The Mind's Eye (2 page)
Authors: K.C. Finn
Tags: #young adult, #historical, #wwii, #historical romance, #ww2, #ya, #europe, #telepathic, #clean teen publishing, #kc finn
Frustrated I
thought harder, pushing myself deeper into his head, until I could
hear him fretting so loudly in my skull I thought my head would
burst. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, trying just
to whisper the words in my mind.
Behind your
left shoe.
Leighton
turned, looking to see where the voice had come from.
Left’s the
other way.
He turned
again and to my relief he immediately saw the paper on the ground.
As my brother bent to retrieve it I let him go, sinking back into a
dizzying blackness for a few seconds until I could see my own hands
over my eyes. I let my arms drop, taking a lungful of oxygen in
desperately. My head ached and my arms were limp at my side, but I
smiled at the sight of Leighton skipping back up the corridor
towards me with the slip of green paper in his hand.
Most of the
children had settled into sleepy little heaps by the time we
finally crossed the border into North Wales, which gave me some
time to recover from my little trip into Leighton’s head. I wasn’t
supposed to do things like that in public places. Nobody had ever
told me so, exactly, but then nobody else knew what I could do. I
just knew that the closed-eye deep breathing thing would look odd
to me if I saw someone else doing it, and God only knows what I
looked like when my mind was otherwise engaged.
Probably like
some great gawking ape, with my bristling curly hair the colour of
ginger biscuits flying out in all directions, my indigo eyes dark
and dead to all in my immediate space. I laughed to myself silently
so I didn’t disturb the sleeping masses. If those kids had seen me
use my ability, then they were likely to forget it, perhaps write
it off as teenagers just being odd and doing strange things. So
long as no-one important ever caught me, I’d be safe.
The train
guard re-entered the carriage with the jangle of keys, stepping
gently down the central aisle and shaking his head at the carpet of
labels under his feet. He caught my eye and gave a “Tsk, tsk”. I
just nodded politely whilst he approached.
the tremble in my chest as I gave Leighton a little push. He was
curled up on the seat beside me with his head in my lap. He
unfurled himself like a cat and rubbed his sleepy blue eyes as I
told him the news from the guard. When he’d got himself together he
nodded and climbed off of the seat so I could shuffle over to the
edge in preparation. Sure enough the train slowed a moment later
and the watchful guard crouched down beside me.
old guard took me down the steps from the carriage onto the
platform. Over his shoulder I watched Leighton scrambling down in
pursuit of him, clanking my poor metal wheelchair along behind him.
It hit every step on the way down, making me shudder.
already well away attacking the chair, pushing it to and fro until
he could slam down the middle and put the tubular frames in the
right places. The old guard looked relieved and impressed at the
same time as he set me down into the seat. I felt the redness
rising in my cheeks at his kindness. He patted me on the head and
straightened up.
around the dirty, smoky railway platform into the mass of
unlabelled children now wandering aimlessly along in clumps. The
billeting officer wasn’t hard to spot at all; he was the tall one
in the middle of a particularly large clump of younger children,
most of whom were crying. The billet man looked like he wanted to
cry too. He was an older man, though not as grey and bristly as the
train guard and as the bawling children were shuffled to and fro I
realised that he was wearing a policeman’s uniform under an open
beige jacket. I waved my green label towards his field of vision
just as the train guard said, but he didn’t notice us. The green
was supposed to signal us as a special case because of my chair. He
should have been looking out for us, but now I could see he was too
busy in the throng of cry-babies to even look up.
Eventually we
were introduced when the guard took us and our one suitcase over
into the eye of the child storm. I was wet from the explosion of
tears instantly, pulling a handkerchief from the pocket of my knit
jumper to wipe my face. It was always awful being at the same eye
level as small children and large animals. On this occasion I would
have preferred the large animals over this noisy mess of kids who
had just realised they wouldn’t be seeing Mummy again for a while
now that their train adventure was over. I couldn’t hear a word
that the billet man said over the din, but eventually he took
control of pushing my wheelchair and made off for the station
exit.
