A different point of view

Chapter 1- Meetings with sandwiches and gin.

The pavement was cold, hard and wet beneath her feet. The chill seeped through her thin, threadbare shoes, well darned tights and crept into her bones. The rain was just starting again; adding to the impression that this was all a nightmare, nothing in real life could be this horrifying. Night had fallen, the day had been freezing but the night would be worse. The night was always worse.

It was 1942, London, the Blitz had begun and soon the sky would be lit up with people on the ground trying desperately to spot the planes responsible for the destruction of their lives. But right now, the only thing she could think about was what had happened at the factory that afternoon. She had been sacked from her job in the chemical factory for stepping in while a woman was beaten for disobeying a superior. She had sent the man flying backwards, clipboard spinning to the side. After that there had been a lot of shouting, waving about of arms and she had been slapped.

Rage bubbled in her stomach as she rubbed her face, it was still stinging. So now she had no job, she hadn't had a home since her parents died over five years ago, and she was hungry. The pay was in her skirt pocket, all 3 pounds of it. Luckily she had some left over from last week, so all in all, she had 6 pounds, 7 shillings and 3 pence. That would last her a while, but she needed a new job. Finding one was easier said than done; especially now the bombing had begun in earnest. Nearly everyone knew someone who had been bombed, or had been bombed themselves. If she had been English this wouldn't have been a problem, if she had been any other nationality nobody would think anything of employing her.

But she wasn't English, she was German. She had been born near Berlin but had moved when she was five, her parents finding work and stability in England. Her English was perfect, a slightly London accent, but she was always asked where she came from, and she always answer 'Berlin' before her brain had realised what she was saying. That response had cost her three jobs this month. She had never been ashamed of her homeland, never thought to lie about where she had been born but now, with the German bombers lighting up London with fire and staining it with blood, she felt empty. This was wrong, two great countries should not be at war, this carnage was pointless and her nation's reputation was being dragged through the mud yet again. This madness had to end. But until then, she had no choice but to return to her spot on the underground.

Her bag banged against her leg as she took the steps down into the train station. People pasted her on all sides, all of them living on the streets, all of them poor and cold. None of these people cared who she was or where she came from. The suitcase in her left hand banged into a wall, jarring her leg. She sighed. It was going to be a long night.

"'Ello sir, fancy some gin? Fresh, pure gin for only 3 pence! You won't find a cheap price in London."

The man walked by, ignoring the urchin who was offering him a bottle. But Eda-Brigitta stopped, considering. It was a good price, the gin would be watered down, no doubt about that, but she hadn't drunk all week and it was now Sunday. She needed a drink. Making her way through the crowd she approached the boy.

"How much was a bottle?"

"3 pence miss, but to a beautiful woman like yourself, 2 pence."

A sudden burst of affection welled in her chest. She smiled, her eyes warming, her frown softening.

"Thank you for the kind offer my friend, but you'll get in trouble if you sell it for less than the asking price. Here."

She handed over the correct change, the boy's grin warming her down to her toes.

"Thank you miss, may God bless you and keep you safe."

"You too my friend, you too."

She smiled and walked away, the bottle of gin clutched in her hand. A few meters away she found an empty space by the wall. Placing the suitcase down, she fished around and found her watch, 10pm. The bombs would start soon. Stowing the gentleman's watch that had been her fathers back in the suitcase, she straightened up, looking around her. The underground was always filthy, and it made no difference if her clothes got dirty anyway, she wasn't going to waste money getting them cleaned yet, they had all been cleaned last week, she still had a few days left. Sitting with her back on the wall, she pulled up her knees and stowed the suitcase under them. Her mother's bag was placed beside her, the bottle next to it. In the bag where the books she was reading this week: Shakespeare, Tyson, Keats and Luther. Some in English and some in German, her parents could read both so they had made sure that she could. She pulled out Shakespeare, Macbeth, and began to read, sipping her drink as she did so.

