there was, that it wasn’t over Oxford Street. The idea of being in an air raid was terrifying. I should have researched the Blitz so I’d know where and when they were, she thought. But it had never occurred to her that she would need to know those things.
Polly had said the Underground stations had been used as shelters. She could go there if there was a raid. But not all of them were safe—she remembered Colin giving Polly a list of the ones which had been hit, but she couldn’t remember which ones he’d said.
Once I find Polly, I’ll be all right, Eileen thought. She knows everything about the Blitz. Thank goodness she knew what name Polly was using and could ask for Miss Sebastian instead of—
“Polly,” Binnie said.
“What?” Eileen asked sharply, thinking for an awful moment that she’d spoken her thoughts aloud.
“What about Polly? For my name. Polly ’Odbin. Or Molly. Or Vronica.” She shoved the magazine at Eileen and pointed at a photo of Veronica Lake. “Do I look like a Vronica?”
“You look like a toad,” Alf said.
“I do not,” Binnie said and whacked him with the magazine. “Take it back.”
“I won’t!” Alf shouted, shielding his head with his arms. “Toad ’Odbin! Toad ’Odbin!”
One more day, Eileen thought, separating them. I’ll never make it. “Alf, do your planespotting,” she ordered. “Binnie, read your magazine. Theodore, come here and I’ll tell you a story. Once upon a time there was a princess. A wicked witch locked her in a tiny room with two evil monsters—”
“Look,” Alf said. “A barrage balloon!”
“Where?” Theodore asked.
“There.” Alf pointed out the window. “That big silver thing. They use ’em to keep the jerries from dive-bombing.”
That meant they must be nearing London, but when Eileen looked out the window, they were still in the country, and she couldn’t see anything that remotely resembled a barrage balloon.
“You seen a cloud,” Binnie said, but the only clouds were faint, feathery lines crisscrossing the expanse of vivid blue. Looking out at the sky and the passing fields and trees and quaint villages, with their stone churches and thatched cottages, it was difficult to imagine they were in the middle of a war.
Or that they would ever get to London. The afternoon wore on. Alf marked nonexistent Stukas and Bristol Blenheims on his map, Binnie murmured, “Claudette… Olivia… Katharine ’Epburn ’Odburn,” and Theodore fell asleep. Eileen went back to reading the paper. On page four, there was an ad encouraging parents to enroll their children in the Overseas Programme. “Have the comfort of knowing they’re safe,” it read.
Unless they’re on the City of Benares, she thought, looking worriedly at Alf and Binnie. Today was the ninth. If Mrs. Hodbin took them to the office tomorrow and they left for Portsmouth on Wednesday, they might very well end up on the City of Benares. It had sailed on the thirteenth and been sunk four days later.
“I’m hot,” Binnie said, fanning herself with her magazine. It was hot. The afternoon sun was streaming in, but pulling down the shade wasn’t an option. It had been designed for the blackout and shut out all light. And it would deprive Alf of his planespotting, and he’d think up some other mischief.
“I’ll open the window,” Alf said and jumped up on the plush seat. There was a sudden jerk, a whoosh of releasing steam, and the train began to slow sharply.
“What did you do?” Eileen said.
“Nuthin’.”
“I’ll wager he pulled the emergency cord,” Binnie said.
“I never,” Alf said hotly.
“Then why’s the train stoppin’?” she asked.
“Did you let Bill out?” Eileen demanded.
“No.” He rummaged in his haversack and held up the wriggling snake. “See?” He shoved it back in and jumped down. “I’ll wager we’re comin’ to a station.”
He darted for the door. “I’ll go see.”
“No, you will not,” Eileen said, grabbing him. “You three stay here. Binnie, watch Theodore. I’ll go see.” But no station was visible in either direction from the corridor, only a meadow with a stream meandering through it. Several people had come out into the corridor, including the headmistress. Oh, dear, she was still on the train.
“Do you know what’s happening?” one of the passengers asked.
The headmistress turned and glared directly at Eileen. “I suspect someone pulled the communications cord.”
Oh, God, Eileen thought, ducking back into the compartment. They’ll put us off the train in the middle of nowhere. She shut the door and stood there with her back to it.