I turned
weakly in my chair to wave goodbye to the kind old guard, feeling
the noise of the busy platform fade away. My head felt normal again
at last.
was a terribly thick Welsh one and it was actually several minutes
after he had gone back to the station before I could translate
exactly what he had said and tell it to Leighton again. We were in
a little car park where a cold wind nipped against my stockings,
making my knees ache under my pleated skirt. I should have worn
something warmer. Mum was always telling me to worry about the
weather more. But then she wouldn’t have abandoned me in a car park
in the first place.
The flustered
officer assigned to help us on Evacuation Day was Officer Lewis.
When he returned, I was wheeled into the back of a large hospital
car especially built for the purpose. I had to admit the shiny
white car filled me with a little excitement. When Leigh came to
sit opposite me on a bench inside the back of the vehicle, he
looked around him with a big smile.
some time to translate, the way Lewis mashed all his words together
into a melodious jangle was hard on our London ears, but I got
enough words from the mix to know I shouldn’t expect a chauffeur.
Although I probably would be in this car quite often, given the
circumstances. The pin in my jumper where the green label clung to
me was starting to itch. I took it off gently, saving the pin
against the fabric strap of my gas mask holder and tried to read
the address we were destined for.
Ty Gwyn, Bryn
Eira Bach
That was it.
No borough, no postcode, not even a house number. I stretched
forward to give the paper to Leighton whose little eyes were
craning to see it. A lot of good it’d do him. He scrumpled his face
at the address.
his head round his seat, looking at the paper over Leigh’s little
shoulders.
Tee Gwin. I tried to remember it, murmuring it on my lips. It would
be so rude to say it wrong to the people who were kind enough to
take us in for the duration of the threat in London, perhaps even
for the duration of the war. Tee Gwin. The thought of a farm house
didn’t appeal in the least to me, all I could think of was how cold
and drafty it would be in the winter months, but Leighton was all
over the idea, scrambling up the bench to turn and talk to Officer
Lewis.
bitter taste in my mouth, but I smiled back before I looked out of
the window. Unless this distant village could somehow make me
able-bodied again and then give me a handsome young chap to go
dancing with, I knew that Lewis’s promises, and my hopes, couldn’t
ever come true.
private car took us an awfully long way from the station, over
sparse grassy hills and down little brown roads that led to yet
more hills. We had gone over so many bumps that I could feel the
restraints on my chair starting to loosen, but just as I began to
worry that I’d be flung out of my seat at the next bend, the car
finally stopped. Out of one window I saw a mass of misty fields
with the vague shadow of mountains in the background. From the
other I just caught sight of a lot of out buildings ranging in
shape and size. Barns and things, I supposed.
Ty Gwyn was
straight ahead of us, so I didn’t see the huge white building until
I was properly out of the car. Officer Lewis started to wheel me up
to it over the bumpy gravel path, jarring my spine with every
pebble. I tried to keep smiling and made sure my clothes and hair
were neat as we approached. When Lewis rang the doorbell the
ancient sound echoed out of the cracks in the wood around the
window panes. A few birds roosting in the eaves of the big white
farm house suddenly took flight, making Leighton jump. He shuffled
from foot to foot, biting his little pink lip.
The tiniest
girl I had ever seen answered the door. She was short and willowy
with huge blue eyes and tawny brown hair sticking up at funny
angles. Her plain little dress was stained with something that
looked like blueberries. She clung to its hem as she looked up at
Officer Lewis, then she suddenly broke into a great beaming smile,
showing off her stumpy white teeth.
pick out the English as usual, but this time I couldn’t. Leighton
gave me a wide eyed look, scrunching his nose.
girl scampered away, leaving the door wide open. I would have
waited, but Lewis seemed to take that as the invitation to go
inside. He wheeled me in over the bumpy threshold of the wide
farmhouse door and into a big reception space, adjusting Leighton
until he stood up straight beside me. Everything in this part of
the house was either black or white. Black tiles lined the cold
stone floor. White lacy doilies covered the shelves of an old black
dresser in the corner, next to an even older metal coat stand that
was ready to fall over with the amount of coats flung upon it.
