Threads by Sophia Bennett Read Free Book Online Page A

says she needs extra help. She's special needs.’
    ‘She's special all right.’
    Now it's Florence's turn to shrug. We leave them in the tiny flat and make our way back past the smell of dead mouse. Three streets away, all the houses are owned by millionaires. London is crazy.

‘ S  o?’
    Edie looks innocent. ‘So?’
    ‘So what did Florence say?’
    We're back in Edie's room and it's late. Her little brother Jake went to bed hours ago. I'm sleeping over and her mum has just informed us that ‘sleep means sleep,’ but we have far too much to talk about. We weren't really in the mood on the way back from our visit, but now I feel ready to catch up and Edie is busy on Google and Wikipedia, looking up the missing facts in the story she got from Florence.
    ‘She said what I suspected,’ Edie says, with more than a hint of smugness.
    ‘Which was?’
    ‘Well, I tried to talk to you about it before, last week, but you said it was dull and distasteful.’
    ‘I think I was trying to watch Gossip Girl at the time,’ I point out.

    ‘Obviously you had better things to do.’
    ‘It was a major episode. Anyway. Tell me now.’
    Edie hesitates. I can tell part of her doesn't want to, because I wasn't listening the first time. But another part simply loves explaining things to people who don't know stuff, and this is the part that wins.
    ‘Well,’ she begins, ‘lots of Uganda is perfectly safe and normal. The Queen's been there. But Crow comes from the north, near Sudan, and things are different there. The Government's been fighting a rebel group called the Lord's Resistance Army for years and years. The rebels hide out in the bush and use children to fight. When things were really bad, they used to kidnap boys from their homes at night and make them maim and kill people. Even their own families. The girls were made to have the soldiers’ babies. So children who lived in remote villages used to walk miles and miles every afternoon to somewhere safe in a town, where there were people to protect them. They did it night after night, sleeping where they could. They were called night walkers.’
    ‘And Crow was one?’
    ‘Yes. That's why her parents sent her here as soon as they could. Florence doesn't like to talk about it in front of Crow. The memories, you know . . . ’
    ‘But now? You said things were really bad. Are they better?’
    Edie frowns. ‘Not completely. They're having peace talks, but the rebels still haven't given in. I've beenchecking. Look.’ She turns her head back to her screen. ‘Thousands of people are still too scared to return to their villages. Or they don't have villages to return to. They're living in camps in tiny huts all packed together, in fear of bandits. And James and Grace, Crow's parents, are trying to help them. James is one of the few qualified teachers. He's trying to help the children learn something, even without books and desks and blackboards. But he's in danger too. So Crow can't go back. You see? Or she could, but from where he's sitting how could a life in Kensington possibly be worse than a life in a camp? As far as he's concerned, she's one of the lucky ones. If things don't get better, he'll send Victoria when she's old enough.’
    It's hard to imagine. I mean, I know this sort of thing is always happening somewhere in the world, but it's hard to imagine it affecting people I know. It's hard to picture that tall, elegant man in the photograph deciding to send his daughters to a country where he can't see them grow up. It's hard to think of Crow packing up her things every afternoon and walking for miles, with only other children for company. In London, you'd probably be arrested. And it's impossible to imagine what would have happened if the rebels had got her. It is for me, anyway. Edie seems to have imagined it all.
    ‘What are you doing now?’
    Edie's rattling away at her computer, her fingers flying over the keys.

    ‘I'm setting up some new links on my website.