Valentine Joe by Rebecca Stevens Page A

trust these people?
    Joe squatted down and ruffled the dog’s head. ‘Don’tyou worry, Tommy mate,’ he said. ‘You’re among friends. This is Tonk. He’s the stupid one. And that one with the big ears and the daft face is Fred.’
    He looked up at Rose.
    â€˜And this—’ he began, looking round at the grinning faces of his friends, ‘this is—’
    He was interrupted by the violent ringing of a bell.
    â€˜Time to go, chums,’ said Fred. ‘Let’s get loaded up.’
    As they started towards the door into the barracks Tonk looked back. ‘Joe?’
    â€˜I’m with you, mate,’ he said. ‘Right behind you.’
    When they’d gone Joe turned to Rose. His face was puzzled. ‘They can’t see you, can they, Rose?’
    Rose shook her head. ‘No one can. Except you – and Tommy.’ Tommy wagged his tail at the sound of his name. ‘And children,’ she added. ‘Some children anyway. They can see me.’
    Joe took a deep breath. ‘Who are you, Rose? What are you doing here?’
    Rose shrugged. The sun was lower in the sky now and she was beginning to feel chilly. ‘I don’t know, Joe. I’m just – a girl.’
    â€˜You’re not just an anything, Rose. You’re an angel.’ Then he said, ‘My mum did send you, didn’t she? To look after me. My own Rose in no-man’s-land.’
    â€˜Don’t be silly.’ Rose was embarrassed.
    â€˜It’s true! I knew you was special when I first spied you looking down at me from the sky the night we arrived. It was the night before my birthday, wasn’t it? And you was going to give me a birthday kiss.’
    He looked at her, the smile fading from his face. Rose could see herself reflected in his eyes. Although she wasconscious of the distant boom of the guns at the Front, in that moment they seemed a long way away. She put a hand up to touch his cheek.
    â€˜Joe!’
    The moment was gone. Joe turned to the voice, impatient.
    â€˜I’m with you, Fred! I’m with you.’ He turned back to Rose. She felt very small, standing there in her borrowed coat. ‘I’ve got to go, Rose.’
    â€˜I know.’
    â€˜I’ll see you again, though. I know it.’
    â€˜Have you got your lucky sixpence?’
    He pulled it out of his pocket. ‘Course I have. I don’t need it, though. Not now I’ve got you.’
    He gave his funny little salute and headed off towards the barracks. Rose looked down at Tommy, who was looking up at her as if waiting to be told what to do. She crouched down beside him.
    â€˜Go with him, Tommy,’ she whispered. ‘Look after him.’
    Tommy didn’t hesitate. He trotted after Joe into the barracks, his claws clicking on the cobblestones. Rose waited until she heard the shouts of welcome as the soldiers greeted their new mascot, then she turned and started back to the city.
    Perhaps if she kept walking she wouldn’t start to cry.
    The sun was very low in the sky by the time Rose got back to the square. She sat down with her back against the last remaining wall of the clock tower and watched the activity around her. The procession of refugees had petered out but there was still a lot of movement: troops milling around, women and children being helped on to the backs of lorries, horses huffing and stamping. For the first timesince it all began, Rose realised how tired she was. She closed her eyes.
    A child’s voice was saying something, asking a question in Flemish. Rose opened her eyes. A little girl was looking down at her, a little girl with a green hair ribbon, her grubby face flat and curious – and familiar . It was the child from the café . Rose felt ridiculously pleased to see her.
    â€˜I don’t understand,’ she said. She didn’t want to frighten her again. ‘I’m sorry. I’m English.’
    The little girl