The letterbox clanks.

I’m sitting on my perch and from here I can pull the side curtain back and see who’s at the door. A flash of gold passes my window. I run to the door and a tall woman with a golden head wrap and a long green coat is crossing the road. She points to the bus that’s just pulling into the stop, gets on and waves to me.

‘Hope!’ I call.

She waves back and then holds her fist in the air as if she’s rallying me on. Then she blows me a kiss and is gone.

I look down at my feet, and there on the mat is a letter addressed to Laila Levenson.

I take it into my room, snuggle up on my perch, open the envelope and take out a newspaper clipping of our vigil: I still can’t believe that it was actually in the paper.

School Celebrates Student’s Anti-Racist Vigil

Young people from Jewish, Muslim, Hindu, Christian and No-faiths came together to stand up against racism in a moving vigil dedicated to Stan and Dara Braverman, Kindertransport refugees.

Stan’s grave was one of the many recently defiled in Jewish cemeteries across the city. The Mayor of London said, ‘We applaud this moving ceremony led by young people. It gives us hope for a better future.’

Dara Braverman of north London said she had been in despair but that her spirits had been lifted by the young campaigners’ clear message against racism and religious intolerance of any kind. The vigil was organized by twelve-year-old Laila Levenson. She said, ‘One of my best friends is from a refugee family from Iraq, and my other best friend’s gran and grandad came to this country on the Kindertransport, so we wanted to stand together to protest about these acts of racism and show everyone that they’re not being done in our names . . .’

I can’t believe it was me and my friends who made all this happen. It feels like a long time ago since the letter from Protest Simon arrived for Mira. But this one is definitely addressed to me, and my hands are shaking as I unfold it and begin to read.

Dear Laila,

I am writing with sad and happy news.

Simon died a few days ago, but his last wish was that I send this letter to you. I wrote down exactly what he said, so here it is.

‘Thank you for coming to pick up your Nana Josie’s Protest Book. The moment I met you – when I opened my eyes and thought you were a young Josie sitting in the sunlight – I had a feeling about you. So I was over the moon when Hope brought me this newspaper clipping of you and your friends on your vigil, holding the same banners we all used. I knew I was right to hand that Banner Bag over to you. Your Nana Josie would have been right there by your side.’

Simon was always saying how he wanted to choose his moment of parting. He died with the newspaper article of your protest in his hands. He left us sitting by the yucca plant, bathed in sunshine, meditating. His trainers sat empty by his side!

With love,

Hope X