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Mia hurried down the dusty alleyway, taking the little six year old boy with her. The thin shoes on her feet echoed on the concrete, her hazel eyes scanning the graffiti on the walls. A thin, scruffy girl rattled a tin begging for money, a pleading look on her face. Mia bent down to whisper in the girl's ear. 'Leave here, it is not safe. Leave before they get you,' and she carried on pacing down the alleyway with the infant at her feet. They passed the rotting body of what was once a skinny boy, as it lay limply on the floor, the ribs and bones protruding through the white skin. Mia walked straight ahead as if she had seen nothing, but she couldn't help tears springing from her eyes and rolling down her pale cheeks like raindrops on a window as she pulled the shocked six year old away.

They reached the open field and she picked the boy up and ploughed through the wheat, tripping occasionally as she ran for the security of the cellar.
She came to the tiny boarded-up window and knocked once, twice, then three times before the board was removed. She passed the boy through the window to the large, grasping hands that had saved her and the other children who now sheltered in the dark, stuffy room out of harm's way. That was when she caught sight of the scruffy band around the six year old's wrist that had 'Bobby' embroidered on it in ivy green font and the star that was sewn to the back of his clothing. He was one of them. He deserved to be safe in the cellar.

Mia sipped the gloopy liquid, a thick film covering the surface, chunks of grey meat bobbing on top. 'His name's Bobby,' Mia said, breaking the awkward silence. Everyone looked at her, nervously waiting for the next part of important information. 'He's one of us' she added. A sigh of relief swept around the cellar like a Mexican wave.

A pair of twins were sitting on a mattress, lighting a candle with one of the last boxes of Bryant and May matches that they had. The flame flickered with an orange glow, casting animated shadows on the peeling paint. Bobby's eyes snapped open at the change of light, revealing three thin mattresses and five sets of eyes that glinted in his direction. As he adjusted to the darkness, he could make out who they belonged to. An older boy was sitting on the mattress next to the twin's and the third was occupied by a younger girl and Mia, the girl who had bought him here.

A large butch man squeezed in through a small door in the side of the wall, looking rather out of place, like a sound system in a library; a bull in a china shop. In his hands he carried a large bowl of steaming liquid and as soon as he placed it on the cold dusty floor, the other children formed a polite line, each with a cup, and in turn scooped up the drink, thanked David (the man) and took it back to their separate mattresses. The youngest girl approached Bobby and handed him her cup as he took in the surroundings. 'Have it' she said, 'I'm not thirst. Rachael' and she held out her hand, waiting for a reply. It took a moment for him to understand it was now his turn to introduce himself. 'Bobby' he eventually replied and hesitated for a second before shaking her small, delicate hand.

Mia looked across the room, studying the older boy's expression. She only knew that his name was Oliver and he hadn't been there long, however he seemed very confident about the area and he knew his way around well. He was quite tall with chocolate coloured hair and very dark eyes and pearl white skin that looked incredibly soft; he was lucky to have survived long enough to be here.

He looked up, meeting her gaze and she smiled as sweetly as a tree bursting into blossom, and for a moment, he lost all sense of reality.

David told everyone he was going to get some 'supplies', which usually meant rations, medicines, matches and blankets. As usual, Oliver followed him, leaving Mia, as the eldest, in charge of the cellar.

Rachael, Bobby and the twins all sat around Mia's mattress, each holding a candle, creating a pocket of light allowing them to see each other. Mia cleared her throat before telling the latest news of the war. 'It is the 20th of February 1940,' she began 'and most of the houses in the area have been deserted and trashed. The Germans are taking Jews just like us away with them to work for nothing and the streets are being cleared of any starving or homeless Jews, of all ages.' The twin's hands tightened around each others and Bobby moved slightly closer to Rachel. 'We are safe here as long s the Nazis don't suspect anything.' A look of relief washed over their faces and David walked in, followed by a groaning Oliver. Blood ran down his face from the deep wound on the side of his head, dying his short, silky hair wine red. Mia jumped up and ran over to him as if he were his own child, a terrified look on her face,
'What happened?' she managed to let out a desperate whisper.
'He'll be OK' David reassured her, 'He's just hit his head, I'll just go and get some dressings to put on it.' Mia relaxed slightly, not taking her eyes off of the wound.
'It's not as bad as it looks; I just slipped down some stairs.' To her surprise, Mia let out a cry and tears ran down her face, taking a suicide leap to the concrete below. Oliver took one look at her and pulled her into a firm embrace, where they stayed for what felt like hours before Mia finally said 'I thought you'd been shot!' He tilted her head up and wiped away the tears and he realized she was weaker than she looked. Inside she must be falling apart, he thought, but she always put on a brave face for the others. She had bought him here, rescued him, and now it was his turn to return the favour. 'Come with us to get supplies next week; where it's OK to cry and feel scared; where you don't have to pretend you are something your not.' He watched her question the offer and knowing what she was about to say he told her, 'The others will be fine. Don't worry about them, worry about yourself for once.'