Fireweed Read Online Free PDF Page B

maybe set it off; well, you would have asked for it, wouldn’t you, so never mind what would happen to you; but you’d wreck a whole street full of houses, and maybe kill someone else who hadn’t asked for nothing. See? Now get moving.’
    But I just stood there. I was tired, and suddenly, I suppose, afraid. I must have looked it, too.
    â€˜I wonder what you’re doing here, anyway,’ he said. ‘You shouldn’t be here at all.’ Startled, I stared at him, guiltily. ‘They should have sent you away,’ he said.
    From behind me came footsteps, in clattering boots. His relief warden had arrived. As they greeted each other, and began to talk, I turned and wandered away, going idly down the street. On the doorsteps the milk bottles were standing, and as I passed number 40 a woman opened the door, and stooped, and took hers in. Her windows were all criss-crossed with brown sticky paper, and draped in white damask netting. A newsboy on a bicycle came towards me, stopping to push papers through the letterboxes. Down at the corner a policeman appeared wearing a soldier’s tin hat, instead of a familiar helmet. Beyond him was a small hut, with walls made of sandbags, and a fire burning in a bucket full of holes at the doorway. It had a notice on it, ‘Warden’s Post’. Beyond that again, I could see a long, low, windowless brick thing, standing in the middle of Station Road. That had S painted on it, in shiny grey paint. ‘S?’ I thought. ‘Oh, Shelter, I suppose.’
    Suddenly, as though I had been dreaming before, I saw how different it all was, how everything had changed. Here and there houses I had known all my life had crumbled away, fallen in a heap into their own basements, leaving a lost-tooth gap in the skyline, and all around me the adults were changed; all with tired faces, all busy, walking by me. The warden standing warming his hands at the brazier was only the school caretaker, wearing different clothes. He looked at me, but did not see me, or did not seem to.
    Then suddenly I thrilled with excitement, felt it tingling the length of my spine. I was free. Nobody was going to look after me; nobody was going to worry, or plan for me, or make me eat on time, or delouse me, or keep me safe from harm. They were all wrapped up in something else; they were all having the war. Well, I was going to have a war too; and my war was going to be just like theirs, staying in London, staying put.
    I was going to manage on my own till my Dad came home.

3
    Over breakfast in Marco’s I told most of this tale to the girl. She listened willingly enough. It was nearly a week later by then, and I had managed on my own all that time. I didn’t tell her how I had done it, because I wanted to make sure she would stay with me; I had been pretty lonely. She seemed willing enough about that too.
    When she had at last had enough of Marco’s coffee, we wandered out again, and strolled down to the Embankment, and walked along by the river. As we passed each lamp-post on the wall, those lamp-posts with sleek Dolphins wound around the bases, she patted the Dolphin’s nose. She smiled absently as she did it.
    â€˜I like them too,’ I said. She had rather long hair, dark, very straight, and she kept it tucked behind her ears, but a strand kept slipping free, and falling across her face, and then she tossed her head to get rid of it. A fierce little gesture, like a horse – she should have stamped her foot at the same time – but then her face appearing from behind the errant hair wasn’t fierce at all.
    â€˜What shall we do now?’ she said.
    â€˜Oh, we have time to spend. What would you like to do?’
    â€˜I’d like to go and buy some blankets. I was
very
cold on that platform last night.’
    â€˜We can’t
buy
them.’
    â€˜I told you, I’ve got plenty of money. Lots and lots.’
    â€˜However much you’ve got,