The Runaway Children

by Sandy Taylor

  Olive picked up the teddy and stroked its fur.

  ‘Do you like him?’ said the woman.

  Olive nodded. ‘But not as much as I love Auntie Missus.’

  Normally I would have told her that that was a rude thing to say, but I didn’t.

  ‘Perhaps Auntie Missus would like to sit with teddy,’ said the woman, reaching for the doll.

  Olive backed away from her and clutched the doll close to her chest. ‘I have to keep Auntie Missus with me in case she gets lonely.’

  ‘Why do you call your doll Auntie Missus, Aggie?’ asked the woman, kneeling in front of Olive. ‘That’s a very unusual name.’

  ‘The lady we were staying with gave this to Aggie for Christmas, she was very fond of her,’ I said.

  I could see by the look on the woman’s face that she didn’t like that.

  ‘I didn’t just like her, Nell – I mean, Angela – I loved her.’

  ‘Why are you running away then,’ asked the woman. ‘If you loved her so much?’

  I could see that Olive didn’t know what to say.

  ‘It’s a long story,’ I said.

  ‘Well, perhaps Aggie will tell me one day,’ she said, ignoring me and smiling at Olive.

  There was something wrong here: why did she say ‘one day’? There wasn’t going to be another day. I wanted to grab Olive and run. ‘Anyway,’ I said. ‘Aggie sleeps with me.’

  The woman’s face was like thunder when she looked at me.

  ‘Wouldn’t you like to stay in this lovely room, Aggie?’

  Olive looked down at the floor. ‘I sleep with… um…’

  ‘Have you forgotten your sister’s name?’

  ‘Of course she hasn’t,’ I said. ‘She’s just tired.’

  ‘Then perhaps you should both have an early night,’ she snapped.

  We walked out of the room and she slammed the door behind us. Without another word she stomped down the stairs, leaving us stood on the landing.

  We went into my room and sat on the bed. It was still light outside and far too early for sleep.

  Olive’s eyes filled with tears. ‘You know I said I liked her, Nell?’

  ‘Yes, love?’

  ‘Well, I don’t.’

  ‘Neither do I, that’s why we’re going tonight.’

  ‘I’m frightened.’

  ‘There’s nothing to be frightened of, Olive, I’ll look after you. Now I think we should try and sleep, then when we know she’s gone to bed, we’ll leave.’

  We lay in the bed wrapped in each other’s arms. Olive soon fell asleep. Her breath was warm against my cheek. My eyes were starting to feel heavy but I was too scared to close them, my ears alert to every sound in the house. I didn’t trust the woman downstairs one bit. Oh, Jimmy, where are you? Why didn’t you come? If you were here, you’d know what to do. I don’t know what to do.

  I must have fallen asleep because I suddenly woke with a start. I didn’t know what time it was, but it was dark outside. Olive was fast asleep; I would have to wake her soon. I got out of bed and put my ear to the door but I couldn’t hear anything. I went back to the bed and gently shook Olive. She opened her eyes and I put my finger to my lips. We put Auntie Missus in the pillowcase and tiptoed towards the door. I turned the handle as quietly as I could but it didn’t open: the door was locked.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  When I woke up again the sun was streaming through the window and I could hear noises coming from downstairs. I couldn’t believe we’d been daft enough to walk calmly into the house of a madwoman, because there was no doubt in my mind that she was mad. There were quite a few mad people in Rannly Court and Mum said they were more to be pitied than judged, but this was no time for pity. Clodagh wasn’t going to just let us go, of that I was sure. She wanted something and that something was lying asleep beside me. I shook Olive gently and she opened her eyes. I put my arms around her and she cuddled into me. I kissed the top of her head – her hair smelled a bit musty, which wasn’t surprising given that we hadn’t had a proper bath since we’d left the vicarage. I had to keep her safe; that was the main thing. I had to get her away from here. I felt hot tears behind my eyes. I wanted my mum’s arms around me, I wanted her to tell me that everything was going to be all right. I wanted to lay my head on her shoulder and smell home. I placed my hand where the locket used to be – how I longed to see my parents’ faces. I swallowed the lump in my throat. This wasn’t the time to feel sorry for myself – I had to be strong, I had to find a way out.

