“Dear Polly,

Poor you! It must be so hard for you. I can understand how you feel. I’m very sorry, Polly. Is Bernadette very upset too? Well, that was a weird question, she obviously is, but is she more upset than you are? She was always sucking up to your mother. Was there any funeral, Polly? Isn’t your father going to organise one? He should, really. I mean, everyone has to have a funeral. Well. I suppose they don’t have to, but…still! Here the matrons are being has horrid has ever, always shouting and screaming and whacking us. The head matron has a whip now! An actual whip! She threatens to use it but only the little ones really believe her. We know she is only trying to scare us. I hate it there – we can’t write. I’m writing to you with a feather and mud, and with only a flickering candle. Sorry if this is messy. I can’t really see what I’m doing and the mud isn’t good for writing with. Sorry Polly! Uh oh I must go!! I think one of the matrons are coming!

Love Dolly xxx.” I fold up the letter as fast as I can and stuff it in my pocket. Then I hurry across to my bed. I can hear footsteps out in the hall, it must be a matron. I climb into bed. My heart is thumping. The door handle it twisting. I pull the sheets over me and shut my eyes just as the creaky door opens. There’s silence for a moment. Then I hear the matron walking towards my bed. I breathe deeply and squeeze my eyes shut. I’m not allowed write at night time. I’m not allowed write at all – it’s very risky, but I risk it for Polly. The matron stands beside my bed and bends over. Her face is right beside mine. I can feel and smell her foul breath. My heart is thumping. My body goes cold. I breathe deeply. The matron stands up. “Those children!” I hear her mutter as she walks out the room and shuts the door loudly. I take a deep breath. That was close! Very close. I was caught writing letters at night a few months ago and got hit and locked in the attic. I’m daring enough to do it again though. That’s just me. I pull the letter out of my pocket and slip it into the brown envelope that I ‘borrowed’ from the head matron’s office. I borrow things a lot. I seal the envelope by licking it and with the mud feather, I write Polly’s name and address at the back. I then creep out of bed and go over to the window and peek down. John Maguire, the postman, (the kindest postman ever), is waiting down under the window, on the bare rocky Tarmac that lies below. He grins at me at puts his thumb up. I grin back and put my thumb up. I open the window and throw the letter out. John catches it and waves goodbye. He’ll go and post it for me. I wave back. John is the nicest man ever. He posts all my letters to Polly and gives me the letters from her. I like him very much. He hurries off and I shut the window and climb into bed. I smile and go to sleep. I know now that my letter will be posted safely.

PART 2 COMING SOON!!