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“And you have all your things? You’ve remembered all your clean clothes and books?” Mark’s mother asked, kissing him on his forehead. He pushed her away quickly, afraid that the other children would all be watching.
None of the other children were paying attention to him though; they were all hugging their parents through dripping tears. Suddenly Mark felt sad, afraid that he would never see his mother again as he ran up to her and wrapped his arms around her. She seemed to understand what he was thinking, rubbing the hair on his head while hugging him tightly back.
“You’re going to be okay, right Mummy?” Mark asked, looking up at her.
“Of course I will,” she nodded, kissing his forehead one last time. “Now quick, onto the train before it leaves.”
Mark clambered onto the train, pulling his suitcase with him as he stared back at his mother. She smiled and waved at him as the train began to pull away, Mark biting down on his lip to stop himself from crying in front of the other children before he decided to go and find a place to sit.
Picking a seat by a window, Mark watched as first ruined buildings and then green hills rolled pass him quicker and quicker. It looked so quiet and peaceful. Mark stopped looking out of the window and turned his gaze to his fellow passengers.
A brother was trying to comfort his younger sister several seats away, holding her tightly as she sobbed for her parents through the front of the boy’s shirt. Mark felt his own stomach twist and turn. He hadn’t wanted to leave and his mother said she wasn’t going to make him.
Then the bombs fell from the sky. One had hit Mr Trevor’s shop and all Mark’s favourite sweets had disappeared. Another had even hit his school and destroyed all his drawings. Every night he found it hard to fall asleep, thinking that a bomb might fall on his room and his mother decided it was time for him to leave.
As the train began to slow down after several blurry hours, Mark jumped out of his seat and walked to the doors, heaving his suitcase with him. All along the platform of the station stood adults and children, eagerly watching the train come to a halt.
Some of them were carrying little pieces of card and Mark noticed for the first time that his own suitcase had the exact same card wrapped around the handle. Shoes thudding against the concrete of the platform, Mark took one step forward before a policeman looked at his suitcase and checked the number upon the little card.
“Nineteen,” he muttered, looking at a piece of paper. “Ah, you’re with the Jones’s. They’re over there. Nice big farm, you should enjoy it there.”
Mark could hardly believe his ears. He was going to live on a farm. He had never even seen a cow before except from pictures in his school books and now he was going to live with them. He couldn’t wait to write a letter to his mother to tell her about that. Taking in a deep breath, he thanked the policeman and walked towards where he had pointed. He was ready to meet his new billet family and he was going to be brave, he wasn’t going to cry.
Here is Richard reading the story to you.
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