“I’ll wager it’s an air raid,” Alf said, “and the jerries are goin’ to start droppin’ bombs on us any minute.”
“We’ve probably stopped to let a troop train pass,” Eileen said, “and we’ll start again in just a bit.” But they didn’t.
The minutes wore on, the compartment grew hotter, and the number of passengers milling about in the corridor increased. Eileen tried to distract the children with a game of I Spy.
“I’ll wager there’s a spy on the train and that’s why we’ve stopped,” Alf said. “I knew that man who wouldn’t let me sit by the window was a fifth columnist. ’E’s gonna blow up the train.”
“I don’t want—” Theodore began.
“There is not a bomb on the train,” Eileen said, and the guard came in, looking grim.
“Sorry to inconvenience you, madam,” he said, “but I’m afraid we must evacuate the train. You need to collect your things and leave the train.”
“Evacuate?”
“I told you,” Alf said. “There’s a bomb, ain’t there?”
The guard ignored him. “What was your destination, madam?”
“London,” Eileen said. “But—?”
“You’ll be taken by bus the rest of the way,” he said and left before they could ask any more questions.
“Gather up your things,” Eileen said. “Alf, fold up your map. Binnie, hand me my book. Theodore, put on your coat.”
“I don’t want to blow up,” Theodore said. “I want to go home.”
“You won’t blow up, dunderhead,” Binnie said, standing on the seat to take down their luggage. “If it was a bomb, they wouldn’t let you take anything with you,” which made sense.
And it’s a good thing there isn’t one, Eileen thought, wrestling the three of them and the luggage out into the corridor and down to the end of the car, or we’d never make it out in time.
The other passengers were already off the train and standing on the gravel next to the tracks. The headmistress was shouting at the guard. “Are you telling me we’re expected to walk all the way to the nearest village?”
It was obvious that that was exactly what was expected. Several passengers had already set off across the meadow carrying their bags. “I’m afraid so, madam,” the guard said. “It’s not far. You can see the steeple of the church just beyond those trees. A bus should arrive within the hour.”
“I still don’t understand why you can’t take us on to the next station. Or back to—”
“I’m afraid we can’t do that. There’s another train behind us.” He leaned toward her, lowering his voice. “There’s been an incident on the line ahead.”
“I told you there was a bomb,” Alf said. He shoved his way past the headmistress. “What’d ’e blow up?”
The guard glared at him. “A railway bridge.” He turned back to the headmistress. “We greatly regret the inconvenience, madam. Perhaps this boy could help you carry your bags.”
“No, thank you, I will manage on my own.” She turned to Eileen. “I warn you that I have no intention of sharing a bus with a snake,” she said and set off grimly across the meadow after the others.
“Was it a Dornier what dropped the bomb?” Alf, undaunted, asked the guard. “Or a Heinkel III?”
“Come along, Alf,” Eileen said and dragged him away.
“If the train’d been a few minutes earlier,” he mused, “we’d been on that bridge when they dropped the bomb.”
And you and your snake were the ones who made the train late, Eileen thought, remembering the headmistress shaking her finger and the stationmaster looking anxiously at his watch. Which she supposed meant she should be grateful, but somehow she couldn’t manage it. The grass in the meadow was knee-high and impossible to walk through while carrying luggage. Theodore made it a quarter of the way and then demanded to be carried. Alf refused to carry Theodore’s duffel, and Binnie dawdled behind.
“Stop picking flowers and come along,” Eileen said.
“I’m pickin’ a name,” Binnie said. “Daisy. Daisy Odbin.”
“Or Skunk Cabbage Odbin,” Alf said.
Binnie ignored him. “Or Violet. Or Mata.”
“What sort of flower’s that?”
“It ain’t a flower, slowcoach. It’s a spy. Mata ’Ari. Mata ’Ari Odbin.”
“I’m hot,” Alf said. “Can’t we stop and rest?”
“Yes,” Eileen said, even though the rest of the passengers were far ahead. Or perhaps that was just as well, considering. She set Theodore down. “Alf, they won’t let you take your snake on the bus. You need to let it go.”
“’Ere?” Alf said. “There ain’t nothin’ for Bill to eat ’ere.” He pulled the writhing snake not out of his haversack, but out of his pocket. “’E’ll starve.”