I looked at
the steep, black stairs fearfully. If I was expected to climb them
every day and night, I would surely die before I even reached
breakfast tomorrow. My joints ached at the very prospect of
it.
accent echoing down the corridor was thankfully much clearer than
Lewis’s. She almost sang the words as she appeared from under a
white doorway right in front of us. The woman had a rosy face and
the same tawny hair as the little girl, though hers was pulled back
into a more practical style. She was older than Mum but younger
than Granny, with a cooking apron tied over her broad, rounded
figure. She had the kindest smile in the world as she approached,
rubbing her coarse hands together excitedly.
thought harder, pushing myself deeper into his head, until I could
hear him fretting so loudly in my skull I thought my head would
burst. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, trying just
to whisper the words in my mind.
Behind your
left shoe.
Leighton
turned, looking to see where the voice had come from.
Left’s the
other way.
He turned
again and to my relief he immediately saw the paper on the ground.
As my brother bent to retrieve it I let him go, sinking back into a
dizzying blackness for a few seconds until I could see my own hands
over my eyes. I let my arms drop, taking a lungful of oxygen in
desperately. My head ached and my arms were limp at my side, but I
smiled at the sight of Leighton skipping back up the corridor
towards me with the slip of green paper in his hand.
“
Kit, this came off,” he said as he waved it in my face, “Can
you pin it back on please?”
“
Perhaps I’d better keep it until we get off,” I suggested,
after which he immediately handed the paper over. I didn’t miss the
look of relief on his face.
Most of the
children had settled into sleepy little heaps by the time we
finally crossed the border into North Wales, which gave me some
time to recover from my little trip into Leighton’s head. I wasn’t
supposed to do things like that in public places. Nobody had ever
told me so, exactly, but then nobody else knew what I could do. I
just knew that the closed-eye deep breathing thing would look odd
to me if I saw someone else doing it, and God only knows what I
looked like when my mind was otherwise engaged.
Probably like
some great gawking ape, with my bristling curly hair the colour of
ginger biscuits flying out in all directions, my indigo eyes dark
and dead to all in my immediate space. I laughed to myself silently
so I didn’t disturb the sleeping masses. If those kids had seen me
use my ability, then they were likely to forget it, perhaps write
it off as teenagers just being odd and doing strange things. So
long as no-one important ever caught me, I’d be safe.
The train
guard re-entered the carriage with the jangle of keys, stepping
gently down the central aisle and shaking his head at the carpet of
labels under his feet. He caught my eye and gave a “Tsk, tsk”. I
just nodded politely whilst he approached.
“
We’ll be at your station in a few minutes, Miss Cavendish,”
the kindly old guard informed. He had a voice as smoky as the puffs
passing the train window. “You’d best wake your brother and I’ll
help you alight.”
“
Thank you sir,” I said with a small smile.
the tremble in my chest as I gave Leighton a little push. He was
curled up on the seat beside me with his head in my lap. He
unfurled himself like a cat and rubbed his sleepy blue eyes as I
told him the news from the guard. When he’d got himself together he
nodded and climbed off of the seat so I could shuffle over to the
edge in preparation. Sure enough the train slowed a moment later
and the watchful guard crouched down beside me.
“
If you’ll pardon me, Miss,” he said as he put one hand under
my knees. I said nothing, feeling terribly awkward as I put my arm
around his shoulder, letting him lift me out of the seat. “Come
along young Mister,” the guard said to Leighton in haste, “you’ll
have to carry the chair.”
old guard took me down the steps from the carriage onto the
platform. Over his shoulder I watched Leighton scrambling down in
pursuit of him, clanking my poor metal wheelchair along behind him.
