PART ONE

To protect the Just

Chapter One

I flung the back door open, and was greeted by the bright lights of the German planes that flew high above us, destroying our homes. I had only experienced one other air raid, and I cringed at the ruckus, making a beeline for the small door to our bomb shelter. I pulled the door open, and my stomach tied itself into knots at the sight of the empty concrete room. I turned, only to nearly run into my mum, who gasped for breath before her eyes widened, scanning the empty shelter.

"Where's Amy?" My heart nearly stopped. Amy. No, no, no! I turned back to the house and started forward, running as fast as my feet could take me. "No! Evelyn, don't!" I paid no mind to my mother's cries, and focused on the door, which seemed far away, as if I would never reach it.

"Amy!" I cried, hoping against hope that she would hear me and come outside, but nothing happened. I gasped for breath, and the sirens seemed to get louder. Suddenly, my feet were no longer touching the ground, and I felt weightless for a moment, before the air was forced from my lungs and flames filled my vision. My head was spinning, but I sat up, gasping at the sight of my home, crumbling to bits as it was engulfed suddenly in flames. Amy. My chest grew tight, and my heart felt as if it had really stopped. I couldn't breathe, my ears were ringing, and my vision was growing dark. My mind was awake enough to understand, though. My house was gone, and my sister gone with it.

Prying my eyes open, I squinted up at the white ceiling, noticing the cracks in the plaster before a face entered my line of vision. At the sight of the tear streaks on my mother's cheeks, my throat seemed to close up.

"Mum—" She closed her eyes, and gave me a tight lipped smile.

"Shh," She smoothed my hair away from my face. It felt nice, but nothing could take away the horrible sense of dread and guilt that rested deep in my belly.

"Amy…" I choked, tears threatening to spill. "A…" I gasped, and let the drops fall from my eyes. Mum closed her eyes again, and her expression contorted into one of pain. She nodded, almost imperceptibly, but the action caused a surge of emotion to bubble up and out of me. I let out a cry, and Mum grasped my hand tightly, letting her own tears fall as well. We wept together, for a lost sister, and a lost daughter. I sobbed unabashedly, thinking of my darling sister with her golden hair, so like my mother's, and her sweet smile and laugh. Never again would she grace our lives, and I shed more tears at the thought. "She—she was only seven," I gasped between sobs, and my mother stifled a wail. "I'm sorry!" I sniffled. "I'm sorry! I should have looked after her! I should have—" I could barely breathe between my words and my cries. My mother opened her eyes, and shook her head.

"No, Evelyn, no. You must never feel that this is, in any way, your fault. Do you understand?" Her words were firm, but spoken softly, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. I sniffled, and forced back another wave of sadness. I nodded, not meeting her eyes, and she kissed my forehead. And though I had agreed, I knew that I would carry this guilt for the rest of my life.

The service was small. Amy had been well loved by many in our community, but everyone was suffering their own losses, some more than others. We were not the only gathering in the cemetery that day. I had dressed in a simple black skirt and stockings, with a pressed white shirt and black sweater. I wore my hair simply, in a single clip. Mother dressed similarly, and we stood together at the service, clutching our damp handkerchiefs in our shaking hands. I stared at the small, drab stone that marked my sister's short life. Amelia Polly Gray. I stifled a sob as I looked at the unturned earth beneath it. There hadn't been a body. I tried my hardest to pay attention to the rest of the service, and ignore the pounding ache in my chest, but I hardly succeeded. I decided it was warranted, though. After the service was over, anyone who had been able to come gave their condolences, before parting ways, since we hadn't a home to invite people back to. I watched as the last of the mourners drifted away, and Mum smiled sadly at me.

"We should go, Evelyn." I swallowed.

"May I have a moment?" Fresh tears glistened in my mother's eyes, but she blinked them away, and nodded. I swallowed a sob, and shuffled towards the brand new stone that stood out terribly among the green grass and soft sunshine. Kneeling down, I took care not to dirty my new skirt, and I looked up at the simple engravings on my sister's stone. "Amy…" I started, before my throat closed up, and my eyes welled with tears. "I am so, so sorry—" I covered my mouth with my hand and sobbed. "I should have come to get you; I should have made sure you got out." I took a deep breath, composing myself. "Amy, Amelia…" I laughed shortly, a laugh tinged with tears and bitterness. She had hated being called Amelia. She would have chided me for it. "I love you Amy, and I will miss you. I will miss you…" I blew out a short breath. "So much. And I will always feel responsible for this, even though people will always tell me otherwise. I wish—" I blinked the tears away. "I wish I had been a better sister, a better protector. It was your first air raid, you were probably terrified and I left you." I gasped, and my shoulders shook as I sobbed, the tears running freely down my face. "I will try my whole life to make this up to you, I promise. I would do anything to have you back, Amy, anything." I stared at her stone once again through blurry eyes. "But I will rest a little better knowing that you are with Dad now, and I can only hope that someday Mum and I will join you." I kissed the tips of my fingers, and pressed them to the top of her headstone, my lips quivering as I spoke through my sobs. "I love you, Amy, so, so much." I took a shuddering breath. "Please forgive me." I drew my hand away, and stood, brushing off my skirt, and wiping away my tears as I joined Mum. Together we left the cemetery, taking the cab that had been waiting for us.

