The War Years

It was a different time back then. There was no war for a start. Everything was just a game really, for all of us. We were young and care-free. We were at the centre of our universe. The whole world was our future. The whole world was ours.

Whenever I think of Cook and when I last saw him, I cry. It was back when I'd borrowed his van to gather and transport supplies, he'd laughed at first but finally handed me the keys, offering to help me cart the stuff into the house.

On my third journey he asked me something that I still don't know the answer to. "Why do you do it, Emily?"

"What?" I pretended ignorance.

"You know what. Why? Why do you do it and put up with all this shit?" He waved his arms around, gesturing to the house, the van, everyone sitting in the garden.

I looked at the ground. "I don't know..." I don't know if he heard me, for my voice was little more than a whisper.

I remember handing one of my cups of tea to Effy as she slumped over the kitchen table, the spirit seemingly gone from her skeletal form. I always make two cups of tea, I ponder as I wait for the first to cool and drink and once I've finished I drink the other. Maybe I drink too much tea.

"Effy?" We'd sat in silence for almost an hour, our tea now cold. My hair had dried. I took her hand. "Effy, what's the matter?"

"Cook..." Her hand was shaking.

"Come on, Eff, you have to tell me." I tugged her shaking fingers slightly, talking softly.

"He's... Cook... He's dead, Emily." She looked me right into my eyes and my chest tightened. Her eyes were red and swollen, but she had no more tears to shed.

I was frozen with shock and it took a great effort to move the few inches toward the brunette and draw her into my arms. I couldn't cry and she was nearly spent. I sat with her for almost twenty minutes, the two of us silent and shaking.

"Right." I know we couldn't wallow in our grief. I hadn't been close to Cook, but he'd always been there. "I'm going to make us some hot chocolate and you're going to grab the quilts and pillows from my room." She looked up at me from a face smeared with mascara, eyes puffy and red. "And once you're down here I'm going to tidy you up."

She slowly unfolded herself from the wooden chair, using the table to prize herself up. She took small slow steps and I quickly bustled around the kitchen, heating a pan of milk and whisking in the chocolate drops to make it frothy. By the time Effy had come back downstairs, I was sat in the living room, the steaming mugs of hot chocolate sitting on the coffee table. If I wasn't still numb inside with shock, I would have laughed at her appearance. A great stack of quilts and pillows supported by two lollipop legs. She dumped them next to me and settled in-front of the fire.

"It's cold." Her voice was thin and dry. I leaned over and turned the fire on and we both choked as dusty air blew from the vents. I pushed a quilt and two of the pillows towards her cocooned her inside of them. She smiled weakly, "It's like a nest." I smiled back.

I remember when we ran out of plasters and we hadn't completely broken in our Doc Martens. The pain with each step we took brought tears to our eyes. Eventually, we just got over it, got used to the pain. I am scarred from the constant abuse of my poor feet. But the war left us with more than just sore feet and missing lovers. In fact, it wasn't all bad, there were some good times. Only they're harder to remember and fewer than the bad.

Like when me and Effy both decided that we'd make the most our situation when we'd both been made jobless. The occupiers, it seemed, wanted to keep the country in near poverty. Well, even though we did have copious reserves hidden in the eaves, we weren't taking chances.

Katie had already charmed her way into an Occupier-Approved job, and one at the height of fashion. She sold clothes and make-up and toiletries to the female Occupiers. She was happy, she'd found her niche. The foreign women loved her vintage looks and she often brought home more than was strictly allowed as the stockist turned a kindly blind eye. So we had nice smelling soaps and shampoos and could paint our nails. We always looked presentable.

"Ems?" Katie was leaning against the fridge in a floral button down dress that reached a conservative knee-length and strappy black shoes over flesh-tone stockings. "You and Eff, you need a job, yeah? I can get you something. The Ladies, they'd love you and we'd get more than I bring 'cause we're twins, yeah?" I looked at her and nodded slowly. "Well, they're looking for people at the Rec, someone to work in the café and someone for the stock room. Shall I put you forward?" She was smiling.

"Sure, Katie. Why not?" I walked over and hugged her, smelling the sharp-yet-sweet Chanel scent she now adored.

"Thank God, 'cause today's the only day this month the boss is in, so it's the only day I can convince his wife. Come by late, dress nice."

"Yeah, OK," But my response was pointless because it was an order and she'd already left the kitchen.

I heard the front door close and Effy stalked in with a sly smile on her face. "We'd better raid her wardrobe then, Ems."

It was dark, overcast, and raining heavily. And I was on my way home from town, where I'd been working in the café, serving tea and cake to the Occupiers. It was a hard job, you had to keep your wits about you. Some of the men tried to take advantage and some of them didn't trust you at all. But some were lovely and gave me tips and warned me about raids that might or might not happen in my area.

I was wrapped up in only a hoodie, despite the cold November weather. I really should have had a coat, but I was trying to harden myself to the cold that the winter would invariably bring. My feet were cold and water was seeping in through my shoes to dampen my socks. My jeans were sticking to me, the harsh rain and wind feeling like pins were being driven into my legs.

Because of the rain and the wind, because my hood was up and my head lowered against the elements, it was only at the last minute that I spotted the shadow coming towards me. I was almost home but the track felt isolated. No one was out at this time without good reason. Or bad. I hugged my bag to my chest and ran, hearing the pounding footsteps of the dark figure following. Each saturated breath was ragged and felt as though it was tearing at my throat and lungs. I slammed into the front door as the figure reached the gate and skidded to a halt, turning and disappearing into the night as Effy opened the door and I collapsed into her arms.

I know this is taking a lot of time, but I'm not really so confident with it. Also: any ideas on ships, please?