Rosie Goes to War by Alison Knight

suitcase and follow May up the stairs to the first-floor landing. I know what the bedroom will look like before May opens the door. It was the same room Gran and me cleaned this morning. Only it’s the dark, cold version, not the nice cosy one.
    â€˜Isn’t this Nelly’s room?’ I ask without thinking. When May turns to look at me, all surprised, I want to slap myself for being so stupid.
    â€˜How did you know that?’ May asks.
    â€˜Er … I’m psychic?’
    May giggles. ‘Nah, don’t be daft. There ain’t no such thing, is there? Mind you, Lil over the road reckons she’s got the ’fluence on account of her Nan being a Romany who used to live in caravan.’ She wiggles her fingers in front of her face and crosses her eyes. ‘Mad as a hatter, she is.’
    I grin and shrug. ‘OK, I’m not psychic. I just guessed.’
    May nods. ‘Fair enough. It was a good guess. Nelly’s moved into our dad’s room while you’re here. If he comes home on leave, we’ll have to share so he can have his bed.’
    â€˜Are you expecting him home soon?’
    â€˜Dunno. He’s Merchant Navy, not regular. It’s more dangerous, you know. The Merchants are trying to keep us supplied, but the bloody U-boats keep going after them.’ She’s quiet for a bit. Then she looks all serious and says, ‘I have nightmares sometimes. I’m scared he won’t come home. We’ve already lost our mum. What will we do if we lose him too?’
    I want to hug her. She looks so sad. ‘He’s going to be all right,’ I say. ‘I know he will.’
    â€˜No you don’t,’ she says. ‘Only God knows, and he ain’t letting on. But thanks for trying to cheer me up anyway. Now, there’s a bit of space for your bits and bobs. Nelly cleared out the top drawer of that chest, and there’s a couple of hangers spare in the wardrobe if you want to hang anything up.’
    â€˜OK, thanks.’ I wait for her to go, but she sits on the bed.
    â€˜What have you got then? Let’s see your clothes. I don’t suppose you brought an overall for work, did you?’
    â€˜I don’t know,’ I say. I can’t remember seeing one. I pick up the case and put it on the bed next to her. She’s looking at me a bit funny. ‘I – er, my gran packed for me,’ I lie. ‘I don’t know what she put in here.’
    May’s face clears. ‘Well get it open then, let’s have a butchers. I love seeing what other people have got. Nelly says I’m right nosy, but I just think it’s really interesting. Don’t worry, it won’t bother me if you’ve got something I ain’t.’
    I open the case, bracing myself for the mothballs, but it smells all right, like the clothes have just been washed. It’s definitely the same case, but everything is neatly packed, not just stuffed in like it was when I shut it and carried it out of Gran’s kitchen. The papers and gas mask box are on the top. I put them on the dressing table, then take out the pretty blue cardigan with the pearl buttons.
    â€˜That’s nice,’ says May. ‘Did you make it?’
    I laugh. ‘God no. I can’t knit.’
    â€˜You’re pulling my leg. Everyone can knit.’
    â€˜Not me.’
    â€˜Didn’t your mum teach you?’
    â€˜She can’t knit either,’ I say. ‘She tried, but she’s useless, which annoys her because some of her friends are really good at it and are always making weird-looking jumpers and throws for their sofas, that sort of thing. I’m glad she can’t. I wouldn’t want to have to wear some of the rubbish those women produce. They look ridiculous if you ask me.’
    â€˜So who made that?’ she asks, pointing at the cardigan.
    I shrug. ‘Dunno.’
    I open the drawer May said I could use, and put the folded cardi