just be a tiny moment in time for them. I think you should do what feels right with Abigail. Do what feels right to you. Lizzie, she’s really fond of you. And if she has lost her parents, it might make sense for her to stay with you for a little while until she feels better. I can’t imagine if the authorities do take her that it’s going to be any better than being here with us. We can all take care of her between us when I’m back from work, and there’s always Agnes to help out. As much as she’s a worrier, she adores children, and then you can see her every night when you get back. You could even enrol her in the small school down the road for a few months until the Christmas holidays. It might do her good to make some friends, and maybe she’ll start to talk.’
‘Well, let’s see what tomorrow brings,’ said Lizzie, shaking her head. ‘I’ll take her to the Red Cross orphanage because maybe her family is waiting for her and all of this will be sorted out. But thank you, Julia. Thank you for offering her a home here.’
‘Of course,’ said Julia. ‘You and Diana are like family to me now. I miss John and my children with all my heart, and my goodness, I was lonely before I met you. You have been both such a rock through all this madness.’
As if on cue the air-raid siren screeched into life and they both sighed deeply. Julia put the cups in the sink and prepared the bags they kept packed by the back door while Lizzie went upstairs to get Abigail to take her to the shelter.
Lizzie thought about all this as she lay there in bed the next morning, and as she looked over at this little cherub, she knew with a sinking heart she’d have to be prepared to give her away today.
As she dressed, Lizzie tried once more to coax her to speak, asking her what she would like for breakfast or whether she’d like a toy or something to drink. Abigail just stared up at her mutely, blinking wide blue eyes through her blonde hair.
After they finished breakfast, Julia offered to come with Lizzie to the Red Cross station, as she wasn’t working that day. Getting their coats on and picking up their gas masks, they made their way down to the address that she’d been given by the Red Cross office the day before.
Nothing could have prepared them for what would greet them: lines and lines of people all looking for loved ones or dropping off children. It was so busy. They had to stay standing in line for two hours before they finally got to the front of the queue, where a rather tired-looking woman with a curt attitude looked at the three of them. Lizzie explained the situation, and peering down at Abigail, the woman sucked in a breath and blew out her cheeks.
‘We have so many of them,’ she sniffed. ‘God, I don’t know how we’re going to feed half of them. Fill out this form, and if you want to leave her here, you can sit her on that bench over there.’
Lizzie looked across the room where a whole line of labelled children were sitting on a bench. She couldn’t imagine leaving Abigail over there and just walking away.
Sensing her horror, the woman spoke again. ‘It’s the best we can do,’ she retorted defensively. ‘I know it’s not ideal. On the other hand, if you fill in this form, tell us about the little girl, where you found her, et cetera, you could take her home, temporarily. Then if somebody’s looking for her, they can contact you as long as we have a record of her and you don’t mind keeping her for a couple of days while they’re digging people out or identifying people in hospital. And we’ll keep looking for her parents.
‘Honestly love,’ she said, leaning forward and lowering her voice to a whisper, ‘it’s a much better idea than putting her in the home here. The people are kind, but we’re really overcrowded. It’s an unfortunate time for everyone at the moment, and the children are crying all the time.’
Lizzie looked in shock across at Julia, who seemed to make the decision for them.
‘Thank you very much. We’ll be taking Abigail back with us. We’ll fill in the form.’
‘Best option,’ agreed the woman. ‘Here’s your form. Fill