Orphans of the Storm by Flynn Katie

Author:Flynn, Katie [Flynn, Katie]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2010-12-22T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Debbie came round groggily. The darkness was total and she found she was freezing cold. She reached for her blankets, believing herself to be in bed, and turned her head to glance towards where the window should have been. It was not there, and neither were the blankets, but as she moved she felt someone touch her face very gently with something which was both warm and damp. A flannel? Had she been ill? Was it her mother gently stroking her cheek with a warm, wet flannel? She tried to speak, but at first no words would come. Instead, a tiny moan escaped her parched lips and was immediately echoed by someone near at hand. Debbie frowned. Where the devil was she? She had no recollection of what had happened, or where she was, but she knew now that she was not in bed, or even in her own room.

She put out a tentative hand and felt someone move against her, and all of a sudden memory came flooding back. She had been in the shelter, changing a baby’s nappy – she even remembered it was a baby girl – and then there had been a tremendous crash and she had felt as though a giant had picked her up, squeezed all the breath out of her, and hurled her into a dark pit.

Against her side, someone moved and gave a little whining moan. ‘Gwen? Gwen, are you all right?’ Debbie said tremulously. This time the words came out, but there was no answer. ‘Gwen, have you got the baby? I can’t . . . hang on a minute! Oh no, it’s all right, I’ve got her.’ She lifted up a bundle which had been sheltered in the curve of her body, and felt immeasurable relief as the child moved and then began a hiccuping cry. ‘Oh, and there was a dog . . .’ Despite the cold, the dark and the fear, Debbie chuckled. ‘I thought someone was wiping my face with a damp cloth, but of course it was the perishing dog licking my cheek.’ She was sitting up now, cradling the baby, and could feel the dog pressing against her. She put a comforting arm round its shaggy neck. ‘Are you all right, old feller? I wish I had a torch, but if we can find the curtain we can get back into the rest of the shelter and someone out there is bound to have a light.’

However, as soon as she began to move towards where she thought the curtain hung, she realised she had lost all sense of direction, for her seeking hand – she had the baby in one arm – found only concrete. Sighing, she called once more: ‘Gwen? Are you there, Gwenny? Mrs O’Shea? Has the blast sent you all deaf? It’s bloody dark here among the privies. Can’t one of you show a light to guide me back?’

It was some time before Debbie could face the terrible truth that she, the dog and the baby were completely cut off from the other inhabitants of the shelter.

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