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

‘You’ve gone awfully quiet, Ronnie,’ Jessica said as she laid the little table for their late supper while Sally was breaking the eggs into a basin. ‘Is it so difficult for you to admit to him that you were wrong?’

‘I just don’t know—’

A noise like a hundred lawn mowers sounded overhead. All three stared upwards.

‘DUCK!’ screeched Jessica.

There was an ominous silence and the cabin was suddenly plunged into darkness. Someone screamed. Ronnie felt the boat tip so hard she was sure it was about to go over. And then her head exploded as she was tossed to the floor and the whole cabin seemed to tumble down on top of her.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

‘Ronnie! Sally! You all right?’

It was Jess.

‘I’m okay,’ Sally’s voice sounded muffled to Ronnie’s ears. ‘But whatever it was knocked me flying.’

Ronnie tried to speak but it was just a whimper. She heard a scuffle, then another silence.

‘If only we could see.’ Jessica muttered a few more choice words. ‘Bloody torch – where the hell is it?’

‘One on the shelf … by the bed,’ Ronnie croaked, sitting up and spitting out dust and what felt like bits of plaster floating around her. She rubbed her stinging eyes. The shadowy figure of Jess shone a light on her face.

‘You sure you’re all right, Ronnie?’

‘I think so.’

‘I’m going to feel for the hatch,’ Jessica said. ‘Have a look outside.’

Ronnie heard her slide back the door. The cabin was immediately flooded with light and she stumbled onto one of the chairs.

‘There must have been some kind of explosion from one of the warehouses on the other side of the canal,’ Jessica called back. ‘It’s started a huge fire. The whole bank is lit up as light as day. I’m going to check Persephone. Won’t be a moment.’

Ronnie watched numbly as Sally swept aside broken crockery, books, wall plates, pots and pans, both lanterns … all had come crashing down and were now covered in a slime of food and filth and shards of glass. Thank God no one appeared to be injured although there was an odd throbbing in her hand.

‘Be careful, Jess,’ Sally called through the hatch. ‘There could be another explosion.’ She turned to Ronnie. ‘I don’t think she heard.’ Sally stopped in her tracks, alarm spreading over her features. ‘Ronnie, what’s happened to your face?’ She rushed to Ronnie’s side and smoothed her hair back. ‘You’re bleeding but I can’t see any cut. Where’s it coming from?’

‘I don’t know. I just rubbed my eyes.’ Dazedly, Ronnie held up her right hand, palm towards her face. It was as though she was wearing a bright red glove. As though in slow motion she turned it to show Sally.

She heard Sally’s gasp. Moments later Sally was kneeling down in the cramped space in front of Ronnie, attempting to wrap a tea towel round Ronnie’s hand.

‘Oh, don’t touch it,’ Ronnie shrieked as pain shot through her head and up her arm.

‘I’ve got to. I’ve got to stop the bleeding. Keep still and be thankful I’m a trained nurse.’

Ronnie gripped onto the chair with her good hand, desperate not to faint.

‘Is it bad?’ she murmured.

‘It’s not good,’ Sally said. ‘You’ve got a piece of glass stuck in your hand. I won’t be able to extract it. Even if I could you’d need stitches. We’re going to have to get you to the hospital.’

‘We don’t know the nearest one.’

‘Then we’ll call 999.’ Sally quickly rose. ‘Press the tea towel down just here—’ she demonstrated to Ronnie, ‘really firmly. And keep your arm raised above your head. I’m going to tell Jess to find the nearest phone box.’

‘She can take my bike,’ Ronnie said weakly. ‘But don’t be long, will you?’

‘Don’t worry. I won’t be two minutes.’ Sally disappeared.

Sally had left the hatch door open and Ronnie could hear the clanging of the fire engines. Was Jess right? Was it an explosion caused by chemicals or whatever they were storing in the warehouses? Or was it from a German bomb? She shuddered, then felt her head swim. I mustn’t faint – I mustn’t faint – don’t let me faint. The words tumbled over in Ronnie’s head. Don’t leave me on my own, Sally. I’m scared. She looked up at her hand. The blood had already soaked through the tea towel. She felt dizzy. Recite a poem.

She began out loud: ‘I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, there sleeps Titania sometime of the night.’

No, that wasn’t right. She’d left out some lines.

She could barely breathe with the smoke and dust swirling around her. She needed water. Somehow, keeping her hand in the air, she edged her way through the debris to the water can, but it had overturned and what was left of any water was in a slurry under her feet. What was that piece of paper? She bent down to see, but as she touched it with her good hand, it disintegrated into a pulp. In a sickening moment she realised it was Michael’s letter. She struggled back to her chair and began to cry, tears of frustration and pain and guilt. Her senses had been so stirred with having received his letter that she hadn’t taken in his address and could only remember Oxford. There was no way now of knowing where he lived. No way to answer his dear letter.

‘What’s the matter, Ronnie?’ Sally jumped the step down into the cabin and hurried over. ‘Don’t worry. The ambulance is coming. You’ll soon be right as rain.’

She couldn’t summon up the energy to tell Sally it was the letter, not her hand, that was breaking her heart. The next thing she heard was the sound of cloth being torn.

‘Here, Ron, let me look.’ Sally gently brought Ronnie’s injured hand down and glanced at the blood-soaked towel before letting it drop to the floor. ‘I’m going to wrap this new bandage round your hand quite firmly,