Isabella Rockwell's War by Hannah Parry Page A

Isabella.”
    “And if you’d
been a boy?”
    Isabella
wrinkled her nose.
    “Edwin.”
    Alix smiled,
eyes dancing.
    “You had a
lucky escape, then. Maybe I shall call you Edwina instead.”
    “Not if you
want to live,” Isabella replied idly.
    Alix laughed
out loud, and put her hand on Isabella’s good shoulder.
    “It’s so nice
to have someone my age to talk to. It can get very dull around
here.”
    “Alix, I’m
sorry, but where are we? Also, I can’t find my bag and I wondered
if you knew what had happened to it?”
    Alix smiled, a
hesitant smile, as if she had news, which she felt might not be
well received.
    “Sorry, of
course. Your bag was taken by the littler of the two boys and, I
suppose it’s not obvious, but you are in Kensington Palace. I am
Princess Alixandrina. I probably should have told you this
before.”
    Alix looked so
fed up with this admission, Isabella couldn’t help feeling sorry
for her.
    “I thought you
were when I saw what your father had written in your book. Don’t
worry. I remember my father’s soldiers talking of the little
princess. They must have meant you.” Isabella’s words were gentle,
but tears still sprang to Alix’s eyes and her face clouded
over.
    Isabella found
herself taking Alix’s hand.
    “I know how
you feel. My father is dead too and my friend, Abhaya, who raised
me. You were right. I am alone. No matter how hard I try to pretend
I am not.” Isabella sighed. “Still, I have a plan and I hope to
return to my home soon.”
    Alix looked up
through her tears.
    “Where is your
home?”
    “India.”
    Alix smiled
and rubbed her eyes with her sleeve.
    “How
romantic,” she said. “My mother and father visited India and they
said it was the most beautiful place they’d ever seen.” So for the
next hour, Isabella gave into her homesickness and told Alix of her
life at home; of her dear father, of Abhaya and her cooking, and
Bumblebee the pony, of scorching sunsets and purple nights and
finally of the dreaded cholera and all the things which had brought
her here to this place.
    “No wonder you
want to go home,” said Alix in a small voice, “it sounds like
paradise.”
    Isabella
smiled.
    “Well, not
always… I used to get in trouble from time to time,” she said with
a mischievous grin, “and I didn’t have a mother either, but with
Abhaya, I didn’t really ever need one.” Her face fell. “I can’t
believe she’s no longer there.”
    An
Abhaya-shaped hole yawned before her. Alix thrust a cup into her
hand, filled with a steaming sweetness. So engrossed was Isabella
in her story she hadn’t noticed a maid bringing in hot
chocolate.
    She wondered
why she’d told this girl so much? Was it because they shared the
same loss? Or was it Alix’s kind face, and that shadowy hint of
things not quite as they should be, which made Isabella think Alix
had her own secrets, and was therefore safe to talk to?
    Both probably,
Abhaya would have said.
    “You could
come and visit me one day, if you would like to?” Isabella offered
shyly.
    Alix’s face
lit up.
    “I would love
to.” She leant forward and pulled a fabric bell-pull. “Now, how
about a bath?”
    Isabella
puffed out her cheeks and blew out.
    “I suppose I
should, but what about my arm.”
    Alix looked at
her.
    “Your arm will
be fine. You have to have luncheon with everyone so you’d better be
clean for that. There’s already been a huge fuss about you being
here. Let’s not give them any more ammunition than we need.”
    Isabella
perked up. She liked a good fight.
    “Who are
they?”
    Alix stood up,
brushing down her dress.
    “You’ll see,”
she said darkly.
    Isabella lay
in the scented hot water for as long as the little maid, Bea, would
allow her. She liked Bea, who didn’t flinch even when the water
turned dark as they washed her hair, which took three shampoos
before it would lather.
    “Shall we get
out now miss? Here step into this towel. Mind yourself now though,
don’t bang