  Olive looked up at me. ‘What are we going to do, Nell?’ she whispered.

  ‘I’ll tell you exactly what we’re going to do, Olive. We’re going to act normal. You can do that, can’t you?’

  ‘I’ll try.’

  ‘You have to do more than try, love. If we’re going to get away from here you’re going to have to put on the performance of your life.’

  ‘What have I got to do?’

  ‘You have to look happy, as if you love it here; she mustn’t suspect that we know about the locked door, okay?’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Tell her that you want to stay here a bit longer.’

  ‘But I don’t.’

  ‘Neither do I and we’re not going to, but she has to think we want to. I don’t know how we’re going to get away but I want you to keep Auntie Missus close to you, because if we get the chance to run, we won’t be able to come back for the pillowcase.’

  ‘Okay.’

  I turned the handle on the door; to my relief it opened easily. ‘Now remember, Olive, look happy,’ I said.

  Together we went downstairs and into the kitchen.

  Clodagh was cooking something over the stove. ‘Good morning, sleepyheads,’ she said.

  ‘Something smells good,’ I said, forcing my face into a smile.

  ‘Are you hungry?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Olive, ‘really hungry.’

  ‘Good,’ said Clodagh, smiling. ‘Now sit yourselves down.’

  She’d lit a fire in the grate and the room felt lovely and warm. She was humming away as if she was a kindly aunt or something, instead of someone who had locked us in our bedroom. Somehow that made her all the more scary.

  ‘Can we stay with you a bit longer?’ Olive asked suddenly.

  Clodagh turned around and gave her a big smile.

  ‘Oh, Aggie, that would make me very happy.’

  I smiled at Olive; she was doing a great job.

  ‘And can I sleep in my own room tonight?’

  ‘Of course you can, darling,’ said Clodagh, putting a pile of pancakes on the table and adding a jug of yellow honey.

  ‘And once you’ve had your breakfast we can all go out into the garden and play a lovely game. Would you like that?’

  ‘I’d love that,’ said Olive.

  ‘Could I have a drink of water, please?’ I asked.

  ‘Of course,’ replied Clodagh, turning her back on us and going over to the sink.

  ‘Hide and seek,’ I mouthed to Olive.

  Clodagh came back with a glass of water and put it down in front of me.

  ‘My favourite game’s hide and seek,’ said Olive.

  ‘That was Christine’s favourite game too,’ said Clodagh.

  I gave Olive a warning look and she didn’t ask any questions, but I was pretty sure that the pink bedroom up the stairs had once belonged to a little girl called Christine, and this madwoman wanted to replace her with Olive. Well, that would be over my dead body lady.

  The three of us poured the golden honey over the pancakes. Clodagh giggled as it ran down her chin. ‘Isn’t this yummy?’ she said, smiling.

  I nodded.

  ‘Yummy,’ said Olive.

  After we’d eaten, we went out into the garden. It was a beautiful day, the sun was warm and there was a hazy mist drifting down over the hill. A swarm of midges hovered above our heads. It was a perfect early summer’s day – except there was nothing perfect about it.

  ‘Okay,
’ I said, ‘I’ll close my eyes and you two hide.’ I closed my eyes and started counting to a hundred. The first thing we had to do was gain her confidence, so we would have to play the game until she trusted us. ‘Coming, ready or not,’ I shouted. I could hear rustling in the bushes; Olive had never been very good at hiding. I parted the bushes and took her hand, and we started to look for Clodagh. I had the feeling we were being watched, as if Clodagh was testing us, so I winked at Olive and said, ‘Are you enjoying yourself, Aggie?’

  ‘Oh, I wish we could stay here forever, Angela.’

  ‘Perhaps we can,’ I said. ‘Would you like me to ask Clodagh?’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  We looked all round the garden but there was no sign of her. Then I heard a noise behind me as Clodagh ran through the garden and touched base.

  ‘I won!’ she shrieked, as if she was six years old and not a grown-up woman.

