PHOTO PROMPT © Fatima Fakier Deria
Our old barge nudged the quay.
“Tie us up!” Papa shouted.
I held the rope as though it were something peculiar. ‘Do everything normally,’ Papa had said. Suddenly, I didn’t know what that was but then we’d never hidden an allied airman before.
My eyes tracked across the soldiers and the policeman waiting to inspect the boat.
“You hot?” barked the officer.
“Been cooking breakfast,” Papa interjected, drawing calmly on his pipe.
The officer’s eyes flicked from me to the cabin door; trickling sweat stung my eyes.
“Going north?” he asked, adding impassively, “Might be best to unload before Amsterdam.”
Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.