Page 60 of The Unknown Birds

“Are you my father?” the little girl asked, tilting her head to one side.

“No,” Ash said. “I’m… Charley.”

“Charley? Is that you?” her mother exclaimed, yanking the door wide and pulling Ash into a fierce one-armed embrace while the other arm held a second toddler on her hip.

“Mum?” Ashley asked, feeling as though in stepping off the train platform she’d passed through Alice’s looking glass. Her mother looked the same, and yet the flat was topsy-turvy, even smelling like some other family’s home.

“Sorry, love, I was changing this one’s nappy,” her mother said, setting the little boy on his wobbly legs. With a pat on his bottom she pointed him towards the girl. “Go and play with sissy now.”

Then she turned back to Ashley, pulling her into another crushing embrace, and kissed her check before examining her from head to toe with tear-filled eyes.

“You look thin,” she said.

“C’est la guerre,” Ash replied with a shrug.

“Doesn’t the army feed you? Let me get you some tea.”

“Who are they?” Ashley asked, watching the children play across the room, like little phantasms of baby Charles and Charley etched into the memory of the walls.

“Dorrie and Michael,” her mother explained as she put the kettle on. “The neighbor’s children, do you remember? Her husband’s away, of course, and she’s working in the munitions, so I keep them during the day.”

Guilt swept over Ash. “Do you need money? Should I be sending more home?”

“No.” Her mother huffed out a laugh. “I need the company. They’re such a handful, they keep my mind off things. Besides, you’re doing your part, and I want to do mine.”

Across the room, Michael knocked down a stack of blocks Dorrie had been building and she shoved him to the ground, where he began to cry.

“How long are you home for?”

Ash propped her rifle in the corner and dropped her haversack beside it. “Just a few days.”

“I got your postcard. You were in hospital?” her mum asked, eyeing the gun.

“I’m fine,” Ash said.

“What happened?”

“I was careless. I’ll be all right. Everyone gets leave now and then, and my captain thought I needed a rest.” She glanced back at the children again, blonde little angels, wrestling on the floor.

“They won’t be a bother. I’ll keep them quiet.” She poured Ashley a cup of tea with a little sugar and offered her a plate with fruit and jam biscuits. “Do you want a wash? Leave out your things and I’ll clean them for you.”

“I can do it, Mum.”

“I want to,” her mother said. “Is there anything special you’d like to eat?”

Ash couldn’t even remember what real food was. “I’ll eat what’s put in front of me, but thank you.”

Her mother shook her head, trying to hide her glassy eyes. “My dearest darling. I can’t believe you’re here.”

That night Ash laid awake for hours, tossing and turning in the too-soft bed, listening to the too-quiet sounds of nighttime. She didn’t miss the drone of war exactly, but she’d grown accustomed to sleeping at all hours, hearing the cacophony of shouted voices and soft snores of her comrades, the chirrups of frogs, the changing of the watch.

At some point, she threw her blanket and pillow onto the rug and curled herself up on the floor, finally drifting off into a restless sleep.

The children came again the next morning, so Ash went out to visit Wintter’s Bakery.

“You look thin,” Frau Wintter told her, echoing her mother, before pulling her into another tight embrace. She smelled like honey and chocolate and home.

“The Franzbrötchen was very much appreciated last Christmas. Thank you,” Ashley told her, kissing her cheek.