  ‘It’s your turn to count now,’ said Olive. ‘Because you won.’

  Clodagh looked wary, as if she was deciding whether that was a good idea or not.

  ‘That’s the rules,’ Olive insisted.

  Clodagh closed her eyes and started to count. We hid in places where she could easily find us. She was jumping up and down with excitement. ‘Isn’t this fun?’ she shouted.

  ‘My turn,’ said Olive.

  Clodagh grabbed me and pulled me behind the shed. I hated the feel of her hand in mine, it made my skin crawl. ‘I’m having the best time,’ she whispered, as we crouched down together. ‘Aren’t you?’

  For a moment I almost felt sorry for her. I guessed she’d been lonely but this was no time for pity. She was beginning to trust us; it wouldn’t be long now.

  Then it was Clodagh’s turn to count again. ‘Can we hide in the house?’ I asked.

  ‘What a wonderful idea,’ said Clodagh. ‘Of course you can.’

  She had her back to us and she was counting out loud. ‘Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen…’

  It was now or never.

  We tiptoed towards the gate, opened it as quietly as we could, and started running.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  We ran and ran, keeping to the edges of the fields. We pushed our way through brambles and we climbed over stiles. I kept looking back to make sure Clodagh wasn’t following us but there was no sign of her. I began to relax.

  ‘I’m tired, Nell,’ said Olive. ‘And so is Auntie Missus.’

  ‘I know you are, Olive, but we need to get as far away from Clodagh as we can. We’ll find shelter soon,’ I said. ‘Then you can rest.’

  ‘I can run a bit further,’ said Olive.

  ‘Good girl.’

  The light was beginning to fade from the sky by the time we spotted the building.

  We walked towards it – it was some sort of outbuilding, maybe another barn. It looked abandoned but we stood outside for a while until we were sure that there was no one around.

  ‘Come on,’ I said.

  It was pretty much the same as the barn where we had waited for Jimmy. It felt cold inside, as if it had never known sunlight. I shivered – we weren’t dressed for this. If only we could have brought our coats with us. Above us was a loft with a ladder leading up to it. I remembered Daddy once telling me that heat rises. I didn’t remember what we’d been talking about, but I remembered him telling me this.

  ‘We should go up into the loft, Olive,’ I said. ‘It will be warmer up there. Do you think you can manage the ladder?’

  ‘Of course I can, I’m not a baby, you know. And neither is Auntie Missus.’

  ‘Of course you’re not. Give her to me – it will be easier for you to climb.’

  Olive handed me the doll and started climbing. I went up after her. Daddy had been right; it was warmer up there.

  As we had nothing to eat or drink, there was not much for us to do. ‘We might as well sleep,’ I said. ‘Then we can make an early start in the morning.’

  Olive yawned. ‘I’m not a bit tired, Nell.’

  ‘Just try,’ I said, lying down beside her, ‘and tomorrow we’ll find some food.’

  I put my arms around her and stared up at the old beams above my head. Olive was soon breathing steadily and it wasn’t long before I joined her.

  * * *

  I was woken by a deafening sound that seemed to be coming from directly over my head. I looked at Olive, who was still asleep. I climbed down the ladder and went outside. Four planes were zooming low across the fields and disappearing over the hill. I couldn’t tell if they were ours or the enemy’s but it brought home to me the fact that there was still a war on.

  I felt wide awake as I gazed up at the sky, which was full of stars. It was beautiful and for a moment I felt a sense of peace that I hadn’t felt in a long time. I knew it wouldn’t last but I wanted to hold this feeling inside me for a little longer. I sat down on the ground and leaned back against the wooden barn. I thought about Mum and Tony and little Freddie. I thought about my good friend Angela and Mrs Baxter. I wondered if Lottie was happy in Cornwall and I wondered when I would see her again and when we would stand together at the edge of the ocean. And then I thought about Jimmy. Was he still at the farm, or had he run away to make his fortune? Would I ever see him again? How was he going to explain to Mrs Hacker what had happened to Albert? Mrs Hacker might not have been my favourite person in the whole world but Albert was her son and she loved him and she was going to be heartbroken.

