Brenda Collins

Walking into the railway station I immediately spotted a young girl of around four or five standing alone in the middle of a crowded platform.

She was being bumped into and stood on and no one seemed to notice her. Everyone was too busy getting on the train that was waiting patiently on the track beside the platform. She was wearing a tatty green beret and had a tag around her neck. A box was tucked under her arm with a trailing piece of string attached to it. It must have contained a gas mask. Everyone was supposed to have one now.

She was dressed in a pink and yellow cardigan that had some sort of intricate pattern on it. It went beautifully with her golden hair tied back with a black ribbon. On her bottom half she wore a plain murky green skirt and flat black pumps on her feet contrasting with her white ankle socks.

As I moved closer to her she looked up and I could see tears falling from her wonderful blue eyes. She looked terrified, as if she didn’t know what was happening to her. There seemed to be no one with her. Her bottom lip was quivering. I noticed a small brown suitcase and paper bag on the floor beside her.

She was now focusing her attention on the train. She sat down on top of her suitcase and began to study the wheels absently scratching a scab on her left knee. As I walked on I kept thinking about her. She reminded me of someone I knew very well, but I just couldn’t think who.

The train conductor blew his whistle to signal we had to board the train. I watched the girl board the very front carriage where there were very few people. I picked up my own suitcase and headed for that same carriage.

The little girl was hunched up in a seat on the far corner. Looking around I saw that we were alone, yet I sat down in the seat opposite her. About an hour passed before the girl opened her paper bag and brought out a margarine sandwich. She studied it for a while and then took a small bite out of it. I caught her sneaking a glance at me and smiled at her. Softly I said, “My name’s Sophie, what’s yours?”

She looked as if she would rather be anywhere else in the world than talking to me but she replied, “Brenda.”

“Hi Brenda, maybe we could be friends?”

She smiled back. It was hard for all of us being evacuated. Most of our fathers were away fighting and we were terrified as it was never mind being separated from our friends and families.

Soon we started a proper conversation about our favourite things, toys, books, and clothes. I decided we would be firm friends forever. Now that she had a friend she didn’t seem as worried and scared as she had been before. What perturbed me though, was why no one was there to see her off.