On the Run from 1939

Two

“So, what brings you here?” I say, “I do not remember inviting you to the funeral.” The word funeral sends a shock towards my heart, causing me the agonising internal pain all over again. Simon looks towards Edward’s limp body. So do I.

 “I’m sorry for your loss, Clara.” He says.

“It is okay, Simon. You did not know.” Looking up, I see Mother and Father talking together. They talk about what state they think the house will be in. Will it be standing, or will it be thrashed into tiny pieces? Will we be living in the comfort of our own home, or having to find refuge somewhere new?

 “Mother, Father. Meet Simon.” I say, introducing them to my new acquaintance. Simon stretches his hand towards them and they both shake it. First Father, and then Mother. However, they are hesitant. They look him up and down before even thinking about touching him. Mother stares at his hands, and I follow her gaze to see his obsidian black hands and tattered clothing.

“So, boy, what is your last name?” Father asks.

“Appleby.” Simon replies, anxiousness in his voice. Mother and Father turn towards each other and converse, quietly so no-one can hear their whispers.

“So, Simon, why are you not in your Anderson shelter at home?” I ask, intrigued to know more about him.

“I was just taking Bella here for a walk and the siren went off. Just ran to the nearest shelter.” He replies, stroking his dog as he says her name.

“She is beautiful.”

“Yeah, she is.” Simon carries on stroking her as I gaze towards him. His brown eyes, as brown as chocolate. His hair, looks as soft as silk. His ripped trousers reveal a cut on his knee, lightly bleeding.

“Simon, it seems you have a cut on your knee.” I say, pointing towards it. Simon looks down at it.

“Oh, that’s nothing. It’ll heal.” He says, but he still looks worried as he looks back towards me, looking at me.

“Okay.” We sit together in silence, just looking at each other. He awkwardly breaks our look as he looks towards Bella again. “I am going to sleep,” I say, but not wanting to stop talking to Simon, getting to know him. But I know I must sleep. “Goodnight, Simon.”

“Night.”

When I awake, I see many people have left, but Mother has shaken me awake. “Wake up, Clara.” I slowly pry my eyes open, wanting to stay in my torpidity. “You slept through the siren. We can leave now.”

I sit up and look to where Simon was sat; find him no longer there. A sense of disappointment dashes over me. I wish he was still here, so we could talk and know each other…

“You are not thinking about that coalminer boy are you, Clara?” Mother lashes out, sounding bitter.

“What is wrong with him, Mother? Also, how do you know he is a coalminer?” I ask, but immediately regret asking.

“What is wrong with him? He is member of the Appleby family is what is wrong. They are a family of industrial coalminers. They are cruel and savage and I do not want you to have anything to do with them.”

I stand up, almost level with Mother and say, “But Simon is different, Mother. He seemed charming and understanding, the complete opposite to what you say.” Again, I regret it almost immediately.

“Do not back chat me, now, come on, your father is waiting outside.” Mother says and walks outside, gasping as she opens the door. I follow her and gasp too when I see the devastation that has been caused by the never-ending war…