As quickly as she’d thought she wanted to lie still all morning, Edie was suddenly desperate to be up and exploring. She leapt out of bed, pulled on her clothes and thundered down the stairs, almost tripping on the uneven hobbly-bobbly old steps.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” laughed Uncle Peter, who was washing up at the kitchen sink.
“Morning.” Edie glanced at the clock. Nearly nine already. How could it be so late?
“Roberta’s gone to Maidbridge,” Uncle Peter explained. “To see what the Evacuation Board has to say – about the Smith children and whether they can stay.”
“Oh, I do hope they can,” said Edie.
“Me too. They’re nice kids,” said Uncle Peter. “Although there’s been a bit of a kerfuffle already this morning. Your aunt insisted on washing that grubby elephant.”
“Oh, dear!” Edie looked out of the kitchen window and saw Mr Churchill pegged to the washing line by his trunk.
“Young Greta wasn’t too happy about it, as you can imagine.” Uncle Peter dried his hands. “Now, what can I get you for breakfast? We’ve got plenty of eggs from our chickens.” Edie’s mouth fell open as he pointed to a bowl of speckled hen’s eggs beside the range. Since wartime food rationing had begun, a box of exotic Turkish delight wouldn’t have seemed half so rare and precious as those eggs in London. “And there’s some bread and goat’s milk, of course. And a good dollop of last year’s blackberry jam. ”
It was a feast. But Edie glanced at the clock again, desperate to be outside. There was somewhere she wanted to go.
“Itchy feet?” Uncle Peter smiled. “Why don’t you just take a slice of bread and run?”
“Can I?” Edie beamed. But before Uncle Peter could answer, the garden door was flung open and Greta hurtled through it.
“Mr Hitler’s eating Mr Churchill and she won’t let go,” she cried.
“Pardon?” It took Edie a moment to realize what was going on. But as she glanced out the window, she saw the nanny goat standing on her hind legs, chewing the elephant on the washing line. At that moment the pegs gave way and Mr Hitler charged off with Mr Churchill swinging from her mouth.
“Oh, dear!” cried Edie.
“Sounds like a job for the War Office,” said Uncle Peter, calmly taking Greta by the hand. “Come on. We better go and sort this out. Grab what you want and off you go,” he called over his shoulder to Edie. “We’ll see you later.”
“Thank you.” Edie picked up a slice of bread and ran out of the door. She was halfway across the meadow when she saw Gus sitting under a tree looking gloomy. For a moment she thought she might ignore him and pelt past without a word. Part of her wanted to go where she was off to alone. A secret mission! But he looked so lonely and sad that she changed her mind.
“Come on!” she called. “Follow me!”
“Where to?” he asked, not moving.
“Don’t ask questions, soldier. It’s an order!” she barked, in a bossy sergeant major voice. “You never know,” she added. “It might be fun.”
Then she ran on. She couldn’t wait any longer. It was up to him if he followed or not.
She heard his feet thumping behind her on the meadow grass and, a moment later, he caught up. They ran side by side in silence until Edie stumbled and he caught her by the elbow.
“So, where are we going?” he asked.
“You’ll see,” said Edie, and she skidded to a stop beside a long wooden fence which ran along the side of the railway line. “What’s the time?” She grabbed Gus’s arm without waiting for an answer and pulled up his sleeve to look at his wristwatch. It was very fancy, she noticed. A proper man’s watch, made of gold with a dark leather strap.
“It was my grandfather’s,” Gus mumbled.
“It’s beautiful,” said Edie. The word Kienzle was written across it. That sounded German. Or maybe Swiss. The Swiss were famous for making watches, Edie remembered.
“Ten past nine! Perfect!” she said. “If the timetable is still the same.”
“What timetable?” said Gus as she let go of his wrist and he scrambled up on to the fence beside her.
“The train timetable, of course,” said Edie. “We’re waiting for the 9.15 to London.”
“Why? You’re not running away, are you?” he asked. Then, without waiting for an answer: “If you want to catch a train, you’ll need to go to the station.”
“I know that, silly,” she sighed. “And we’re not waiting to catch a train – we’re waiting to wave to it.”
She explained how Fliss, Aunt Roberta and Uncle Peter had always waved to the 9.15 to send love to their father.
“I’m going to do the same. I’m going to send my love to Fliss,” she said.
“But she’s not in London. She’s in the ATA. She could be anywhere… ”
“Up in the sky – flying. I know,” said Edie, beginning to regret that she had brought him with her after all. “Oh … just wait and see… ”
There was a rumbling sound which made them look along the track to their right. The dark mouth of the tunnel she had seen from the house opened itself in the face of a rocky cliff. A train burst out of it with a shriek.
“It’s the 9.15! The Green Dragon,” cried Edie, leaping up and down. She was so excited, she almost forgot to wave. Just in time, she looked up her sleeve and pulled out the clean handkerchief Aunt Roberta had left neatly folded on top of her clothes. Edie wished it had a squirt of her mother’s Chanel perfume on it.
“Send my love, Green Dragon!” she roared. “Send my love to Fliss – wherever she is!”
Then Gus was waving his hankie too. “Send my love to Papa,” he croaked.
“And from Greta,” said Edie,
