Free Valentine Joe by Rebecca Stevens

could see the tiny attic window quite clearly.
    â€˜You did,’ said the boy. ‘And I saw you. Looking down at me like a little star in the sky.’ He twinkled at her, as if he was a star himself. ‘And what I want to know is, what the heck made you come out in the middle of a raid?’
    Rose’s stomach felt suddenly hollow. ‘A raid?’ she said. ‘What d’you mean?’
    â€˜Well, it wasn’t a vicarage tea party, was it?’
    Rose shivered. What was going on?
    â€˜Chilly?’ said the boy. ‘You want my jacket?’
    â€˜No. I’m all right. Thank you.’
    â€˜Course you are. Angels don’t feel the cold, do they?’
    As he looked at her, Rose felt very glad of her borrowed coat. Not because it was warm (though it was), but because it was long and hid every inch of her pyjamas. She’d had them since she was twelve and they were covered in owls. Green owls.
    The boy sighed and looked at the sky. ‘Speaking of raids, we should get away from here,’ he said. ‘Blighters always aim for the clock tower – ’scuse my French – you can see it for miles.’
    â€˜But . . .’ Rose looked at the hotel behind them. ‘I should really get back,’ she said. ‘My grandad—’
    â€˜We need to go. Trust me.’
    And she did. Rose didn’t know why, but there was something about this boy that she did trust. She didn’t know who he was or where he’d come from. But somehow he made her feel – comfortable . She usually felt awkward with boys, especially ones she liked. She had often discussed it with Grace and Ella, all three of them wondering why they couldn’t talk to boys in the same way they talked to each other. But Rose didn’t feel like that with this boy. She felt as if she’d known him for ever, but at the same time she was excited, because they’d only just met.
    Most of all, in spite of all the weirdness, she felt – happy . She was out in the snow in the middle of the night with a boy – a boy who didn’t make her feel embarrassed or wish she was someone else. He just made her feel like herself. So if this was a dream, Rose didn’t want to wake up. Not yet, anyway.
    â€˜It doesn’t look like I’ve got much choice, does it?’ she said, smiling at him.
    He grinned back, his eyes dancing around her face. ‘No, sweet, it don’t. Come on.’
    He held out his hand. After a moment’s hesitation, she took it and they set off. Halfway across the square, Rose felt a bit awkward holding the hand of a complete stranger so she took her hand away and thrust it into the pocket of her borrowed coat. Inside there was a button and a screwed-up handkerchief.
    â€˜You’re English,’ the boy said, looking at her from the corner of his eyes.
    â€˜So are you.’
    â€˜That is true, but to be expected. Whereas you—’
    â€˜What about me?’
    â€˜I thought you was a local girl when I saw you sitting up there in your attic. A servant or something. Maid, you know. Not English , not an English girl. What you doing here?’
    Rose didn’t know what to say, so she told him the truth. ‘I’m here with my grandad.’
    â€˜With your grandad ?’ The boy looked astonished.
    But before she could reply there was a scrabble of claws and a flurry of snow as a white shape shot past them in pursuit of a smaller, darker shape.
    â€˜Oi! Leave poor pussycat alone, you bully!’
    Rose’s heart leapt. It was the dog, she was sure of it. Her dog. ‘Hey!’ she called after him. ‘Come back!’ But he’d disappeared into the darkness. ‘I’ve seen that dog before,’ she said.
    â€˜There’s a lot of them about,’ said the boy. ‘People had to leave them behind when they went, you know, the localpeople. Left them running around the streets, nowhere to go.’
    Rose