The Escape - Robert Muchamore Page 0,58

he knew that the old lady had a good heart and a week had been enough to get used to her eccentricities.

‘I’ll miss you and your sister when you go,’ Yvette said.

‘We’ll write to you from England,’ Paul said brightly, but the prospect of leaving made him sad. The Dorans’ cottage was a comfortable refuge from the war and much as he wanted to fulfil his father’s wishes and return to Britain with Mannstein’s documents, he wasn’t relishing the prospect of more refugee-strewn roads and a potentially dangerous sea voyage.

‘You can stay down here and draw for an hour if you want before bedtime,’ the old lady said.

Paul shook his head. ‘I’ll just say goodnight to the Father, then I’ll go upstairs and help Rosie pack.’

He walked from the kitchen to the living room, but found the retired priest asleep in his armchair with a newspaper strewn over his lap and reading glasses balanced on the tip of his nose. Paul didn’t want to disturb him, so he crept upstairs and found Rosie. Strands of wet hair hung down her nightdress as she arranged clean clothes inside a suitcase. Hugo always seemed to find a second wind around bedtime and he was jumping energetically on the bed.

‘How’s it going, sis?’ Paul asked, as he broke into a yawn.

Rosie shrugged. ‘Not too bad. Henderson said he was coming by car, so we should be able to carry everything we want.’

‘That’s good,’ Paul said, as Hugo did the splits and crashed off the end of the bed, hitting the floor with a thud.

Rosie rushed over to pick him up. ‘I told you that would happen if you went crazy,’ she said pointedly.

The youngster had banged his knee quite badly, but he didn’t want to admit that Rosie was right so he fought off the urge to sob.

‘All right, bossy-boots,’ Hugo groaned, as he dived face first on to his bed of old sofa cushions. ‘You’re no fun!’

‘You’re like a rubber ball,’ Paul grinned. ‘We could drop you from the top of the stairs and you’d probably bounce.’

‘Why have you two got to go?’ Hugo asked seriously, as he rolled on to his back and brought his leg up to inspect a graze on his knee.

Rosie had explained already, and whilst she liked Hugo, he did tend to get on your nerves by the end of the day. ‘Because,’ she said firmly. ‘Now go to sleep.’

‘But why go?’ Hugo moaned. ‘I’ll have no one to play with.’

‘Hugo,’ Paul said firmly. ‘Everyone belongs somewhere. We belong in England. When your daddy comes back from being a soldier, you’ll belong with him.’

‘I don’t want him back,’ Hugo said, looking thoroughly disgusted. ‘I can come on the boat with you.’

‘But what about Yvette and Father Doran?’ Rosie said, as she closed her suitcase. ‘You like them and you like running around in the fields. And there are other boys in the village you can play with.’

‘I hate those boys,’ Hugo said.

Paul laughed. ‘How do you know that? You’ve never even met them.’

‘They’re smelly,’ Hugo insisted. ‘I like you two better.’

Rosie sensed that Hugo was going to end up crying and decided to change the subject. ‘I tell you what,’ she said. ‘It’s probably going to be our last night together, so why don’t you cuddle up with us?’

The six year old didn’t need a second invitation and he dived under the blankets at the bottom of the bed and then wriggled beneath the covers until his head emerged between the pillows at the top. Paul and Rosie smiled at each other, both wishing they were still young enough to get their kicks so easily.

Rosie turned to her brother as Hugo messed with the pillows. ‘I’m sorry about earlier,’ she said awkwardly. ‘I shouldn’t have ripped your drawing. You must have spent hours on that.’

‘I guess it was pretty sick,’ Paul said. ‘And sorry I called you fat. You’re not – obviously.’

Rosie laughed. ‘Remember when Dad used to tease me and say that I had good child-bearing hips?’

‘You used to go bananas,’ Paul said, smiling, before mocking his sister’s voice: ‘I’m not ever getting married. I’m not ever having horrible babies.’

‘So are you OK about tomorrow?’ Rosie asked when they’d finished laughing. ‘Or whenever Mr Henderson gets here.’

‘Kind of,’ Paul said. ‘Dad trusted him, so I reckon he’ll be OK.’

‘I wonder about later on,’ Rosie admitted. ‘I mean, Mum didn’t have anyone over here and Dad’s only got those weird second cousins up in Yorkshire.’

‘Freaks.’ Paul nodded.