Read The War that Saved My Life for Free Online

me, but Miss Smith pulled a little notebook out of her purse and wrote something down.
    “They’re pretty severely malnourished,” he said. “Looks like rickets starting in the girl. Lots of sunlight for her. Good food. Milk.”
    “But what do I do with them?” Miss Smith said. “I’ve never been around children.”
    “Feed them, bathe them, make sure they get plenty of sleep,” the doctor said. “They’re no more difficult than puppies, really.” He grinned. “Easier than horses.”
    “The horses belonged to Becky,” Miss Smith snapped, “and I never had a dog.”
    “Who’s Becky?” Jamie asked. I shushed him.
    “And what about Ada’s foot?” Miss Smith said. “What am I supposed to do about that?”
    I tucked my foot beneath me. Miss Smith tapped my knee. “Show him,” she said.
    I didn’t want to. I didn’t want them touching me more. My foot was out of sight, bandaged, and I was managing to walk some, and I thought that ought to be enough.
    Miss Smith yanked my foot out. “Behave,” she said.
    The doctor unwrapped the bandage. “My, my,” he said, cradling my foot in his hand. “An untreated clubfoot. I’ve never seen one before.”
    “I thought clubfeet were rather common,” said Miss Smith.
    “Oh, yes. Certainly. But nearly always successfully resolved in infancy.”
    Miss Smith sucked in her breath in a way I didn’t understand. “But why wouldn’t—” She looked at me and made her voice stop.
    Successfully resolved, I thought. My foot was not successfully resolved. It sounded like I’d done something wrong. Mam always said my foot was my fault. I’d always wondered whether that was true.
    And clubfoot. That was my foot. A clubfoot.
    The doctor poked at my clubfoot and twisted it and stared until I couldn’t bear it anymore. I thought of Butter, how he smelled so warm and good, how his breath felt against my hand. Instead of going to an empty place in my head, now I could go to where Butter was, and that was easy.
    “Ada,” Miss Smith said loudly, “Ada. Come back. Dr. Graham asked you a question.” She was tapping my face. The doctor had wrapped my foot in a fresh bandage. It was over.
    “Are you in very much pain?” he repeated.
    How much was very much? What did he want me to say? I shrugged.
    “Did you understand what he said about seeing a specialist?” Miss Smith said.
    I looked at her. She looked back.
    “Yes or no?” she said.
    I shook my head.
    Miss Smith and the doctor exchanged glances. I felt like I’d said the wrong thing.
    “Dr. Graham thinks a specialist might be able to operate on your foot.”
    I didn’t know what a specialist was. I didn’t know what they meant by the word operate . But I knew better than to ask questions. “Okay,” I said.
    Miss Smith smiled. “It sounds scary, I know, but it would be a wonderful thing. I’ll write to your mother right away, to ask her permission. I can’t imagine she’ll object. Meanwhile Dr. Graham’s fetching a pair of crutches for you.”
    Crutches were long pieces of wood you stuck under your armpits, so you could walk using the crutches and one good foot. Your bad foot, if you had one, didn’t have to touch the ground at all.
    Crutches didn’t hurt.
    The doctor said, “See? I knew she could smile,” and Miss Smith shook her head and said, “I don’t believe it.”

    The doctor’s place was right in town, near the train station. On crutches I didn’t need a taxi, so we walked right down the main street. I walked down the street, bad foot and all, and nobody stopped me. We went into the shops and bought meat and veg and groceries. I went into the shops and nobody turned me out. At one point Miss Smith said, “Ada, would you hand me three of those apples?” I’d been careful not to touch anything up until then, but when she asked I figured it must be okay, and I did it and it was. The shopkeeper didn’t even look at me.
    The shops had so much stuff in them they gave me a jittery feeling.