Dear Mama,

Thanks for the tomato soup. I drank it on the journey and it kept me right cosy. I guess that thermos flask for my birthday came in handy, huh? After a long painful journey, we arrived at Silverdale. It’s only a small village outside stroud. It’s nothing like my Carbroin street though. It’s very silent.

As soon as we were there, loads of people came and chose which children to claim. It felt like being at the cattle market. Luckily enough, I was snagged 2nd! I think it’s because I’m pretty good looking, a lot of doll dizzy boys back home call me a cookie after all.

Anyway, the lucky geezer who got the honour of caring for me is called Ivy Jones. Her house is on 35 Malango lane, and she lives in a cute wooden cottage close to the town centre. Her water is provided from a little well in her garden. To work it you need to crank the bucket up by turning a big handle on the side of it. Mrs Jones treats me well nice. She makes me get water from the well and occasionally tidies some rooms in the house, she then makes me a nice cuppa ginger tea (sometimes mint). She has an odd accent but I think it sums up her personality.

My room in this cute cottage is in the attic. I love it because I’m tall enough to look out the window and see across the valley on a star-shone night. It feels like I’m in a fantasy, the moon shining down on me as the nightingales chant their chorus. In this time of hour, I pray for our family and the king. When the sun rises up I’m awakened to the sound of a cockerel, and trust me, it doesn’t half make a racket. Luckily, Mrs Jones has chickens! She lets me get the eggs and then sometimes allows me to cook a surprise breakfast for us (I usually make scrambled eggs, but I like to go fried the odd time). She also has a gorgeous flower garden, and a vegetable garden. There aren’t many cars around here, we only get donkeys pulling carts ever so often.

You want to know something that’s partly shocked me? Mrs Jones doesn’t actually pay for the majority of the house, her husband Mr Jones is actually the breadwinner of the two. I didn’t find out that she had a husband to long ago, that’s because he usually works away for a week or two. It does make sense though since he’s the man of the house, but it still slightly shocked me. Another surprising thing about Mrs Jones is that she actually has a fox for a pet!! I didn’t even know you could do that, especially with chickens but somehow she’s managed. The fox is very well tamed. She’s called Orla and she’s really soft. I think she likes me, because when I’m just sitting down she snuggles into my lap. It’s adorable! To be able to train a fox to be so calm, you must be pretty ace with animals.

Mangalo Lane is only a small village on a hillside with only about 25 houses. There’s these little pathways that criss-cross between the houses. Mrs Jones told me they were called ‘laggers’ and each one has their own name. There’s one called twisted lamb chops and whenever I walk past I get a craving for them. All the fields and scenery is nice, but it’s nothing like home, and it never will be.

Each morning, Mrs Jones will send me to Betty high. I always carry my gas mask on the way as I’ve promised to geezer and little Orla. Luckily enough for me it’s only a one minute walk (as you know I’m terrible with long hikes). Many of us go there. There we have to pray for the country and sing a hymn. I sit at the back of the schoolroom with my copybook and slate, I’m making a massive effort on my handwriting and numbers, and I’m becoming a pretty ace person at it. 

We eat our lunch on the grass outside. Mrs Jones usually packs me a jam sandwich, sometimes she chucks in a slim slice of meatloaf for a treat. Many of the boys eat turnips that they’ve dug up (well i actually dig them up but i give them the credit) on the way to school. We all sneak into the farms and dig them up. I usually get some extras like tomatoes or some carrots for myself because I’m not that keen on turnips. They usually thank me and ask me how I’m so brave and strong considering I’m a girl and all. We wash the fruit and veg in puddles and dry them on the grass or our shirts. I didn’t try a turnip but the carrots and tomatoes were really ripe! Overall I would say the boys here are pretty alright. They have taught me a lot of new games like jacks and marbles, and the girls are good at hopscotch and skipping rope.

I wish the best for you and Michel mama. I think of you every hour of the day. I hope that dad is going to beat ****** to a crisp and go home, he seems like a knucklehead. I’ll write more soon, please write back to me mama.

Your loving daughter- Maranda.