  I wished for the millionth time that I hadn’t killed him. I still couldn’t believe that I had actually ended the life of another human being. Did I have to kill him? I could have just threatened to tell his mother, but when I saw what he was about to do to innocent little Olive, I saw red. I was angry, angrier than I had ever been in my whole life and, yes, in that moment, in that barn, I wanted him dead. I wanted him splattered on the ground. I wanted to bash his brains out, that’s what I’d wanted to do. We think we know ourselves, don’t we? But we don’t. We judge the murderers and the thieves and the beggars without knowing their stories. We judge them because we think we’re better than they are, that we’re the goodies in the white hats and they’re the baddies in the black ones. But now I knew that underneath my hat I was as capable of killing and thieving as the worst thugs in Rannly Court. So much had happened since we’d left Bermondsey, it felt like another life. I was just an ordinary kid when I’d said goodbye to Mum in the flat but now I was a murderer and I was on the run from the law. How the bloody hell had that happened?

  * * *

  We set off the next morning just as the sun was coming up over the hill. It was harder to walk fast today. Olive wasn’t running ahead of me like she was yesterday. We were both hungry and thirsty; we had to find food and water.

  ‘Do you know how proud I am of you, Olive?’ I said, as we walked along.

  ‘Why are you proud of me, Nell?’

  ‘Because you’re brave and strong and you deserve to be wearing that white hat.’

  ‘What white hat?’ she asked, puzzled.

  ‘The one that no one can see.’

  ‘You’re funny, do you know that?’ she said, giggling.

  ‘I do my best.’

  ‘You need some food, Nell, cos I think you’re going doolally.’

  ‘Do you know what, Olive?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’ve stopped swearing.’

  ‘I don’t think it will last, Nell, it’s just what my mouth seems to do.’

  ‘You make me happy, Olive.’

  ‘Well, that’s good then, isn’t it?’ she said, grinning.

  Eventually we came to a row of cottages. There was a girl of about my age hanging out some washing in one of the gardens. She had clothes pegs between her lips.

  ‘Excuse me?’ I said.

  She looked at us and took the pegs out of her mouth. ‘Can I help you?’ she questioned.

  ‘Some water, if you can spare it.’

  She walked across to us.

  ‘You’re
not spies, are you?’

  ‘No, we’re not spies,’ I said.

  ‘You can’t be too careful these days.’

  ‘We’re definitely not spies,’ I said. ‘We’re just thirsty.’

  ‘No. You don’t look like spies, but then again how are we supposed to know what a spy looks like?’

  ‘Tricky,’ said Olive.

  She must have decided we weren’t spies because she said, ‘You can come in if you like, me mum’s not here.’

  ‘We’d rather not if you don’t mind,’ I said.

  ‘We’re not good with cottages,’ said Olive.

  ‘Fair enough,’ said the girl, grinning. ‘Well, come into the garden at least.’

  I opened the gate and we went in.

  ‘Are you hungry?’ she asked.

  I nodded.

  ‘Okay, wait here.’

  We watched her walk into the house. ‘Do you think she’s okay?’ said Olive. ‘She’s not going to come back out with a shotgun, is she?’

  ‘You’ve got a very vivid imagination, Olive.’

  ‘After what we’ve been through I don’t trust anyone, Nell. Especially people what live in cottages.’

  ‘Perfectly understandable,’ I said.

  ‘Best be on our guard,’ said Olive seriously.

  The girl came towards us carrying a tray. To our delight there was bread and cheese, Welsh cakes and two cups of water.

  ‘Mam made these cakes before she went out,’ she said, grinning.

  ‘What’s your name?’ I said, taking the tray from her and putting it down on the grass.

  ‘Annadwen,’ she said.

  ‘Anna what?’ said Olive, screwing up her nose.

  ‘I know, bloody awful, isn’t it? I don’t know what my mother was thinking. It means “goddess of poetic inspiration”. Never read a poem in my life!’

  ‘Well, maybe you should start,’ said Olive. ‘You might turn into a goddess. I wouldn’t mind being a goddess.’

  ‘Well, I think it’s pretty,’ I said.