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Authors: Kimberly Brubaker Bradley
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said. “If you’re from the same place the boy’s from, nobody’s taught you proper manners either. You shake my hand, and you say, ‘Nice to meet you, Colonel McPherson.’”
I touched his gnarled dry hand. He snatched my fingers and shook them up and down. “Say, ‘Nice to meet you, Colonel McPherson,’” he ordered.
“Nice to meet you, Colonel McPherson,” I said.
“And it’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Ada Smith. If you’re a friend of Stephen’s, you must come around for tea.” He let go of my hand. I wiped it against my skirt, not because his hand had been dirty—it hadn’t—but because touching a stranger seemed like such an odd thing to do.
Stephen was grinning, as though he found the whole exchange funny.
“How come you didn’t go home?” I asked him.
“Oh,” he said, cutting his eyes toward Colonel McPherson, “Mam thought it better if I stayed here for a while.”
“No she didn’t,” I said. “She said—”
Stephen smacked me on the arm, hard. I glared at him. He nodded his head toward the old man, frowning. “What?” I asked.
“I’ll talk to you later,” Stephen said. “Later, okay?”
“Okay,” I said, still puzzled.
Back on the other side of the street, Miss Smith and Jamie stood in front of a second poster. “This one’s better,” Jamie said.
“‘Freedom is in peril,’” Miss Smith read. “‘Defend it with all your might.’”
It was better. “What’s ‘might’?” I asked.
“I might have some tea,” said Jamie.
“No—well, yes,” Miss Smith said. “But in this case, it means strength. Force. Defend it with everything you’ve got.”
“Freedom is in peril,” Jamie shouted, running ahead. He waved his arms wildly. “Freedom is in peril, defend it with everything you’ve got!”
“What’s ‘freedom’?” I asked as Miss Smith and I followed.
“It’s—hmmm. I’d say it’s the right to make decisions about yourself,” Miss Smith said. “About your life.”
“Like, this morning we decided to come into town?”
“More like deciding that you want to be a—I don’t know—a solicitor. When you grow up. Or, perhaps, a teacher. Or deciding that you’d like to live in Wales. Big decisions. If Germany invades, we’ll probably still be able to go shopping, but we might not get to decide much else.”
As usual, I mostly didn’t understand her, but I was tired of trying. “Stephen White has to live with a grumpy old man,” I said.
“I noticed,” Miss Smith said. “I’m sorry to see the colonel looking so frail. He was one of Becky’s foxhunting friends—one of the huntin’, shootin’, and fishin’ sort. I didn’t realize he was so old.”
“He made me touch his hand.” I shuddered.
“That’s just manners,” Miss Smith said.
“So he said.”
Miss Smith grinned. I didn’t know why. “Skeptical child,” she said, making me frown even harder. She grabbed the end of my plait and swung it. “ Your courage, your cheerfulness, your resolution”—she was saying it wrong. I scowled—“will bring you victory, my dear.”
We’d reached the greengrocer’s. Jamie waited for us, holding open the shop door. I flicked my plait away from Miss Smith. I wasn’t going to ask what any more words meant, I was so tired of words, but Miss Smith looked at me and answered my question anyway. “Victory,” she said, “means peace.”
A few days later the teacher who’d been with us on the train came by the house to say that school was starting. The village didn’t have an empty building big enough to hold the evacuated children, so the evacuees had to share the village school. The regular village students would attend with their regular teachers from eight until noon, and then the evacuees and the evacuated teachers would go from one in the afternoon until five.
The teacher gave Miss Smith directions to the school. “We’ll see you Monday afternoon,” she said to Jamie as she got up to leave.
We’d all four
I touched his gnarled dry hand. He snatched my fingers and shook them up and down. “Say, ‘Nice to meet you, Colonel McPherson,’” he ordered.
“Nice to meet you, Colonel McPherson,” I said.
“And it’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Ada Smith. If you’re a friend of Stephen’s, you must come around for tea.” He let go of my hand. I wiped it against my skirt, not because his hand had been dirty—it hadn’t—but because touching a stranger seemed like such an odd thing to do.
Stephen was grinning, as though he found the whole exchange funny.
“How come you didn’t go home?” I asked him.
“Oh,” he said, cutting his eyes toward Colonel McPherson, “Mam thought it better if I stayed here for a while.”
“No she didn’t,” I said. “She said—”
Stephen smacked me on the arm, hard. I glared at him. He nodded his head toward the old man, frowning. “What?” I asked.
“I’ll talk to you later,” Stephen said. “Later, okay?”
“Okay,” I said, still puzzled.
Back on the other side of the street, Miss Smith and Jamie stood in front of a second poster. “This one’s better,” Jamie said.
“‘Freedom is in peril,’” Miss Smith read. “‘Defend it with all your might.’”
It was better. “What’s ‘might’?” I asked.
“I might have some tea,” said Jamie.
“No—well, yes,” Miss Smith said. “But in this case, it means strength. Force. Defend it with everything you’ve got.”
“Freedom is in peril,” Jamie shouted, running ahead. He waved his arms wildly. “Freedom is in peril, defend it with everything you’ve got!”
“What’s ‘freedom’?” I asked as Miss Smith and I followed.
“It’s—hmmm. I’d say it’s the right to make decisions about yourself,” Miss Smith said. “About your life.”
“Like, this morning we decided to come into town?”
“More like deciding that you want to be a—I don’t know—a solicitor. When you grow up. Or, perhaps, a teacher. Or deciding that you’d like to live in Wales. Big decisions. If Germany invades, we’ll probably still be able to go shopping, but we might not get to decide much else.”
As usual, I mostly didn’t understand her, but I was tired of trying. “Stephen White has to live with a grumpy old man,” I said.
“I noticed,” Miss Smith said. “I’m sorry to see the colonel looking so frail. He was one of Becky’s foxhunting friends—one of the huntin’, shootin’, and fishin’ sort. I didn’t realize he was so old.”
“He made me touch his hand.” I shuddered.
“That’s just manners,” Miss Smith said.
“So he said.”
Miss Smith grinned. I didn’t know why. “Skeptical child,” she said, making me frown even harder. She grabbed the end of my plait and swung it. “ Your courage, your cheerfulness, your resolution”—she was saying it wrong. I scowled—“will bring you victory, my dear.”
We’d reached the greengrocer’s. Jamie waited for us, holding open the shop door. I flicked my plait away from Miss Smith. I wasn’t going to ask what any more words meant, I was so tired of words, but Miss Smith looked at me and answered my question anyway. “Victory,” she said, “means peace.”
A few days later the teacher who’d been with us on the train came by the house to say that school was starting. The village didn’t have an empty building big enough to hold the evacuated children, so the evacuees had to share the village school. The regular village students would attend with their regular teachers from eight until noon, and then the evacuees and the evacuated teachers would go from one in the afternoon until five.
The teacher gave Miss Smith directions to the school. “We’ll see you Monday afternoon,” she said to Jamie as she got up to leave.
We’d all four
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