A Stitch in Time by Amanda James Read Free Book Online

heart did a little somersault; well at least she hoped she could get back.
    ‘Albert, what day is it?’ she asked, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. ‘I think you’re right, I have got a touch of amnesia. Must have happened when I fell.’
    Albert stopped and stared, his cigarette stuck to his bottom lip. ‘Bloody ’ell, you don’t know what day it is? I reckon we’d best go to ’ospital, lass.’
    ‘No, I’ll be alright soon, no worries.’
    ‘No worries? You’re talking a bit odd, too,’ Albert muttered, taking her by the elbow and setting off again.
    ‘Yes, sorry, so what’s the day and date?’
    ‘Thursday, the 12th of December.’
    ‘But what year is it, Albert?’
    He stopped again and shook his head. ‘Are you sure you’re not just pullin’ my leg?’
    ‘No, I’m not, Albert … I wish I was.’
    ‘It’s 1940.’ He sighed and took her elbow again. ‘Now come on, let’s get ’ome, it’ll be dark by four o’clock and I’m bloody freezin’ already. I’m due to go back out later and I need a warm first.’
    Sarah hurried along next to him, numb from the cold, but mostly from the revelation that it was December the 12th. She knew that on that day, the Sheffield Blitz began in earnest around 7 p.m. and lasted until about 4 a.m. There would be another attack on the 15th and 16th, leaving over 660 people dead in total and over 80,000 buildings destroyed.
    These grim facts circled around her head as they hurried through the darkening streets. After 10,000 incendiary bombs had done their work, 40,000 people would be homeless and large areas of Sheffield would resemble the fires of hell. Sarah shook her head and blinked back tears. Just before, in the classroom, she couldn’t remember anything about what she was supposed to teach. Now, everything she wanted 9CM to learn screamed in her mind.
    The weird and awful thing was it hadn’t even happened yet. But it would, in just a few short hours, and she’d be right in the middle of it.

Chapter Four
    The light was fading fast as they hurried along the freezing city streets. Sarah pulled the coat collar more closely about her neck, sniffed a few times and searched in her pockets for a hanky. The pockets were bare, so she dabbed at her nose with the back of her hand. Why did your nose always run in cold weather? Perhaps she should ask Albert; she was sure he’d love a conversation about snot after everything else she’d said to him so far.
    A little while later, realisation dawned that they were making for Pitsmoor, the area where she had lived as a child. Sarah lived in Stannington now, and hadn’t been back for years, but the railway viaduct of the Wicker Arches looked just the same, and she took some comfort from such familiarity in an alien world. Then she remembered Pitsmoor would be hit badly and the old arches would suffer damage by the morning.
    Presently, Albert led her along a narrow street of back-to-back houses, very different from the 1930s’ semi she lived in now, and turned into a narrow ginnel. At the other side was a large yard, containing six houses opposite the same number of outside toilets. These types of houses would be long gone in the present. Albert led her to the end house, knocked on the door and walked in.
    ‘Violet! You ’ere? I found Sarah in town and she’s gone a bit funny!’
    Sarah sighed and shook her head. If only you knew the truth, Albert, you’d go a bit bloody funny!
    A woman wearing a blue-and-white flower-patterned apron appeared from a door at the back of the house. She looked to be around her mid-forties, plumpish, with auburn hair rolled in the classic wartime fashion, and a kind open face in which two emerald-green eyes twinkled.
    ‘Gone a bit funny? She was alus a bit funny weren’t you, love?’ Violet chuckled, drawing Sarah towards a cosy fire roaring in the grate.
    Sarah was divested of her coat and made to sit in the chair by the fire. She took in her surroundings while Albert