It hit every step on the way down, making me shudder.
“
Can you stand for a moment Miss, whilst I work out this fancy
folding chair of yours?” asked the guard with a patient smile. I
panicked instantly. Stand? Fall was far more likely. But Leighton
saved me with an outburst.
“
Oh it’s easy!”
already well away attacking the chair, pushing it to and fro until
he could slam down the middle and put the tubular frames in the
right places. The old guard looked relieved and impressed at the
same time as he set me down into the seat. I felt the redness
rising in my cheeks at his kindness. He patted me on the head and
straightened up.
“
I’ll fetch your bags Miss,” he said with a smile, “You wave
those green tickets about until the billet man sees
you.”
around the dirty, smoky railway platform into the mass of
unlabelled children now wandering aimlessly along in clumps. The
billeting officer wasn’t hard to spot at all; he was the tall one
in the middle of a particularly large clump of younger children,
most of whom were crying. The billet man looked like he wanted to
cry too. He was an older man, though not as grey and bristly as the
train guard and as the bawling children were shuffled to and fro I
realised that he was wearing a policeman’s uniform under an open
beige jacket. I waved my green label towards his field of vision
just as the train guard said, but he didn’t notice us. The green
was supposed to signal us as a special case because of my chair. He
should have been looking out for us, but now I could see he was too
busy in the throng of cry-babies to even look up.
Eventually we
were introduced when the guard took us and our one suitcase over
into the eye of the child storm. I was wet from the explosion of
tears instantly, pulling a handkerchief from the pocket of my knit
jumper to wipe my face. It was always awful being at the same eye
level as small children and large animals. On this occasion I would
have preferred the large animals over this noisy mess of kids who
had just realised they wouldn’t be seeing Mummy again for a while
now that their train adventure was over. I couldn’t hear a word
that the billet man said over the din, but eventually he took
control of pushing my wheelchair and made off for the station
exit.
I turned
weakly in my chair to wave goodbye to the kind old guard, feeling
the noise of the busy platform fade away. My head felt normal again
at last.
“
I’ve just got to transfer my duties to Officer Jones, then
I’ll be accompanying you two up to the village.”
was a terribly thick Welsh one and it was actually several minutes
after he had gone back to the station before I could translate
exactly what he had said and tell it to Leighton again. We were in
a little car park where a cold wind nipped against my stockings,
making my knees ache under my pleated skirt. I should have worn
something warmer. Mum was always telling me to worry about the
weather more. But then she wouldn’t have abandoned me in a car park
in the first place.
The flustered
officer assigned to help us on Evacuation Day was Officer Lewis.
When he returned, I was wheeled into the back of a large hospital
car especially built for the purpose. I had to admit the shiny
white car filled me with a little excitement. When Leigh came to
sit opposite me on a bench inside the back of the vehicle, he
looked around him with a big smile.
“
Nice this Kit,” he mused, “Do you think it means the people
looking after us are rich?”
“
No such luck young man,” said Lewis from the front passenger
seat, “This is the doctor’s private car, this, you’ll only see it
when you’re going up his office.”
some time to translate, the way Lewis mashed all his words together
into a melodious jangle was hard on our London ears, but I got
enough words from the mix to know I shouldn’t expect a chauffeur.
Although I probably would be in this car quite often, given the
circumstances. The pin in my jumper where the green label clung to
me was starting to itch. I took it off gently, saving the pin
against the fabric strap of my gas mask holder and tried to read
the address we were destined for.
Ty Gwyn, Bryn
Eira Bach
That was it.
No borough, no postcode, not even a house number. I stretched
forward to give the paper to Leighton whose little eyes were
craning to see it. A lot of good it’d do him. He scrumpled his face
at the address.
“
Tie goy-un?” he asked, “What kind of address is tie
goy-un?”
his head round his seat, looking at the paper over Leigh’s little
shoulders.
“
Tie indeed,” he tutted, “That’s Ty Gwyn that is. Lovely big
farm house on the edge of the village. You’ll love it
there.”
