Ring around the Rosie

Curtain corners

Oddie and Theo are arguing about something. I don't know. I don't know.

"I don't know."

"Rosie! We got bread last week and we ate it all, didn't we?"

"No, we've got some left. I want a sandwich."

"You can't have a sandwich, we finished all the bread."

"I told you."

"Hmph."

The argument ends as quickly as it began. and I still can't think straight. Ma is dead. Father's in the war. Kelly is dead. Who else can we go to? Who else has it taken? Everything seems heightened. The children are louder and the street is brighter and the smell is overpowering but my head is covered in a fog that I cannot remove.

Before I faint or start to cry I take the twins to the park. They fly across the wood chips like chirping birds and climb about all over the place. As long as they're happy and safe I could sit on this awful wooden bench for days. 

Father used to take me here. But he'd never let me go on anything. I wasn't allowed to climb, and he got annoyed when I'd run and scuff my shoes. The only thing I could go on was the swings, until he decided I was too grown up to be flashing my knickers to everyone. If only he could see Oddie now. Socks at her ankles; hair flying free; dress tucked into her knickers so she can better navigate the climbing wall. I wonder if we'd be better off without him.

I get about an hour of peace until they 'absolutely cannot stand being hungry anymore'. At home I give them the last slices of fruit cake. I don't like it much, and just nibble on some strawberries from the garden. My tummy barely manages that before I want to chuck it up into the sink. 

"Where's Mama?" Theo asks again. The question catches me off guard.

"She's not well."

"How not well?"

"She's very ill."

"Is she... will she die?"

I don't answer.

"Rosie? Will she die?"

"Theo, shush." Oddie answers it for me.

A tense silence fills the air. They don't know what's going on, and they don't know what to ask. In a moment of panic, I suddenly remember my friend Eve. She only lives a few streets down; it's not too far to walk with the twins. If she's alive, then we'll just stick with her. Her mum is nice. Realisation smacks me round the head: her mum has a telephone. 

The cake is barely finished when coats are pulled over grubby hands. The click of the door is accompanied by our feet on the road. The rhythmic accompaniment is just enough noise for me not to go mad. 

"Why are we going?"

"Eve is my friend. I want to make sure she's okay, okay?"

Theo slumps his shoulders. Obviously someone is very unhappy about not being able to eat their cake crumbs. He starts to say something back, but I make a face at him. And then we're stood outside Eve's.

My hand is raised; my fist clenched; ready to knock the door and I can't. I haven't thought this through- what if she's not okay? I can't lead the kids into this. Why do I never think anything through?! I run around like a bee, desperately trying to land on a flower that can actually help me. Seemingly impervious to my panic, Theo knocks for me. 

We wait a few moments, but nothing happens. I knock, louder this time, but still nothing happens. Oddie looks to Theo and then to me.

"Maybe they're out," he reassures.

"Maybe they're ill too." Oddie gets punched in the arm, but she scowls. "What's the point in lying? They might be,"

"Don't hit your sister." They start on each other now, pulling faces. I can see them but I'm not paying attention. With minds of their own my arms start moving. I barely know what I'm doing until I've uncovered the key and it's in the lock.

And then it's turning.

And then it's open.

School finished a week or so ago, and since we weren't allowed to leave the house under Ma's orders I haven't seen Eve for a while. Something told me she's still be alive, but now I'm not so sure. Whenever viruses went about, she never seemed to catch it. Yet her younger sister Freesia is the sickliest child I've ever met. 

Stepping over the doorstep is like stepping into a cave. The blackout curtains block all daylight, and only a thin shaft of light seeps in from where the corner has fallen. 

"Eve? Evie?"

I turn to rip the curtains off, and a flurry of dust falls with it. Starting to cough, the twins run into the room behind me and stop in shock. The thin mist dances around us before floating away. 

"Nobody's home." The whisper is barely audible over the deafening silence. We study the desolate living room for a few moments. Nobody alive, at least.