She wanted me to be a cripple. It didn’t make sense. The moon rose. I watched the patterns its light made on the ceiling. A cripple, and nothing but a cripple. “Jamie,” I said, poking him, “I caught a spy.” “I know,” he said. “And I learned to ride Butter, and we jumped the stone wall. Fred needs me.” “Mmmm,” said Jamie, rolling over. “And I can read and write, and knit, and sew. I helped the soldiers during Dunkirk week. And Maggie and Daisy like me,” I said. “Susan loves you,” Jamie said. “She loves both of us,” I said. “I know,” said Jamie. He sniffed. “I want Bovril.” I didn’t reply. I
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