Leaving

All it's gonna take is for the Jerrys to reckon it out, what we're doing, and I bet they drop a bomb on the train station. With all us kids on the platforms. We'll be blown to bits.

Mam squeezes my arm a bit. Tells me to be brave. I thought I was. Maybe everyone can tell how scared I am.

I keep thinking about that bomb dropping down and what that will be like. Will there be bits of arms and legs everywhere? Easier to think of that than think about where I'm going. Will the people be alright? Will I ever come home? No. Those things are too real and horrible. Arms and legs is easier.

Mam checks my bit of card again, and the thick brown string, like she's done a hundred times. I look up at her. She blinking a lot, and patting at her face. That's the grown up version of crying, I think. I like that and I don't like it at the same time. I don't want to think about that too hard, all the why-ing and what-iffing. Arms and legs. Arms and legs.

"You look a bit peaky," she says, pinching my cheeks. I want to pull away, but I hold still instead, and really feel what her hands are like.

"If they think you're sickly, they mightn't pick you," she says, and then she stops, very sudden, and goes back to dabbing at her face. I wonder if she's hoping I do get picked, or if I don't. What'll happen then? Will I just ride the train back and chance it here?

I look round at all the other kids, and a lot of them look pale as well. If I have to come back on the train, at least I won't be on my own.

Lots of these other kids have got brothers and sisters to get on the train with. I'm jealous, a bit. There's not many, like me, on our own.

"I wish Martha was here."

I said it out loud. That's torn it, that has. Proper tears are coming down Mam's face now.

"Sorry," I say, and she does a big snorting noise into her hanky.

She hiccups a bit, and her makeup is all ruined. She dabs it with her snotty hanky. "I miss her too," she whispers.

"D'you want mine?"

"Oh," she says, and I think she might snort again. She closes my hand around the bit of white cotton and holds it there. "I think you'd better keep it," she says, and oh! Now I want this bit to keep going and stretch and stretch...

The whistle goes, and she hugs me. It feels like she's squashing all the air out.

She says something, quiet, near my ear, but I can't hear it proper because it's all got very loud. Then she's standing up and walking away, fast, one hand to her face.

This moment stretches. I feel small and scared and alone, and everything is big and loud and wrong. Too many people, all pushing, pushing. The whistle shrieks for me.

I take some big breaths. She said I love you. That must be it. I hold my case very tight, and climb onto the train.