THE JOURNEY 

By Tessa Harvey

    Josie hadn't a clue how to pray. She had memorised "The Lord's Prayer" at primary school, so she said the words with much more feeling than she had as a child. Then she cried out "God help me and my family, and the hospital in town and all the people," just as the wall shivered and swayed and slowly began to topple. Screaming, she scuttled sideways like an ungainly crab and landed with a thump in someone's doorway.
    Miraculously (she hoped) the door opened, she was dragged inside, someone heaved her out of the way and locked her in. The man, peering short-sightedly down at her did not look like an evil murderer. He was elderly, unsteady and shaking with fear. "No water, no heat, no gas," he mumbled. "Got milk or lemonade, miss, if you like?"
    Josie nodded, bemused. It all felt so unreal. Her neighbour was minding the little ones, but there was nothing she could do except pray.
    In Paris her daughter had decided to try to get up, worried the housekeeper would cause trouble. There was a knock on her bedroom door. Now what?

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