The Match (EBOOK)

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PROLOGUE
Preston 12th September 1917

Florrie stepped into the street, pulled the front door closed behind her, and walked briskly down the hill, her footsteps echoing back from the terraced houses on either side.
It was barely five o’clock, but the afternoon light was fading fast and a shroud of autumn mist hung in the air.
Ahead of her, a group of children huddled together on the kerb playing with a wooden toy that might once have been a horse. A small girl in a faded dress, clutched a doll to her chest and rocked it violently.
“Gently, Maisy, lest her head falls off,” Florrie warned as she passed, but the girl merely giggled.
Smiling to herself, Florrie walked on. The lamplighter would be along soon and pools of golden light would glisten on the pavement beneath each lamp post, but until then, the street, the houses, even the sky, slipped slowly into the dusk.
At the bottom of the hill, the street veered to the right. As Florrie turned the corner, a splatter of raindrops caught her, leaving strands of curly, blonde hair clinging to her cheeks.
Pausing to pull her shawl over her head, she prodded her hair back from her face before hurrying on. She must not be late. Not again. Having her wages docked once was bad enough, she had no intention of enduring another lecture from Mrs Cronshaw.
It was six months since Florrie started work at the Dick, Kerr Munition Works and yesterday had been the first time she was late.
One of the girls coming off a shift in the stemming shop had collapsed by the entrance gates and Florrie stopped to help, but the Welfare Officer had refused to listen to her explanation.
“Don’t waste my time with excuses,” Mrs Cronshaw had snapped. “Rules are rules. If you’re not inside the building when the siren sounds, your wages will be docked.”
Florrie bristled at the memory. Why did the woman take such pleasure from putting people in their place? What gave her the right to judge?
Suddenly a noise cut across her thoughts, an agonised howl, like an animal caught in a trap.
She listened, and the sound came again, sending a shiver down her spine.
Ahead of her, an alleyway led between the houses. She knew it was there. She knew every inch of these streets, but in the gloom, she couldn’t make out the opening until the shadowy figure of a boy ran in front of her and disappeared into the darkness.
The slap of his footsteps on the wet cobbles mingled with children jeering. Had they caught a stray dog? Or a cat?
Running forward, Florrie reached the entrance to the alleyway. It was shadowed by the adjacent houses and, for a moment, she could see nothing, then as her eyes acclimatized, she caught a movement. In the gloom, three boys were standing, sticks in hands, prodding something, then jumping back, laughing.
“Let it be!”
Florrie didn’t wait to think. Whatever animal the boys had cornered, she had no intention of letting it suffer.
“Get away, you little beasts!”
Grabbing the nearest boy, she yanked him backwards.
“Gerroff me!” the lad protested but Florrie twisted his ear and swung him around to face her. Dropping their sticks, the boy’s companions fled to the safety of the street.
“There’s enough cruelty in this world without you tormenting God’s creatures,” she yelled at the boy before releasing her grip and watching him sprint after the others.
Turning back, Florrie strained her eyes to see what was hiding in the shadows.
As she bent down, a break in the clouds allowed a faint glow to fill the alleyway. The creature in front of her was not an animal. It was a man.
Shock sent her crashing backwards, her heart pounding. For a moment she hesitated, ready to run, but the figure didn’t move. She could see his outline now. Crouched, not quite sitting, his head down, his arms trailing on the ground.
“Are you hurt?” she asked, but there was no answer, only the uneven rasp of his breath.
As she watched, the man’s head turned from side to side as if listening, and his left arm twitched incessantly.
She guessed he was one of the returned soldiers. One of the lucky ones who had survived the trenches and had been sent home to recover from his injuries.
“Do you live round here? I can…”
Without warning, the man lurched forward and Florrie saw the gash across his face and the empty socket which had once contained an eye.
Fear and revulsion overwhelmed her. Turning to run, she barreled into a figure blocking the alleyway behind her.
“What’re you doing to him?” The woman demanded. Her face was little more than a smudge in the gloom but the set of her shoulders was unflinching.
“Me?” Florrie gasped, her stomach churning. “Nothing. I was trying to help.”
“Then leave him be. He ain’t done no harm.”
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t…” Florrie broke off as bile rose in her throat and she fought to control a wave of nausea.
Pushing past her, the woman bent low and held out a hand.
“Come on, son. Let’s get you home. You’ve no business being here.”
“Shouldn’t he be in hospital?” Florrie asked but the woman only snorted.
“Aye, lass. That he should.”