The journey to the orphanage would probably have been a pleasant one, had it not been for the impending doom that lay ahead for us. From the moment we arrived, I could tell our time here would not be pleasant. A stern lady in a starched uniform took down our names, and immediately sent us to a room to be given what she called, "appropriate clothing". My pink satin frock was stripped off, and in its place, I was given a plain brown dress that smelt as if a hundred girls had worn it before, and a pair of worn, old boots. My long, red hair was also cut to my shoulders, a woman telling me long hair took too much grooming.
If I remember correctly, Freddie and I spent two, long months in that orphanage. The food was terrible, and we mostly had to sleep on the floor, sharing a blanket, that I usually gave to Freddie. I thought Freddie would cry a lot, he had never been worlds bravest boy, and often was a bit of a cry baby. However, he seemed to have grown up somewhat, after our parents death, and rarely cried, no matter how awful something was.
In about late February, it was night time, and Freddie had just fallen asleep, while I, unable to sleep, lay awake. I looked down at my sleeping brother, and a sudden pang hit me; of when I had made the promise to look after Freddie no matter what, and to never let anything happen to him. I suddenly realised that I had not been keeping this promise. Being at the orphanage was no way to be living a childhood, and I decided that I would be letting Freddie down if I didn't get us out of here soon.
I lay, that night, staring out of a small window in the ceiling, wondering if it would be possible to run away from the orphanage. My mind was not really in the right place, as it bypassed all the things I should have thought of, such as food, money, home, warmth. All I could think about was getting out there, and getting Freddie a better life.
I began to put together a plan, and by dawn next morning, I had made up my mind that we would run away from the orphanage that night.
Of course, in reality, the plan didn't run quite how I had played it out in my head the night before, and instead of slipping through the door unnoticed, and walking for only five minutes before finding a nice warm place to stay, with a nice hot meal; we were unfortunate to bump into the matron, Mrs Partridge on our way downstairs, and I had to push past her quickly in the dark, and make a run for it, Freddie clasped firmly in my arms. We then continued to run, instead of walk, to the nearest town, and stayed the night in a doorway, freezing cold and hungry.
But, despite all our misfortune, as I rocked Freddie to sleep in that damp doorway, I felt elated somewhat. I had managed to save myself and Freddie from the clutches of the orphanage, and here we were, about to make a new life for ourselves.
This adrenaline and happiness didn't continue the next morning though, and a fat butcher yelled at us to get out of the doorway. I stumbled through the streets, pulling Freddie along, our feet aching in our old boots. I wished that I'd remembered out coats, but in all the rush to get away, I had forgotten them, and a wintery wind was blowing round us. Freddie cried of hunger, and thirst, and by dinnertime that night, I felt like crying too. I was so hungry, I felt almost tempted by a bowl of gruel, like what we would have got at the orphanage. But I knew I had to stay strong, and be the adult. So, I asked a kind looking old lady if she would lend us a few pence, and I bought a loaf of bread.
Freddie and I tore hungrily at the bread, and I happened to catch sight of us in a window. I was shocked by what I saw. Staring back at me was not a person I recognised. Of course, I knew it was me, but I was so unrecognisable. My hair was wild, and my face dirty. I had gotten skinny, and the shabby dress was hanging of my shoulders. I looked like a crazy woman, tearing at this bread with my teeth. This would have to stop. There must be a way to get money, I thought.
I thought back to a book I had once read, in my father's study, where he often wanted to sit and read to me. I forget what the book was, but at this point, staring at my reflection, bits came back to me. It had children in it, who had been poor, they begged to get money. I knew it wasn't an excellent plan, but it was better than nothing.