filthy. Alf’s usual runny nose had produced a dirty smear, and his shirt was half out of his trousers. Eleven-year-old Binnie looked just as draggled, her stockings bunched, her hair ribbon untied and the ends hanging down. “Wipe your nose, Alf,” Eileen said. “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you two in school?”
Alf wiped his nose on his sleeve and pointed at Theodore. “’E’s not in school.”
“That’s beside the point. What are you doing here?”
“We seen you goin’ by,” Binnie said.
Alf nodded. “We thought you was leavin’.”
“I didn’t,” Binnie said. “I thought she was going off to meet somebody. Like Una done.” She smiled slyly at Eileen.
“You ain’t leavin’, are you?” Alf asked, looking at Theodore’s suitcase. “We don’t want you to. You’re the only one wot’s nice to us, you are. Mrs. Bascombe and Una ain’t.”
“Una sneaks off to meet a soldier,” Binnie said. “In the woods.”
Alf nodded. “We followed ’er on ’er half-day out.”
Binnie shot him such a deadly look that Eileen wondered if they’d been following her on her half-day as well. She’d have to make certain they were in school next week. If that were possible. The vicar, Mr. Goode—a serious young man—had already been to the manor twice to discuss their repeated truancies. “They seem to be having difficulty adapting to life here,” he’d said.
Eileen thought they’d adapted all too well. Within two days of their having been chosen by Lady Caroline (she had clearly failed to recognize the “nice” ones in their case), they’d mastered apple stealing, bull teasing, vegetable garden trampling, and leaving open every gate in a ten-mile radius. “It’s too bad this evacuation scheme doesn’t work both ways,” Mrs. Bascombe had said. “I’d evacuate them back to London with a luggage label round their necks in a minute. Little hooligans.”
“Mrs. Bascombe says nice girls don’t meet men in the woods,” Binnie was saying.
“Yes, well, nice girls don’t spy on people either,” Eileen said. “And they don’t skip school.”
“Teacher sent us ’ome,” Binnie said. “Alf took ill. ’Is ’ead’s dreadful hot.”
Alf attempted to look ill. “You ain’t leavin’, are you, Eileen?” he asked plaintively.
“No,” she said. Unfortunately. “Theodore is.”
Mistake. Theodore immediately piped up, “I want—”
“You will,” she said, “as soon as the train comes.”
“It ain’t comin’,” Alf said. “Anyway, yestiddy it didn’t.”
“How do you know?” Eileen demanded, but she already knew the answer: They’d skipped school yesterday, too. She marched over to the office and hammered on the door. “Is it true the passenger train sometimes doesn’t come at all?” she said as soon as Mr. Tooley opened the door.
“It—what are you two doin’ here? If I catch you Hodbins again—” He raised his fist threateningly, but Binnie and Alf had already darted down the platform, jumped off the end, and disappeared. “You tell them two to stop throwing rocks at the train, or I’ll have ’em up on charges,” he shouted, his face red. “Criminals! They’ll end up in Wandsworth.”
Eileen was inclined to agree with him, but she couldn’t let herself be sidetracked. “Is it true the train didn’t come at all yesterday?”
He nodded reluctantly. “Trouble on the line, but they’ll likely have fixed it by now.”
“But you don’t know for certain?”
“No. You tell them two I’ll set the constable on ’em if they come round here again.” He stomped back into the office.
Oh, dear. They couldn’t stay here all night, not knowing whether the train would come or not. Theodore’s face was already pinched with cold, and with the blackout, station lights weren’t allowed. If the train came after dark, it might not even see them waiting and wouldn’t stop. She’d have to take him all the way back to the manor and try again tomorrow. But his ticket was for today, and she had no way to get in touch with his mother and tell her he wasn’t coming. She peered anxiously down the track, looking for a glimpse of smoke above the bare trees.
“I’ll wager the line was out ’cause there was a train wreck,” Binnie said, appearing from behind a pile of sleepers.
“I’ll wager a jerry plane flew over and dropped a bomb and the whole train blew up,” Alf said. They clambered up onto the platform. “Boom! Arms and legs everywhere! And ’eads!”
“That’s enough of that,” Eileen said. “You two go back to school.”
“We can’t,” Binnie protested. “I told you, Alf’s got a fever. His ’ead’s—”
Eileen clapped her hand to Alf’s perfectly cool forehead. “He hasn’t any fever. Now go.”
“We can’t,” Alf said. “School’s let