“Alf, what did you do?” Eileen said, but he and Binnie were already on their knees scrabbling to retrieve something off the floor. Alf jammed it in his pocket.
“Nuthin’,” he said, standing up and holding out his empty hands.
“We was just sittin’ there,” Binnie said innocently.
“Horrid children,” the headmistress said furiously and wheeled on Eileen. “You are obviously unfit to have children in your care.” She snatched her handbag out of Eileen’s hands. “I intend to report you to the Evacuation Committee. And the conductor.” She snatched up her suitcase and her parcels and turned on Alf and Binnie. “I predict you two will come to a bad end.” She swept out of the compartment.
“I only wanted to show her it wasn’t ’maginary,” Alf said, pulling a green garter snake out of his pocket.
“And it served ’er right,” Binnie added darkly.
Yes, it did, Eileen thought, but she said, “You had no business bringing a snake on the train.”
“I couldn’t leave ’im all alone at the manor,” Alf said. “’E might’ve got shot. ’Is name’s Bill,” he added fondly.
“Will we be thrown off the train?” Theodore asked fearfully, and as if in answer, the train began to slow. Alf and Binnie dived for the window.
“It’s awright,” Binnie said, “we’re comin’ into a station.” But at the end of ten minutes, the train hadn’t started up again, and when Eileen went out in the corridor (after warning the children not to move while she was gone) she saw the headmistress out on the platform shaking her finger at the stationmaster, who was looking anxiously at his pocket watch.
Eileen retreated hastily back inside the compartment. “Alf, you must get rid of that snake this minute.”
“Get rid of Bill?” Alf said, appalled.
“Yes.”
“’Ow?”
“I don’t care,” she began to say, then had a horrible image of it slithering down the corridor. “Put it out the window.”
“Out the window? ’E’ll be run over!” and Theodore began to cry.
One more day, Eileen thought, and I will never have to see these children again.
The train was beginning to move. The stationmaster must have persuaded the headmistress to allow them to stay on board. Or perhaps she’d stormed off to take a later train. “You can’t throw Bill out now we’re movin’,” Binnie said. “It’d kill ’im for sure.”
“It ain’t Bill’s fault ’e’s ’ere,” Alf argued. “You wouldn’t like it if you was somewhere you wasn’t s’posed to be and somebody tried to kill you.”
Which is exactly the situation I’ll be in when I reach London, Eileen thought. “Very well,” she said, “but you must put him out the next time we stop. And till then, he stays in your haversack. If you take him out, it’s out the window.”
Alf nodded, climbed on the seat, stowed the snake away, and jumped down. “Can I ’ave some chocolate?”
“No,” Eileen said, looking anxiously at the door, but when the guard appeared, it was only to punch their tickets, and there were no other intrusions, not even when the train stopped at Reading and passengers swarmed aboard.
Word must have spread, she thought, wondering how long it would take the Hodbins to become notorious throughout London. A week.
But in the meantime, Theodore could sit beside her instead of on her lap, and she didn’t have to listen to the headmistress’s lectures, so when the candy butcher came through, she relented and bought them a chocolate bar.
She should have known better. They immediately demanded Cornish pasties, followed by peppermint rock and sausage rolls. I’ll be bankrupt before we reach London, she thought, and let’s hope Alf doesn’t really get sick on trains, but he was busy marking Xes on his map and pointing out nonexistent planes to Theodore.
“Look, there’s a Messerschmitt! ME’s have got five-hundred-pound bombs on ’em. They can blow up a whole train. If they dropped one on you, they wouldn’t be able to find your body or nuthin’. Ka-bloom! You’d disappear, just like that.”
The two of them pressed their noses to the window to search for more planes. Binnie was engrossed in a film magazine one of the young women must have left behind. Eileen picked up the stout man’s newspaper to see if there was an ad for John Lewis or Selfridges which would give their addresses.
Both stores were open till six. Good. With luck, she’d be able to deliver the children and make it to both before they closed. But what if Polly didn’t work at either department store? Eileen scanned the ads, looking for the other name Polly’d mentioned. Dickins and Jones? No. Parker and Co.? No, but she was more convinced than ever the name had begun with a P. Was it P. D. White’s?
No, here it was. Padgett’s. I knew I’d remember it when I saw it. Padgett’s was open till six, too, and from the addresses, it looked as if they were only a few blocks apart. With luck, she could check all three before closing. She hoped there wasn’t a raid tonight. Or if 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.