childhood sense of security, when everything had seemed right with the world.
“I’ve done my best to care for you all,” she said when she released me. “But you’ve got to do your part in keeping safe. Once you’ve left the henhouse, I can’t help you fight the foxes.”
“I know. But you mustn’t worry. Everything is going to be all right. Truly.” I offered her the kind of flashing smile that reminded me of Toby. “Besides, there’s a bit of the old fox in all of us.”
She nodded and then reverted to her own particular brand of affection. “Come and get something to eat, Ellie,” she said.
“All right. I’m half-starved.” I followed her from the workshop, my body stiff from long hours of sitting but my fingers nimble with practice.
I was as ready as I would ever be.
* * *
I dressed all in black for the night we were going to do the job. I didn’t know if it would be appropriate, as I knew very little of what we were actually going to do. It was a bit unsettling, to be so thoroughly in the dark where something like this was concerned. I liked to know the lay of the land, so to speak, especially if there might be danger involved.
Of course, I would have Major Ramsey with me this time. And I had the sneaking suspicion that, unlike Uncle Mick or my cousins, he would be armed. I didn’t really know if this was a positive thing or not. The possibility of violence wasn’t at all comfortable. But I supposed if there was someone who was going to try to do violence to us, at least we were capable of defending ourselves.
We had arranged to meet on a corner a few streets away from the Bell and Harp. The major had offered to send the car for me, but, in the end, we had agreed it would be for the best if we didn’t draw unnecessary attention to me or my residence. Besides, I wasn’t worried about being alone. I had always been able to take care of myself.
And so I slipped out of my flat not long before midnight and began the walk toward the corner where he would pick me up. I said nothing to Nacy about this adventure, and I sincerely hoped that I would be alive and back in my bed by morning.
The streets were eerily quiet. I didn’t know if I would ever get used to the darkness that blanketed everything. London had always seemed so very alive to me, so bright and full of life. Now, suddenly, it was like the city had closed its eyes and fallen into a deep sleep. I reminded myself that asleep was better than dead. Sooner or later, we would wake up again.
I encountered only three or four people in the whole of my walk, and none of them paid me the slightest bit of notice. They were likely going to or from jobs, their minds preoccupied by what had passed or what lay ahead. I supposed the same could be said of me.
I reached the rendezvous point, as Major Ramsey had insisted on calling it, at Sloane Square in plenty of time. The night air was cool, and I stood still in the shadow of the Royal Court Theatre, currently a cinema, breathing it in and listening to the unusual quiet of a city gone dark.
I had heard that some thieves were intensely focused right before a job, that they trained their mind to think of nothing else but the task ahead. I wasn’t among their lot. Oh, I was focused enough, and I was aware of the dangers the night held, but I didn’t allow myself to dwell on them. I would face my challenges as they came and not conjure them up beforehand.
I heard the car before I saw it. There weren’t many on the roads in this area at this time of night, with petrol rationing such as it was and the blackouts making the whole process that much more hazardous.
When the car pulled into view, I couldn’t help but scoff at its utter lack of subtlety. It was big and black and quite official looking. No subterfuge here. The thing might as well have had “His Majesty’s Government” written on the side of it.
It pulled up to the curb and the back door opened. Major Ramsey’s solid form emerged from the car. He was dressed all in black, too, I noted as