As the first bombs fell she stopped reading. She couldn't read about death and madmen where her whole world was being ruled by these things. Eda-Brigitta rested her head on the wall, thinking. How had she come to be here? How had she sunk so low? Part of her was glad her parents were dead, they would have wept to see her like this, dirty, gin drinking, homeless, jobless, alone. Her parents had died when she was 14; they had just collapsed one after the other and died within minutes. After a brief period of shock she had quickly come to her senses. She would have to leave; the owners of the flat would not let her stay. They would rather die than help a German, he was an old man who had fought in the Great War and lost many friends. She could understand, but that didn't mean she had to like it. Her parents had been wearing jewellery, so she removed that, anything of monetary worth went into her pocket; they'd want her to have them, not some old bloke with more than enough money. She had then taken the suitcase from its place in the wardrobe and filled it with blanket, warm clothes, shoes, needles and thread, matches, candles, the family flashlight, batteries, water, any alcohol in the house, a couple of notebooks, her dairy, pencils and pens. She had also collect books, as many was she could carry. All of the books had gone into her mother red leather satchel, along with the first aid kit, spare bandages, a few kitchen knives and her father's gun and bullets. Eda-Brigitta had always wondered why her father had kept a gun in his bedside table. Now she knew; when people turn against you, nothing will do but your blood.

She took a swig of gin, the familiar burn rushing down her throat, the strength of the alcohol making her eyes water. The bottle was still ¾ full, she'd save the rest for later. After writing in her diary she pulled a blanket from the suitcase, covering her thin body and settled in for another night of fitful sleep.

A tramp, his name was Jimmy, watched her. He'd seen her before; she usually came to this spot. His eyes took her in, the jet black hair which was spilling over the blanket, slightly curled but mainly straight, the pale skin, the thin fingers, meant for more than being a common worker, the eyes which he couldn't see but knew that they were as dark as her hair, closer to black than brown. She was thin, not much money Jimmy thought. A small smile played about his mouth as she stirred, curling in on herself. There was one brave lass, Jimmy thought as he walked away, leaving Eda-Brigitta alone to sleep while bombs dropped by her countrymen devastated the city she had come to call home.

As she woke, Eda-Brigitta grimaced, she hated the taste in her mouth after having a drink but she could deal with it. Stretching, she glanced round the station; everything seemed fine, no holes in the ceiling at any rate. Breakfast, what should she have? Gathering her possessions, she headed out of the station and towards the market. People bustled around her, all busy. A pie stall looked tempting, and as the owner was talking to someone else her small hand shot out and plucked a pie and hid it behind her bag. Three streets away she sank her teeth into the steaming hot pastry. Warmth and goodness flooded her mouth. A small moan slipped from her and people around her looked at her as if she was mad, what can't she enjoy food? Stupid people. Sore feet pound the pavement, back to the train station she deserved a day off, just to sit and catch up on her reading. Her spot was empty, good. This time she pulled out a book in German, Martin Luther's thesis against the Catholic Church, she wasn't religious at all but it was German, written by a German and the language was fantastic.

People had started coming into the underground station, it was Monday so people where going to work or school. But she ignored them, as they ignored her; that was the way things worked. A pair of feet appeared in front of her and she looked up. A small girl with light brown plaits and a school uniform was standing before her, a package of sandwiches in her outstretched hand. Eda-Brigitta looked from the sandwiches to the girl and back, dark eyes curious.

"Here, I don't want them."

"Thank you but I have already eaten."

"Yes but still, your far too thin. Please."

"Only half then, you need to eat as well, your young and growing."

A sigh, "ok."

She smiled, grinning in victory, well to her in was a victory, damm her parents for their pride, and damm them for passing it down to her. As she bit into the sandwich the girl smiled at her, amusement sparkling in her soft brown eyes. The girl's eyes studied a poster just to the left of Eda-Brigitta, a poster showing how 'evil all Germans are and how they will kill us all'. It had a line of German text underneath it, which annoyed her terribly, the German was incorrect.

"It's not spelt right; it shouldn't have an umlaut above the u."

Eda-Brigitta pointed with her pencil, which she had been playing with, at the offending letter. The girl's face closed up.

