Read Online Valentine Joe by Rebecca Stevens - Free Book Online Page A

a bunch of yellow flowers, like the ones she’d picked from the bank of the canal. What did Grandad say they were called? Celandines, that was it. She’d left some on the boy soldier’s grave.
    And then he looked up.
    He did.
    He looked up and he saw Rose. Their eyes met, and for a brief moment everything seemed to stop. The snowflakes froze in the air and the stars held their breath. Then the boy grinned, a cheeky, familiar grin as if he’d known her all his life, and the picture broke up and time moved on. The boy touched his cap with one finger in a little salute and hurried after the others, with his strange skipping march.
    For a second, Rose just stood there. Something had happened. She didn’t know what it was, but she had to find out. She grabbed the coat from behind the door and ran outof the room, pausing only to look back at the dog.
    â€˜Coming?’ she said.
    â€˜Wuff!’ He wagged his tail and followed her down the stairs, his claws clicking on the floorboards.

I t was dark on the staircase, so dark that Rose had to inch her way down, putting out one foot at a time to feel for the next step and keeping tight hold of the banister. She could feel her heart thudding in her ears, but it was more from excitement than fear. What was she going to find when she reached the square? Who were those men?
    Who was that boy?
    When she reached the first landing, Rose felt around for a light switch. The wall was rough under her hand and she couldn’t find a switch. It was probably just as well, she thought, she didn’t want to wake anyone. She made it to the bottom at last, reassured by the clicking of the dog’s claws on the stairs behind her. It wasn’t quite so dark down here. Moonlight was shining though the semi-circular window above the front door, filling the room with greyness and shadows and, as Rose stumbled to the door, she could hear the grandfather clock ticking in the dark.
    The dog watched as she fumbled with the iron latch. The door wasn’t locked. That surprised her. She would’ve thought Muriel was the kind of person to be extra careful about things like that. But maybe Ypres was the kind of place where no one ever locked their doors. Muriel did say it was very safe.
    The door swung open easily when she pulled it, letting a gust of snow-speckled moonlight into the hall.
    Here goes , Rose thought.
    She hugged the unfamiliar coat around herself, catching a faint dusty whiff of Parma violets, the previous owner’s perfume perhaps. It reminded Rose of the old-fashioned chalky sweets Dad used to buy her from their local corner shop. Then, the dog at her heels, she stepped out into the square.
    The cold took her breath away. The icy wind pulled at her hair, spattering her face with snowflakes that stung like sand.
    â€˜Wuff!’ The dog was looking up at her.
    â€˜What’s going on?’ she asked him. ‘What’s happening?’
    He wagged his tail and then – to Rose’s horror – turned and scampered off into the snow.
    â€˜Where are you going?’ she called. ‘Come back! Don’t leave me!’
    But he was gone, leaving Rose standing there alone, with the snow whirling around her. The square was deserted. There were no lights in any of the buildings, no sounds, no sign of the soldiers. Had she left her nice warm bed and come out in the middle of the night wearing nothing but her pyjamas and a manky old coat because of some stupid dream?
    But if it was a dream, where did the coat come from?And the room? Rooms didn’t just appear from nowhere. And then there was the snow.
    What about the snow?
    Rose turned her face up to the whirling snowflakes and breathed in the familiar smell of ice and winter. There was something else as well: a dark smell that was faint and powerful at the same time. It made Rose think of autumn and Bonfire Night and the sound of rockets screeching up over the London rooftops and exploding