Fish out of water
SPLASH! I jumped right in. Scaring away any possible chance of a decent catch. No way was I going to let boring old safety Uncle Sam ruin my time as an evacuee here. He couldn’t stop me if he tried.” Charlotte how many times have I told you? You don’t ambush the fish you persuade them!” groaned Uncle Sam. I thought of Uncle Sam in his neatest suit trying to persuade a fish version of Lord Alan Sugar into buying his business.
“One, I don’t catch fish and two, my name is Charlie to you,” I back-chatted.
I will only briefly describe myself as I can’t waste much of my highly-wanted time so, I am:
• A certain tomboy
• A dare devil
• Completely and utterly un-girlyish
• Called ‘Charlie to you’
We were standing in the middle of the marshiest marsh in history, surrounded by plain old grass and mud with a lazy river meandering its way through the secretive, Cornish countryside. There were a few hay bales strewn across the landscape as few and fought over cattle munched on them in the autumnal breeze. We were of course in grave danger, as sooner or later we knew that a dreaded bomber would come and spoil our fun.
At the moment I was having anything but fun. No, uncle couldn’t cope with a fly, let alone a child. And here he was having to cope with the most feared niece in the country, he obviously couldn’t manage. If he had done the normal thing and got married he might have just got through the worst months of his life. But no, he just didn’t do it. Not that I mind. It’s quite fun doing whatever you please whenever you want. Don’t get me wrong, I love it but sometimes the meals are just too inedible and sometimes I really need a proper hug and…
“Charlie! Stop daydreaming, get out of that river at once or you’ll drown!” He was right I had got carried away. It’s just that I missed Mum and Dad more than everything in London put together.
”HELLLLLLLLP!”I gasped in so much water that I was sure I looked unimaginably fat.
The current dragged and pulled me from side to side. I now knew what it felt like to be stuck in a washing machine cycle. I cut my already blistered hands and opened them. In a battle of desperation I scrabbled to the surface and hauled myself onto an algae-splattered rock. There I lay soaking, bleeding and somehow peacefully sleeping in the rain. Yes, it had started to rain but in my river battle I couldn’t have cared less if it added to my bedraggledness.
“Charlotte, Charlotte my darling wake up! No. I don’t care how you feel just do it! Please do it for your own safety.” Safety? Really? Then I saw it: a bomber!
“RUN!” were the last words I heard as I scurried away into the darkness following my cracked nose…