A Sister's War by Molly Green (the reading strategies book txt) 📕

as though she were alone in the world with only that frightened bodiless voice.

‘Margaret! I’m coming!’ she shouted again.

‘Ronnie?’ It sounded as far away as a whisper – but she heard.

‘Yes, it’s me,’ Ronnie called, relief flooding through her bones as she waved her torch this way and that. ‘Can you stand to let me know where you are?’

‘No.’

Margaret’s voice was stronger now. She must be on the right track.

‘Are you hurt?’ Furious with the dim light of her torch, she tore off the regulatory tissue covering, and shone it in the direction the voice seemed to come from, trying desperately to pick out Margaret. And then she saw an arm reach up.

‘I see you,’ Ronnie called. ‘Hang on.’

Two minutes later she was at Margaret’s side. The girl was sitting on the wet grass, her coat bundled around her, but with no hat or scarf. She was shivering violently. Ronnie put her hand out to help her to her feet, but Margaret screamed, ‘Don’t touch me!’

‘What is it?’ Ronnie said, shining her torch onto the girl. To her horror she saw that Margaret’s coat was dripping with water and her hair hung in wet strings. ‘Oh, Margaret, did you fall into the canal?’

Margaret nodded.

‘Here, before you say anything …’ Ronnie bent to unbutton Margaret’s coat, but the girl pulled back.

‘I want you to have my raincoat,’ Ronnie said.

‘N-no.’ Margaret clutched her hand to her chest. ‘You need it.’

‘I don’t. I’ve got three jumpers on.’ The small lie wouldn’t hurt.

‘No, I’m all right, honestly.’

‘You’re not,’ Ronnie said. ‘I shall get angry if you don’t let me get that coat off you.’

‘This is why I fell in,’ Margaret said. She opened the top buttons of her coat and a small black head peered out, its fur in wet spikes. It opened its mouth but no sound came out.

Ronnie peeled off her raincoat.

‘Give him to me,’ she said. ‘He’ll be fine underneath my jumper.’

Margaret handed over the petrified creature and Ronnie gently tucked him under her top jumper.

‘He’s not much more than a kitten,’ Margaret said through chattering teeth, as Ronnie draped her raincoat over the girl’s shoulders with her other hand. ‘Thank you,’ she managed.

‘What were you doing?’

‘I was going for a last walk along the canal and this man came along. He didn’t see me. He was carrying some sort of bag which he threw into the canal, then took off like a bullet. I was suspicious. Why did he act like that? Then I realised why. That bastard. This little creature would’ve drowned if I hadn’t rescued him.’ Even in the dim light Ronnie could see her eyes sparking with anger. ‘It was desperately trying to swim. It was quite near the bank but when I reached to save it I slipped in the mud and fell in the water. But I managed to get it in the end.’

‘We have to get you back and dried off,’ Ronnie said urgently. ‘You’re going to catch your death of cold if you don’t. I bet your clothes are sodden underneath. Mine were when I fell in.’

‘I can’t move,’ Margaret winced. ‘I must’ve twisted my ankle. The pain is awful.’

‘You’ll have to lean on me,’ Ronnie insisted. ‘We have to get back. You can’t sit on wet grass all night. Here, pull up by my hand.’

But when Margaret tried to take it, half standing, she fell back in a heap.

‘I can’t stand,’ she said. ‘Pain’s making me feel sick.’

‘You’ve got to try. We’ll both come down with a chill if you don’t. I’ll put my arm round you and you’ll have to hop.’

‘I’m sorry, I can’t.’

‘Then I’ll have to scream.’ Still holding the kitten firmly under her jumper, Ronnie cupped the other hand round her mouth and yelled as loudly as she could. ‘HELP! PLEASE HELP!’

But all she could hear was silence.

She began to breathe too fast. Surely the others couldn’t be that far away. She called again and again, but panic gripped her throat and stifled her voice. No one would be able to hear her. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears.

Someone please come … please come.

Did she hear voices? She cocked her ear. A muffled shout.

‘Here. We’re here!’ Ronnie croaked, waving her arms frantically.

‘Police!’ A man’s voice called some way away behind her.

She let her breath out in a gasp of relief as she whirled round to see a pinprick of light. And then it got brighter. A figure running over rough ground.

‘Constable Scott!’

He glanced at her. ‘Thank God you’ve found her!’ Then he hunkered down to Margaret. ‘What happened to you, young lady?’

‘Ronnie will explain.’ Margaret’s voice was thin with exhaustion.

‘She fell in the canal and sprained her ankle, and she can’t move. She’s soaking wet and needs to get dry quickly. But I couldn’t support her. We did try,’ Ronnie added defensively.

‘You’ll be fine now, Margaret,’ Constable Scott told her in a gentle tone, patting her arm. ‘Don’t you worry. I’ll soon get help.’ He put a whistle to his lips. ‘They won’t be long.’

‘Thank you, Constable,’ Margaret managed, her teeth chattering. ‘I’m just so cold.’

‘We’ll have you safely back to the boat in no time.’ His gaze flickered to Ronnie. ‘Why aren’t you wearing—?’

‘Shhhh,’ Ronnie hissed, jerking her head to Margaret’s wet coat, now in a heap.

Michael Scott nodded in understanding. ‘Then take mine,’ he said, undoing the belt.

‘No, I’ve—’ Ronnie began, pressing the kitten more firmly. It let out a howl of protest.

‘Ah, I see,’ he said. ‘But it’ll be easier keeping a cat inside a coat than up your jumper. And as you’re not in any shape to disregard my instructions, I’m ordering you to take my raincoat.’ He paused. ‘I’m better dressed than you. I’ve got a jacket on underneath.’

He handed it to her and reluctantly she took it and draped it round her shoulders as Margaret had done with hers.

‘Ah, here they come,’ he said as two dark figures pounded towards them.

‘Is she all right?’ The plumper of the two policemen gasped out