He started up. 'I'm English,' he burst out. 'Have you got a car?'
The corporal stared at him, amazed. 'And who the muckin' hell might you be?'
'I'm English. These children are English, two of them. We're trying to get through to Chartres.'
'Chartres?' The corporal was puzzled.
'Chartres, 'e means,' the driver said. 'I see that oh the map.'
Howard said: 'You've got a car?'
'Workshop lorry,' said the corporal. He swung round on the driver. 'Get the muckin' water and start filling up, Bert.' The driver went off up-stream swinging his can.
The old man said: 'Can you give us a lift?'
'What, you and all them kids? I dunno about that, mate. How far do you want to go?'
'I'm trying to get back to England.'
'You ain't the only one.'
'I only want a lift to Chartres. They say that trains are running from there to St Malo.'
'You don't want to believe all these Froggies say. Tried to tell us it was all right goin' through a place called Susan yesterday, and when we got there it was full of muckin' Jerries! All loosing off their hipes at Ben and me like we was Aunt Sally! Ever drive a ten-ton Leyland, mate?'
The old man shook his head.
'Well, she don't handle like an Austin Seven. Bert stuck 'is foot down and I got the old Bren going over the windshield and we went round the roundabout like it was the banking at Brooklands, and out the way we come, and all we got was two bullets in the motor generator what makes the juice for lighting and that, and a little chip out of the aft leg of the Herbert, what won't make any odds if the officer don't notice it. But fancy saying we could go through there! Susan the name was, or something of that.'
The old man blinked at him. 'Where are you making for?'
The corporal said: 'Place called Brest. Not the kind of name I'd like to call a town, myself, but that's the way these Froggies are. Officer said to go there if we got cut off, and we'd get the lorry shipped back home from there.'
Howard said: 'Take us with you.'
The other looked uncertainly at the children. 'I dunno what to say. I dunno if there'd be room. Them kids ain't English.'
'Two of them are. They're speaking French now, but that's because they've been brought up in France.'
The driver passed them with his dripping can, going towards the road.
'What are the other two?'
They're French.'
'I ain't taking no Froggie kids along,' the corporal said. 'I ain't got no room, for one thing, and they're just as well left in their own place, to my way of thinking. I don't mind obliging you and the two English ones.'
Howard said: 'You don't understand. The two French ones are in my care.' He explained the situation to the man.
'It's no good, mate,' he said. 'I ain't got room for all of you.'
Howard said slowly: 'I see...'He stared for a moment absently at the traffic on the road. 'If it's a matter of room,' he said, 'will you take the four children through to Brest with you? They won't take up much room. I'll give you a letter for the RTO at Brest, and a letter to my solicitor in England. And I can give you money for anything they'll want.'
The other wrinkled his brows. 'Leaving you here?'
'I'll be all right. In fact, I'll get along quicker without them.'
'You mean take them two Froggie kids along 'stead of you? Is that what you're getting at?
'I'll be all right. I know France very well.'
'Don't talk so bloody soft. What 'Id I do with four muckin' kids and only Bert along o' me?' He swung round on his heel. 'Come on, then. Get them kids dressed toot and sweet - I ain't going to wait all night. And if I finds them messing with the Herbert I'll tan their little bottoms for them, straight I will.'
He swung off back towards his lorry. Howard hurried down to the sand pit and called the children to him. 'Come on and get your clothes on, quickly,' he said. 'We're going in a motor-lorry.'
Ronnie faced him, stark naked. 'Really? What sort is it? May I sit by the driver, Mr Howard?'
Sheila, similarly nude, echoed: 'May I sit by the driver too?'
'Come on and get your clothes on,' he repeated. He turned to Rose and said in French: 'Put your stockings on, Rose, and help Pierre. We've got to be very quick.'
He hurried the children all he could, but they were wet and the clothes stuck to them; he had no towel. Before he was finished the two Air Force men were back with him, worrying with their urgency to start. At last he had the children ready. 'Will you be able to take my perambulator?' he asked, a little timidly.
The corporal said: 'We can't take that muckin' thing, mate. It's not worth a dollar.'
The old man said: 'I know it's not. But if we have to walk again, it's all I've got to put the little ones in.'
The driver chipped in: 'Let 'im take it on the roof. It'll ride there all right, corp. We'll all be walking if we don't get hold of juice.'
'My muckin' Christ,' the corporal said. 'Call this a workshop lorry! Perishing Christmas tree, I call it. All right, stick it on the roof.'
He hustled them towards the road. The lorry stood gigantic by the roadside, the traffic eddying round it. Inside it was stuffed full of machinery. An enormous Herbert lathe stood in the middle. A grinding-wheel and valve- facing machine stood at one end, a little filing and sawing machine at the other. Beneath the lathe a motor- generator set was housed; above it was a long electric switchboard. The men's kitbags occupied what little room there was.
Howard hastily removed their lunch from the pram, and watched it heaved up on the roof of the van. Then he helped the children up among the machinery. The corporal refused point-blank to let them ride beside the driver. 'I got the Bren there, see?' he said. 'I don't want no perishing kids around if we runs into Jerries.'
Howard said: 'I see that.' He consoled Ronnie and climbed in himself into the lorry. The corporal saw them settled, then went round and got up by the driver; with a low purr and a lurch the lorry moved out into the traffic stream.
It was half an hour later that the old man realised that they had left Sheila's pants beside the stream in their hurry.
They settled down to the journey. The interior of the van was awkward and uncomfortable for Howard, with no place to sit down and rest; he had to stoop, half kneeling, on a kitbag. The children being smaller, were more comfortable. The old man got out their dejeuner and gave them food in moderation, with a little of the orange drink; on his advice Rose ate very little, and remained well. He had rescued Pierre's chocolate from the perambulator and gave it to him, as a matter of course, when they had finished eating. The little boy received it solemnly and put it into his mouth; the old man watched him with grave amusement.
Rose said: 'It is good, that, Pierre.' She bent down and smiled at him.
He nodded gravely. 'Very good,' he whispered.
Very soon they came to Montargis. Through a little trap-door in the partition between the workshop and the driver's seat the corporal said to Howard: 'Ever been here before, mate?'
The old man said: 'I've only passed it in the train, a great many years ago.'
'You don't know where the muckin' petrol dump would be? We got to get some juice from somewhere.'
Howard shook his head. 'I'm afraid I don't. I'll ask someone for you, if you like.'
'Christ. Do you speak French that good?'
The driver said: 'They all speak it, corp. Even the bloody kids.'
The corporal turned back to Howard. 'Just keep them kids down close along the floor, mate, case we find the Jerries like in that place Susan.'
The old man was startled. 'I don't think there are any Germans so far west as this,' he said. But he made the children lie down on the floor, which they took as a fine joke. So, with the little squeals of laughter from
