Free Finding Sophie by Irene N.Watts

Aunt Em, do let us stay here. We're not children anymore.”
    “I don't see why not. I'll walk over to Mrs. Gibson's now. It's a lovely evening. If Mandy's going to sleep in the spare room tomorrow, there's work to be done. You'll need to push all those Red Cross boxes I've been storing to the far wall. They'll have to be labeled too. The bed's made up, but the room should be aired and dusted.”
    I fling my arms around Aunt Em's neck. “Lovely, lovely Aunt Em.”
    “I recognize ‘cupboard love,’ Sophie Mandel. You don't fool me. Up you go then – get started.”
    Opening, labeling, and securing the boxes takes longer than I expect. There is one that must have got mixed in with the others by mistake. It is marked SOPHIE. I open it, thinking it might be outgrown clothes. Usually Aunt Em cuts them up for other things, or gives them to needy families. But the box only holds letters and drawings and a folder with my early report cards. I put it in my room to sort later.

    Aunt Em comes in carrying a little vase of wildflowers from the garden. “Mrs. Gibson said Mandy could visit. So that's taken care of.” She hands me a one pound note.
    “That's an awful lot, Aunt Em. What's it for?”
    “Call it a combination of emergency and fun money. I wouldn't want you to be destitute, without a penny in your pocket.”
    “Thank you very much, Aunt Em.”
    “Go to bed, dear. You've been having too many late nights. I'm surprised you haven't fallen asleep in class.”
    “It is a strain to keep awake sometimes, I admit.”
    Aunt Em laughs and kisses me good night. “I
am
pleased you found your friend again, Sophie.”
    On Thursday, when we go to pick up Mandy's things, Mrs. Gibson gives us homemade scones and Mandy's egg and bacon ration to take home for breakfast next day. Then we hear lecture number one about being responsible, and does Mandy have enough money, etc.
    “Mother,” Mandy says, “you'll see us Saturday, remember? I'm coming home right after my hospital shift to have tea with you before we go to the pictures. Sophie will pick me up when she's finished at nine o'clock so you can check us both over before we cycle home.” She raises her left eyebrow at me.
    Mandy loves the spare room. “Is this the wall next to your bed?”
    “I think so.”
    We experiment for a while sending Morse code messages to each other. Over supper, we get lecture number two from Aunt Em about not coming in too late, and locking up and putting our bikes away, and then we have to write down a list of emergency numbers. We nod yes to everything, and stay up half the night gossiping.
    On Friday morning, the taxi arrives for Aunt Em at 6:30. We wave her off and collapse in the kitchen.
    “Alone at last,” I say.
    “Extra half hour in bed, or breakfast?” Mandy asks, yawning.
    “I'll make us dried egg omelette, and we'll save the real eggs for tomorrow. You make the tea. The secret of making dried eggs slightly less revolting, Mandy, is to stir in the water very slowly so all the powder is dissolved. Not a lump in sight,” I say, and pour the mixture into the hot pan. I grate a bit of cheese on top.
    “Delicious,” Mandy says, with her mouth full. “A bit like pancakes. Actually, I think keeping house is easy. I can't think why mothers make such a fuss about it.”
    It is fun coming home together to our “own” house. We have tea in the garden, and Mandy admits that Simon hopes to see her at the Youth Club tonight.
    “He's so nice, Sophie. Let's go. It's mixed table tennis on Friday nights. Can I borrow your blue blouse?”
    “Yes, and I want to borrow your black leather belt,” I say.
    “Done.”
    We get to the semifinals. Simon and Nigel are our partners and invite us to go to Fred's Fish Bar for chips. Later they walk us home.
    “Night, Sophie. Don't get up in the morning. No point in us both losing our beauty sleep. See you after work tomorrow.”
    “Sleep well, Mandy.”
    I double-check the front door and the