Safe Harbour Read Online Free PDF Page B

eye make-up had streaked and blotched, as big tears slid down her face. She gripped her niece and nephew tightly.
    Sophie felt a strange shiver run down her spine as they watched the roof of the cinema collapse; the flaming curl of the metal seats on the balcony became visible for only an instant, before crashing down on the floor below.
    They were lucky. Next time they might not be.
    ‘That was too close,’ whispered their aunt, ‘much too close for comfort! I owe it to Libby to get you away from this. No more dilly-dallying. My mind’s made up. You’re going to Ireland tomorrow.’ 

CHAPTER 8
Farewell
    ‘It’s for the best,’ Mum whispered weakly. She looked a bit better. ‘He’s a good man, your grandfather, do what he tells you and don’t cause any trouble.’
    ‘We’ll be fine, we promise!’ Sophie tried to sound cheerful.
    Hugh was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding Mum’s hand like he was never going to let it go.
    ‘I’ll be back on my feet in no time, back to my old self,’ their mother tried to inject a note of optimism and confidence into her voice, ‘then I’ll come and get you.’
    ‘Yes!’ Sophie agreed.
    But the blue eyes were already tired.
    Nurse Harvey interrupted them. ‘Mrs Stokes is waiting for you both. Come on! Give your Mum a big hug and a goodbye kiss,’ she coaxed them.
    Sophie wished that her mother was stronger, and could tell her about their grandfather and Ireland and give them some clue about what to expect.
    Hugh was being brave, as brave as a seven-year-old who had lost his home could be. He buried his face in Mum’s nightie, then stood up stiffly, like a small wooden puppet, and made space for Sophie. She wanted to hug Mum so tightly, but instead she held her gently, taking in the smell of lemon shampoo, and the faint hint of talcum powder thatclung to Mum’s skin. She closed her eyes, locking every detail of her mother’s face into her memory.
    Nurse Harvey coughed. Her eyes were blotchy red.
    ‘Come on, Hugh!’ Sophie caught hold of his hand. ‘I’ll take good care of him, Mum, I promise!’
    Her mother nodded. Soon she would sleep. Sophie kissed her forehead, then turned away, pulling Hugh after her. She wanted this misery to end. Mrs Stokes was at the window, waiting. They had to go. Without any fuss they left.
     
    Despite the early hour there was already a queue outside Bury Street centre, gangs of kids with nervous mums and dads. Cases and holdalls and sacks and bags littered the pavement. Mrs Stokes hurried Sophie and Hugh inside to get their stuff.
    They had a small battered red case and a pillowcase tied with a piece of white string. Aunt Jessie had gone to their house and persuaded Mr Thompson, the street warden, to get them a few things. Some clothes, the photo of Dad in his uniform taken the day before he went away, an extra pair of shoes for Sophie. They each had a cardboard box holding their gas-mask hanging across their chest, and Mrs Stokes made them both put on their coats, as it was easier than carrying them. She took out a string and label and wrote Hugh’s name and destination and where he was coming from, and attached it to the toggle of his coat. She took one look at Sophie’s face and guessed, correctly, that the twelve-year-old would object loudly to being labeled like apaper package, and shoved the card and string back into her pocket.
    ‘All set?’ asked Mrs Stokes kindly.
    Sophie nodded. The line outside was beginning to move. Some of the mothers were walking along beside their children, others stood with tears streaming down their faces as the children began the walk to the station. Everyone was trying to be cheerful, but no one was succeeding.
    ‘Hugh! You’ve got to stick with me, we can’t get separated, understand?’ Sophie warned him. She was a bit worried. Hugh’s freckles were standing out, and he had gone a shiny, whitish colour. He was over-excited and over-anxious.
    In her mind Sophie tried to pretend that