One Shot Kill - Robert Muchamore Page 0,20
much. When Rosie quizzed him about where they’d be getting off he gave the name of somewhere that wasn’t on her map and said that the local farmers sold goods at a market in Rennes. But he’d never been there himself, so he wasn’t sure how long the journey took.
Still, anywhere near Rennes was well out of the military zone. Rosie had to take a punt on finding Edith a doctor who wouldn’t report her to the Gestapo wherever she wound up, which made sticking with Justin at least as good a choice as any other.
It was near dawn as the train left its single track and merged into the regular railway. Rosie hoped they’d soon pass a station, which would give her a better fix on her location, but within a minute the wagons shuddered to a halt and the brawny steam engine began refilling its water tank.
‘You’ve gotta run in case there’s railway cops,’ Justin explained quietly. ‘Go down the embankment. I’ll meet you at the bottom.’
Water gushed from the tower twenty wagons ahead as Rosie lobbed her backpack through trackside bushes. While she bent to pick Edith up, Justin had clambered inside a coal skip and began hurling out sacks, each filled with as much coal as he could lift.
The embankment was too steep to navigate with Edith over her shoulder, so Rosie slid down on her bum, left Edith at the bottom then went back for her pack. When she returned, two little girls were dragging coal sacks over a weed patch, while the youngest – who looked about three – stood with hands on hips gawping at Edith.
‘Don’t touch,’ Justin said, before dumping his smallest sack of coal at the little girl’s feet. ‘Drag that back to the house, before I kick you up the bum.’
The girl knew the threat was a joke and poked her tongue out at her big brother.
Rosie picked Edith back up, while Justin burdened himself with Rosie’s pack and dragged a coal sack with each hand. Home was a terrace of three tatty cottages, less than fifty metres from the tracks.
‘Don’t leave me behind,’ the tiny girl ordered, making Justin look back and blow a big fart noise at her.
‘I’m telling Mummy!’
‘Tell her,’ Justin said cheerfully. ‘I don’t care.’
The coal sacks were piled in the hallway as Rosie entered through the back door. A huge hole in the roof sent dawn light down a staircase sprouting moss, and Rosie noted that the three girls looked exactly like their big brother.
‘Dump Edith in the armchair,’ Justin told Rosie, then grabbed his oldest sister, who was eight. ‘Agnes, run into town and get Dr Blanc.’
‘Say that Justin is hurt,’ Rosie added, as she put Edith down. ‘Don’t say anything about us being here.’
Agnes looked at her brother for confirmation.
‘Do exactly what she says,’ Justin said firmly.
‘Who are they?’ the girl asked warily. ‘What will Mummy say?’
Justin pointed at Edith, then raised his hand threatening a slap. ‘That girl could die. Just get Dr Blanc, and don’t let that nurse fob you off, even if you have to bite her.’
As Justin knelt down to unlace his boots, he told middle sister Aimée to fetch him a bucket of water to wash with, then told little sister Belle that she was a good girl for helping bring in the coal, and gave her a square of the high-energy chocolate.
‘Suck don’t bite, and don’t tell your sisters,’ Justin said.
He then moved in to kiss Belle, but she backed off yelling, ‘You’ll make me dirty!’
Rosie spoke as Belle squatted beside Edith’s chair and took an experimental lick of the chocolate. ‘Does your mother work?’
‘There’s a small German garrison not far from here,’ Justin said, sounding embarrassed. ‘Mum cleans for them, and does laundry and stuff. But she doesn’t like them.’
‘She says they’re pigs,’ Belle said.
Justin turned and spoke sharply. ‘Belle, what have I told you about repeating things? If someone outside hears that you could get Mummy into trouble.’
Aimée was at the back door with a bucket of water, but Justin pointed Rosie towards it.
‘Ladies can wash first.’
Aimée put her hand over her mouth and giggled. ‘You being polite. That’s a first.’
‘I’m always polite,’ Justin said.
‘You never say ladies first to us.’
‘Because you’re not ladies,’ Justin snapped back. ‘Make yourself useful, cut us some bread.’
‘I’m not your servant,’ Aimée said, but still went into the kitchen to do it.
Rosie had given her only spare dress to Edith, so she couldn’t change out of her combat gear