’s quiet. There’s just the sound of the rain.
    Tommy wriggles underneath me, and Grandad moves his arm.
    â€œIs everyone all right?” he asks.
    Slowly I raise my head. Through a curtain of rain and smoke, I see a pram wheel. It’s still turning. There’s a piece of pram handle on the pavement, and part of Tommy’s blanket has fallen near my hand. The pram is completely destroyed.
    Spud lies motionless on the ground. I scramble over to him.
    â€œSpud! Don’t be hurt. Please be all right.”
    He slowly rolls over. There’s pain on his face, but it turns to a grin when he sees me. “What a bang!” he says.
    I pound on his chest.

    â€œThis isn’t a game. You nearly killed my brother. You nearly killed me.”
    Grandad pulls me away.
    â€œIt’s okay, luv. It’s all over. Everyone’s safe.”
    Grandad looks like he’s crying, but it may be the rain.
    â€œI don’t know what I’d have done if I had lost you two as well,” he says.
    â€œYou mean you’d miss us?”
    â€œVery much,” says Grandad. I put my arms around him. His clothes smell of his favorite tobacco, his voice is low and his arms are big enough for Tommy and me.
    Suddenly people are all around us.
    â€œLet’s get you folks checked over at the hospital,” says a policeman, putting a blanket round my shoulders. As I glance back over the scene, I realize that Dad’s letters are gone for good.

15
    Tommy shows off his bandaged knee to everyone who passes as the nurse finishes stitching the cut on my arm. My clothes were soaked right through to my underwear so I’m wearing a hospital gown, but I can’t stop shaking even in a warm room with a blanket round my shoulders.
    â€œWhere’s Spud. Is he okay?”
    â€œCuts, bruises and a broken arm. Bit shaken up too,” says the nurse. “He’s in the next cubicle. I’ve sent for his mother.”
    â€œWe’ll stay with him until she comes,” says Grandad.
    The nurse finishes with me and pulls aside the curtain. Spud’s face is as white as the sheets.
    â€œYou don’t have to stay,” he says.
    â€œOf course we’ll stay.”
    He lies back on the pillow, too exhausted to argue.
    The door opens. Mum rushes in and surrounds me in a hug that lasts forever. She touches my head and inspects my arms and hands, while Grandad recounts the adventure. He makes Spud and me sound like heroes, but how can we be heroes when it’s all our fault?
    The door opens again, and in walks Mrs. Mashman.
    What’s she doing here?
    Mrs. Mashman goes straight to Spud’s bed. “Stanley,” she says. “What have you been up to this time?”
    I