We waded through the ashes of our home, retrieving the few items that hadn't been destroyed. A broken frame with an unharmed photograph; my mother's hairbrush; a chipped plate; dirty silverware. As I sifted through the wreckage, avoiding the splintered ends of the wooden beams, I caught sight of something shiny buried beneath the dirt. Bending down and taking hold of the broken board nearest to me, I shoved it to the side, and brushed the dirt off of the object with my gloved hand. I frowned, not recognizing it. It was a silver chain, with two rings on it, one a brilliant yellow-gold, the other a vibrant green. Reaching out slowly, I picked it up, turning them over with my fingers.

"Evelyn?" On an impulse, I quickly stuffed the rings and chain into my pocket, before turning to look up at my mother. Her arms were full of usable, albeit slightly damaged things. "Have you found anything?" I showed her the few dishes and silverware I had collected. She smiled. "Good, we should probably head back to the Clarke's'." I nodded, gathering the last of the trinkets we had found, and followed my mother. The Clarkes were family friends; my mother had known both Mr. and Mrs. Clarke for years. They had no children, and while Mr. Clarke was away at the war, Mrs. Clarke had welcomed us warmly into their home, with many condolences. As I followed Mum away from the remains of our own home, she looked at me, and a soft, but grim smile graced her features. "Evelyn," she began. "I've been thinking," I watched her carefully; trying to determine what she was going to say next. I prompted her when she didn't continue.

"Yes?" She sighed.

"With the air raids, many children are being…relocated temporarily…to the country, to live with other families." My throat went dry.

"Mum—"

"I think you should join them, Evelyn." Mum said. "It would be so much safer there." I frowned.

"I don't want to go. What if…what if I come back and you're not here?" Tears prickled at my eyes. Mum wrapped a comforting arm around my shoulders.

"Evelyn, I just want you to be safe. I have a friend who lives in the country, you could stay with him, he's—"

"Mum," I cut her off. "Please. Please don't send me away. I would rather stay here with you and face the war; I don't want to leave you!" I felt a little guilty at my outburst, after seeing tears in Mum's eyes, and I bit my lip. "I'm sorry, Mum. I'll…I'll go, if you want me to. I just…" I took a deep breath. "Can't you come with? You said he's your friend, can't you—" She shook her head sadly.

"No, dear. I would hate to leave, while all the others must stay. Besides, he will have other children in his home, and I don't want to take up space where I don't need to." I nodded shakily. Mum stopped walking, and turned to me, embracing me. "I don't want you to go, Evelyn, I want you by my side, you know. But I also want you safe, and this way you will be." I nodded. As much as I wanted to stay, and not be parted from my mother in a time like this, I also knew that I couldn't be selfish, not after Amy. I hugged Mum back and squeezed my eyes shut, not allowing the tears to fall, not allowing her to see me upset about it. Mum pulled away, and smiled at me. "Thank you, Evelyn." She started walking again, and I followed her. "And I can still write to you, and call you," she said, as we reached the Clarke's house. "And I will feel so much better knowing that you're safe." I nodded.

"I know, Mum." She smiled softly again, and opened the door, allowing me inside first. I went immediately to the guest room, and closed the door, before letting my tears fall. The overwhelming fear that I would come home to find out that my mother was gone, just like my father and sister, crushed me, and I covered my mouth to muffle my sobs. I knew that Mum was only sending me away so that I was safe, and I couldn't blame her, but I wanted her safe too. I stood by the window, and looked out at grey, dismal London beneath me, and the thought of living in the country, not having to go to sleep at night waiting to be woken up by sirens and explosions, seemed nice, and I wished that I could share the experience with Mum. Behind me, I heard a knock on the door, and I turned, wiping away the tears that had, for the moment, ceased. "Come in," I called, and Mum poked her head in the doorway.

"Margaret says that dinner is ready, will you join us?" I smiled, and nodded, brushing my hair behind my ears and smoothing my skirt. As I followed Mum downstairs, I cleared my throat.

"How long until I leave, Mum?" She turned towards me, an expression of pity on her face. She knew I was barely holding it together.

"There's a train that leaves two days from now, on Saturday." I nodded.

"All right," I spoke softly, and continued with Mum into the dining room, where Mrs. Clarke was waiting for us. I greeted her, and she smiled, nodding in return. We prayed over our food, and then Mum and Mrs. Clarke struck up conversation, leaving me to my food and my thoughts. As I ate, I contemplated what it would be like to live in a strange house, along with multiple other children. I hadn't many friends my age; especially recently it had just been me, Mum, and Amy. Now, it was me and Mum, and soon, it would just be me. When there was a lull in the dinner conversation, I set my fork on my empty plate, and stood. "I'll do the washing up," I announced, beginning to collect the dishes from the table.

"Thank you, Evelyn," Mrs. Clarke said graciously. I smiled.

"Thank you for supper, ma'am," I carried the glassware to the kitchen sink, where I scrubbed them all until they were gleaming. I dried them, and put them away, before leaving to find Mum and Mrs. Clarke in the sitting room, talking. "I think I'll head to bed," I said, and moved to kiss Mum on the cheek. "Goodnight, Mum,"

"Goodnight, dear," she said softly, and stroked my hair before allowing me to stand, and bid our hostess goodnight as well. I went to the guest room, and undid my blouse, and my skirt, letting them pile on the floor before tossing my nightgown over my head. As I retrieved my clothes from the floor, something fell from the pocket of my skirt, and clattered to the floor. It was the rings from the house that I had pocketed earlier, after finding them buried in the dust and debris. I bent down to pick the chain up, before stopping suddenly. There was a strange noise in the air, a sort of low, barely noticeable humming. As I reached towards it, the humming seemed to grow louder, and before I could over think it, my fingers closed around the jewelry, and I suddenly felt as if I was being pulled away, and thrown through the air for an uncomfortable moment, before I was still.