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

was right. The silence was eerie. As though Mother Nature was holding her breath.

Shivering, Ronnie reached for one of her jumpers and slung it round her shoulders. She got out of bed and undid the hatch. Immediately a fall of snow dropped onto her head and she started to giggle.

‘What the hell’s going on?’ Angela’s peeved tones made Ronnie giggle even louder.

‘Oh, my God, it’s snowing,’ Angela said, looking horrified at Ronnie’s head.

‘You look like an old lady, Ronnie.’ Jessica sat up, joining in the laughter. ‘Literally with snow-white hair.’ Feeling for her bag she pulled out a gold compact, then snapped it open. She handed it to Ronnie. ‘Take a look at yourself in fifty years’ time,’ she said.

Ronnie threw her head back so that a lump of snow fell off, showering Angela.

‘You stupid girl,’ Angela said, furiously brushing the flakes away. ‘What did you want to go and do that for?’

‘To annoy you, of course,’ Ronnie said, still laughing when she saw herself in the tiny mirror. ‘I’m going to put my coat on and have a proper look.’

She quickly pulled on her socks and shoes, then threw on her coat and climbed through the hatch.

She gasped. It was as though she’d stumbled into fairyland. It was dark but there was still a crescent moon, and its soft light glistened on every tree, every branch, every twig that was covered with snow. It was such a beautiful sight that Ronnie’s mouth opened, causing her breath to puff out in hazy rings. There was no sound of the usual gentle lapping of the water at the sides of the boat. No sound of any creatures. Any not already hibernating would be hidden away in this weather, she thought, hoping it wasn’t cold enough to kill them.

‘Come down, Ronnie,’ Jessica shouted. ‘Put your proper trousers on and some more jumpers or you’ll catch your death. We don’t want another casualty.’

‘All right.’ Ronnie came down the steps shaking the snow from her raincoat.

‘Couldn’t you have done that outside?’ Angela demanded.

‘No. Jessica’s right – it’s much colder than I thought.’

‘I’m getting up,’ Jessica said. ‘Someone needs to start the porridge.’

‘It’s not even six o’clock,’ Angela grumbled. ‘I’m going to have another hour.’

‘Fine.’ Jessica hopped out of bed and pulled on her tartan dressing gown, then pulled the pipe cleaners from her head and ran her fingers through her hair, shaking it and letting the golden waves tumble to her shoulders.

She looked lovely, Ronnie thought. For an instant she wished she hadn’t cut her hair quite so short. She could easily be mistaken for a boy in her filthy clothes. But every time she changed into clean clothes the new set became just as disgusting by the end of the same day. Maman would go on and on if she saw her like it.

Ronnie pictured Suzy looking glamorous in her evening dress, singing her heart out to the weary soldiers. It must be heaven to have a proper bath, wash her hair with shampoo instead of soap, wear something pretty for a change. Just to see what it felt like. She wouldn’t want it all the time – of course not, she told herself fiercely. But just to experience it occasionally. Even Raine in her uniform had looked fabulous when they’d met in London to go and see Mrs Hunter about working on the canals. If anything, the uniform made her look even more feminine. Well, uniforms and evening gowns weren’t her at all. She was always happier in trousers.

After breakfast when Ronnie was washing the dishes, Dora banged on the side of the boat to let them know she was coming in.

‘It’s very slippery out there,’ she warned as she stepped into the cabin, ‘so watch yerselves. We won’t be goin’ nowhere today – maybe not even termorrer if the snow don’t let up. We’d never see where we was headin’.’ She looked at Ronnie. ‘Yer might have yer wish after all,’ she added, ‘unless we see one of the boaters comin’ the other way ter give us some news.’

But all was quiet on the canal. They didn’t spot another boat that day or the next.

‘The boaters know in advance what the weather’s goin’ ter do,’ Dora said. ‘It’s typical of ’em ter make theirselves scarce. They’ll all be in the pub!’

Ronnie thought she would go mad with Angela’s moaning and groaning, often complaining about Lucky in an undertone, but managed to bite her tongue, though Jessica was more vocal.

‘I could cheerfully wring her bloody neck,’ she said to Ronnie when Angela decided to go and inspect the weather situation for herself. ‘Who does she think she is?’

‘Somewhere above us,’ Ronnie said.

‘Speak for yourself.’ Jessica’s eyes flashed. Then she looked contrite as Ronnie flinched. ‘Sorry, Ronnie, that didn’t come out how I meant it. You’re as good as me any day of the week. And by the way, I don’t mind you calling me “Jess”.’

‘I didn’t think you would,’ Ronnie grinned, wiping down the wooden top they used as a draining board, and hung the wet cloth over the handle of the kettle. ‘I just want May to come back. She was such fun with her ukulele. Maybe we’ll ask her to give us a tune this evening after supper.’

‘She won’t want to brave the slippery gunwale holding an instrument.’

‘Then we’ll go to Persephone,’ Ronnie said decisively.

But to her disappointment, May said she really wasn’t in the mood. The only good thing was that Jessica had more time to be experimental with the cooking. Until the third day when she said she was running out of ingredients.

‘Yous’ll need to stock up,’ Dora said when she arrived the same minute Jessica was flinging open the cupboards and swearing that there was nothing to make for supper.

‘How? We can’t walk to the village in this weather.’

‘That’s the reason yer was told ter bring boots,’ Dora said. ‘Those brogues yer wear are for summer when yer doin’ this sorta work.’ She looked at Ronnie. ‘And