The War that Saved My Life by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley

“Your mam ain’t come for you?”
“No. She doesn’t want us.”
He nodded. “Just as well. She shouldn’t’ve shut you up like she did.”
I shivered as the wind whipped higher. “It was because of my foot.”
Stephen shook his head. “Foot’s the same, isn’t it?” he said. “And you’re
not shut up now. Come to tea sometime. The colonel likes having visitors.”
When everyone had gone I stood just outside the door of the shelter. I didn’t
like it. It was dark and damp and cold; it smelled like Mam’s cupboard
beneath the sink. Goose bumps rose on my arms, and my stomach churned. I
didn’t go inside.
Susan stocked the shelter with blankets, bottles of water, candles, and
matches. She said air raid sirens would go off if enemy planes were coming to
bomb us. We would hear the sirens and run into the shelter, and be safe.
“What about Bovril?” Jamie asked anxiously.
Bovril could come into the shelter. Susan found an old basket with a lid on
it, and put it into the shelter. If Bovril was scared, Jamie could shut him in the
basket.
“He won’t be scared,” Jamie said. “He’s never scared.”
Butter wouldn’t fit in the shelter.