Tee Gwin. I tried to remember it, murmuring it on my lips. It would
be so rude to say it wrong to the people who were kind enough to
take us in for the duration of the threat in London, perhaps even
for the duration of the war. Tee Gwin. The thought of a farm house
didn’t appeal in the least to me, all I could think of was how cold
and drafty it would be in the winter months, but Leighton was all
over the idea, scrambling up the bench to turn and talk to Officer
Lewis.
“
A farm!” he squealed, stamping his feet, “Will there be pigs
and chickens and things to chase around?”
“
I don’t know if they’ll appreciate you chasing ‘em much,
bach, but yes there will be animals about the place.” Lewis’s round
face smiled at Leighton before he turned his brown eyes on me. “Oh
it’s a lovely village this, you’ll have everything you could ever
want in Bryn Eira Bach.”
bitter taste in my mouth, but I smiled back before I looked out of
the window. Unless this distant village could somehow make me
able-bodied again and then give me a handsome young chap to go
dancing with, I knew that Lewis’s promises, and my hopes, couldn’t
ever come true.
private car took us an awfully long way from the station, over
sparse grassy hills and down little brown roads that led to yet
more hills. We had gone over so many bumps that I could feel the
restraints on my chair starting to loosen, but just as I began to
worry that I’d be flung out of my seat at the next bend, the car
finally stopped. Out of one window I saw a mass of misty fields
with the vague shadow of mountains in the background. From the
other I just caught sight of a lot of out buildings ranging in
shape and size. Barns and things, I supposed.
Ty Gwyn was
straight ahead of us, so I didn’t see the huge white building until
I was properly out of the car. Officer Lewis started to wheel me up
to it over the bumpy gravel path, jarring my spine with every
pebble. I tried to keep smiling and made sure my clothes and hair
were neat as we approached. When Lewis rang the doorbell the
ancient sound echoed out of the cracks in the wood around the
window panes. A few birds roosting in the eaves of the big white
farm house suddenly took flight, making Leighton jump. He shuffled
from foot to foot, biting his little pink lip.
The tiniest
girl I had ever seen answered the door. She was short and willowy
with huge blue eyes and tawny brown hair sticking up at funny
angles. Her plain little dress was stained with something that
looked like blueberries. She clung to its hem as she looked up at
Officer Lewis, then she suddenly broke into a great beaming smile,
showing off her stumpy white teeth.
“
Ble mae Mam?” Lewis asked the little girl.
pick out the English as usual, but this time I couldn’t. Leighton
gave me a wide eyed look, scrunching his nose.
“
Yn y gegin yn paratoi cinio,” the little girl replied. I
marvelled at the complex language falling out of such a tiny
mouth.
“
Dod â Mam yma!” Lewis added with a flick of his
hand.
girl scampered away, leaving the door wide open. I would have
waited, but Lewis seemed to take that as the invitation to go
inside. He wheeled me in over the bumpy threshold of the wide
farmhouse door and into a big reception space, adjusting Leighton
until he stood up straight beside me. Everything in this part of
the house was either black or white. Black tiles lined the cold
stone floor. White lacy doilies covered the shelves of an old black
dresser in the corner, next to an even older metal coat stand that
was ready to fall over with the amount of coats flung upon it.
I looked at
the steep, black stairs fearfully. If I was expected to climb them
every day and night, I would surely die before I even reached
breakfast tomorrow. My joints ached at the very prospect of
it.
“
Nawr te, who do we have yur then?”
accent echoing down the corridor was thankfully much clearer than
Lewis’s. She almost sang the words as she appeared from under a
white doorway right in front of us. The woman had a rosy face and
the same tawny hair as the little girl, though hers was pulled back
into a more practical style. She was older than Mum but younger
than Granny, with a cooking apron tied over her broad, rounded
figure. She had the kindest smile in the world as she approached,
rubbing her coarse hands together excitedly.
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