might come running.
Then a small voice piped up behind her, through the doorway she’d been conspicuously blocking. “Who’s there, Sam?”
The girl’s face pinched in frustration. “Only some children,” she said. “I asked you to keep quiet, Esme.”
“Are they nice? I want to meet them!”
“They were just leaving.”
“There are lots of us and two of you,” Emma said matter-of-factly. “We’re staying here for a bit, and that’s that. You’re not going to scream, either, and we’re not going to steal anything.”
The girl’s eyes flashed with anger, then dulled. She knew she’d lost. “All right,” she said, “but try anything and I’ll scream
“Fair enough,” I said.
“Sam?” said the little voice. “What’s happening now?”
The girl—Sam—stepped reluctantly aside, revealing a bathroom that danced with the flickering light of candles. There was a sink and a toilet and a bathtub, and in the bathtub a little girl of perhaps five. She peeped curiously at us over the rim. “This is my sister, Esme,” Sam said.
“Hullo!” said Esme, waggling a rubber duck at us. “Bombs can’t get you when you’re in the bath, did you know that?”
“I didn’t,” Emma replied.
“It’s her safe place,” Sam whispered. “We spend every raid in here.”
“Wouldn’t you be safer in a shelter?” I said.
“Those are awful places,” Sam said.
The others had tired of waiting and began coming down the hall. Bronwyn leaned through the doorway and waved hello.
“Come in!” Esme said, delighted.
“You’re too trusting,” Sam scolded her. “One day you’re going to meet a bad person and then you’ll be sorry.”
“They aren’t bad,” said Esme.
“You can’t tell just by
