Rosie Goes to War by Alison Knight Page B

meant it, even though I have no idea what carbolic is. It’s bound to be something horrible.
    â€˜Bloody leave me alone,’ I said, turning away from her.
    Well, Nelly wasn’t having that. She grabbed the bedclothes and pulled them off me. It was so flipping cold, I screamed. Then May came running in, wanting to know what all the fuss was about.
    Anyway, it wasn’t a good start to the day, so let’s leave it at that. I got up in the end because I didn’t have any choice. There was a bowl of watery porridge waiting for me downstairs – no sugar of course – and some of that weird-tasting tea. Apparently, it’s the ‘sterilised milk’ that makes it so strange. I think it’s like UHT milk, but as we don’t use that at home I have no idea whether it tastes the same.
    Then, I had to wash at the kitchen sink, using the foulest-smelling soap I’ve ever encountered. It’s called Wright’s Coal Tar Soap – honestly. Just don’t ask, because I have no idea. The smell is almost as bad as mothballs.
    I completely forgot about cleaning my teeth last night. I suppose, when you think you’re going to die, it sort of becomes a low priority. This morning I discovered there’s no toothpaste, so I had to clean my teeth with some weird powder I found in the suitcase. The toothbrush with it is made of wood and has real bristles. Honestly, it was like putting an old garden broom in my mouth. It was horrible. I’d have given anything for my electric toothbrush and a tube of Aquafresh.
    I had to ask May what I should wear for working in a factory. Well, I don’t know, do I? I’m just glad that May was around, because Nelly isn’t talking to me. I suppose I’ll have to apologise to her soon, but she doesn’t make it easy. She’s just as cross and disapproving now as she will be in the future.
    Maybe I should try to get her to lighten up a bit. Or would that amount to messing with the future?
    So, now we’re on our way to work. It’s still dark, and the street lights are off, so I’ve got to make sure I stay close to the girls or I’ll lose them. Thank God I found some flatter shoes in the case, and some nice tailored charcoal wool trousers (high waist though, I’m not used to that), a cream cotton blouse and a dark red jumper. I don’t have a big coat, just the suit jacket, but the girls are moving fast, so I’m getting pretty warm almost running to keep up with them. My gas mask box is slung over my shoulder and it’s banging against my hip. I’ll probably end up with a bruise. I don’t suppose they’ll have any arnica gel for it. Mum’s always got some homeopathic stuff for whatever’s wrong with us. Dad calls it mumbo-jumbo, but she swears by it even when he’s going on about it having no proven scientific effect.
    â€˜Hurry up, Queenie,’ says May. ‘If you don’t get a move on we’ll miss the bus.’
    â€˜How much further is it?’ I ask, trying to hold the box against me so it doesn’t keep hitting me.
    â€˜Just round the corner.’
    I’m almost jogging as we round the corner and – oomph! I run straight into someone, a big someone, banging my nose on hard brass buttons in the middle of his chest. A pair of arms grab me to stop me from bouncing off him and onto my backside.
    â€˜Sorry, Miss. Didn’t see you there.’
    I look up – and it’s a long way I can tell you – into the face of a soldier. He’s fairly young, I think, although his voice is quite deep and he’s very tall. It’s still too dark to see all his face clearly, but his smile is quite nice.
    â€˜That’s all right,’ I say, smiling back at him. I don’t usually smile at strangers, but there’s something about this guy. I suppose it’s because he saved me from falling over, and he’s so solid. He seems familiar, like