"You speak German?"

"I am German."

"Oh"

Because she was going to kill her right here and now wasn't she. Unbelievable. Eda rolled her eyes, some people and the girl giggled.

"You seem nice, what's your name?"

"Eda-Brigitta, but most people call me Eda. What's yours?"

"Lucy, I-"

But before Lucy could speak another dark haired girl, her hair longer than Lucy's, arrived, a frown on her face.

"LUCY! Come on, and don't wander off this time. Where are your sandwiches?"

"I gave some of them to Eda."

"Who?"

Eda waved and the girl's eyes narrowed. She pulled Lucy away from her, muttering in her ear the whole time. Eda felt rather insulted, so what because she was homeless she was worthless? Lucy sat down on a bench, clearly very fed up.

Cheering came from her right, someone was having a fight. A blonde boy was losing; he was outnumbered three to one. Eda sighed, she would never understand boys. Why would you start a fight when it is obvious you are going to lose? Madness. And stupidity. A blur of dark hair flashed past her and another boy jumped into the fray. Suddenly the fight was more even; the new boy was tough and quick.

"Pack it in! There's a war on and you lot are fighting?"

The air-raid warden had arrived, his red face sweating, his enormous stomach wobbling. The other boys scattered, the blonde and the black haired boy glared at each other.

"I had it sorted!"

If that was him 'having it sorted' Eda did not want to find out how bad he was when he needed help. The ebony haired boy shook his head, walking over to the bench where Lucy and the other girl were sitting. He flopped down, staring at his feet. Eda watched him, feeling something she couldn't understand, an urge to protect. But she hadn't even seen the boys face!

Shaking her head Eda yanked out her gin bottle, she hated it when the schools opened and closed, the stations were overrun with idiotic children. Even the thought made her shudder with disgust. Flames licked their way down her throat and she let out a weak gasp. She hadn't meant to have that much, she was an alcoholic not an idiot. Swallowing, desperately trying to sooth the fire, raised voices disrupted her musings.

"Stop pinching me!"

"I'm not doing anything, stop pinching me!"

As Eda looked up she saw the group hold hands and then… vanish? What on earth? She blinked, looked at the half empty bottle and then back at the now empty bench. The bottle was only half empty and she had never had hallucinations, not matter how drunk she got, and she wasn't a light weight, it would take more than half a bottle drunk over half a day to get her even tipsy. It was finally happening; she was cracking up, at last. It had been coming for years, personally, she couldn't believe she'd lasted this long.

Sighing, she tried to put it out of her mind, her severely messed up mind. A photo was lying on the floor beside her. It was of her and her parents, before they had died. It must have fallen out when she took out her bottle. Running her fingers over it, a sharp pinch on her forearm made her look up. No-one was standing near her, nobody had pinched her. Another sign of madness, this was getting ridiculous, discovering insanity and having proof were two completely different things. Eda had bought a second bottle of gin; she was going to need it now she was mental. Looking back at her parents smiling faces, she felt wind on her face, a strange whooshing sound and when she looked up she was sitting on the floor of a ruined castle.

With shaking fingers, she tucked the picture into her pocket and looked round, fear welling in the pit of her stomach, making her limbs heavy and unresponsive. The sun was warm here, she could smell the sea, hear waves crashing and…. people talking.

"So it's been 1300 years, wow, we are soo old!"

It was a voice Eda recognised. It was the girl from the station, Lucy. What the hell was going on here? First she disappears and now Eda disappears, to the same place! Eda stood shakily, her possessions had come with her, her bag and suitcase and bottle. Thank God for alcohol. She wondered if this place had wine or something similar. Eda heard footsteps behind her, probably Lucy, and turned. Five people are standing behind her, shock on their faces and a smile on Lucy's.

Oh yes, I AM BACK! EXAMS ARE OVER! whooooooooooo!

lol, this took me about 3 weeks and it was sitting on my memory stick for about 2 months. anyway enjoy. xxxx

Katzzle out, xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx