The War that Saved My Life by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley

please. My head feels like it’s smashed in two. A trot would be the end of
me.”
Her name was Margaret. Her mother was the head of the Women’s
Volunteer Service, which was why she was in charge of the evacuees. “But
that’s not all,” Margaret said. “She does war work all the time. She’s trying to
stay busy so she doesn’t have time to worry about Jonathan. She wants to win
the war herself before he’s part of the fighting.” Jonathan, Margaret’s brother,
was learning to fly planes at a different airfield, far from here. He’d left
Oxford to do it, Margaret said.
“You talk like our evacuees,” she said. “The same funny accent.”
I said, “You talk funny to me.”
She laughed. “I guess. But you can ride, and our evacuees, the ones staying
with us, I mean, are all terrified of horses. Where’d you learn to ride in
London?”
“Didn’t. Just teaching myself here.”
“Well, you’re pretty good.”
“On a posh horse like this one, anyone would be,” I said. “Our pony has
me off half a dozen times a day.”
“Ponies are snakes,” she replied. “Sneaky devils. You should see what
mine gets up to.”
It turned out the horse we were riding was her brother’s hunter, and her
mother was making her keep it exercised. “Just until I leave for school,” she
said. “Which should have been last week, only they’re moving the school,
evacuating it, I suppose, so we’re starting late. And I hate this horse, I do, and
he hates me. Goes like a lamb for anybody else. Mum won’t believe me, and
he’s worse when he’s by himself, and he won’t pony with my mare, so I’m
stuck fighting him alone for an hour a day. All the stable lads have run off to
join up and Grimes is overworked and there’s nobody to go with me.”
All this talk—which I only half understood—seemed to suddenly exhaust
her. She sagged against my shoulder. “You’re all right?” I asked.
“Not really,” she said. “I feel sick.”
The horse swung authoritatively around a corner. I hoped he knew where
he was going. He seemed to, and anyway, Margaret wasn’t telling me
anything different.
She swayed suddenly. I wished I was behind her, so I could hold her
steady. “Maggie?” I said. There was a Margaret on our lane and everyone