Then it was gone. The red lamps on the back of the guard’s van rumbled away down the long tunnel. The air around them stilled. It was cold and damp and dark again.
“Crikey!” said Gus. His voice was thick and shaky.
“Crikey indeed,” whispered Edie. She could barely get her voice to work at all.
Without another word between them, they stumbled back towards the light at the mouth of the tunnel where they’d come from.
As they reached the entrance, Gus paused.
“What if the farmer’s still there?” he asked.
“I don’t care,” said Edie. All she wanted to do was see the daylight, feel the sun on her skin and breathe in fresh air.
“Ey up! What’s happened to you?”
Edie and Gus had followed the railway along the other side and come up on the lane behind the station.
They were sitting on the sunny bank, catching their breath, when Perky rode past on his bike.
“You look like a pair of chimney sweeps,” he laughed, turning his bike in tight circles in front of them.
Edie looked at Gus properly for the first time since they had come out of the tunnel. His face was black with soot. She ran her fingers down her own cheek and saw that they were smutty too.
“Oh, dear,” she groaned.
“That’s good, that is,” laughed Perky. “The two sweeps from Three Chimneys. Where’s the little’un? Did you leave her up on the rooftop with a brush?”
“Oh, shut up, will you,” growled Gus, rubbing at his face with his sweater. But that only seemed to spread the soot around and make things worse.
“Greta’s safe at home,” said Edie. “But, oh, Perky. It was terrible. We were running away from Boar’s Head Farm and we hid in the long deep tunnel and a train came.”
“Boar’s Head?” Perky stopped circling his bike at last. “The Snigson place? What the dickens were you doing up there?”
“We were just – erm… ” Edie had the distinct feeling she shouldn’t admit to Perky exactly what they had been up to. Something about their whole country adventure was beginning to feel a little silly.
But it was too late. Gus folded his arms and jutted out his chin. “We were scrumping,” he said defiantly. “That’s what!”
“Scrumpin’? Oh, dear. That’s good, that is! Scrumpin’! It’s only springtime!” Perky was howling with laughter. “You won’t get apples on trees at this time of year, you daft beggars. Not till the tail end of summer.” Edie thought she saw actual tears rolling down his cheeks. “Don’t you city kids know nothing?”
“No!” Edie started to laugh too. “It seems we don’t!” She could see the funny side. They really had been idiots. Even she knew, now she thought about it, that the trees had to blossom first, long before they could bear fruit.
“There aren’t even any apple trees at Boar’s Head,” chuckled Perky. “Blackthorns, more likely.” His face creased up with laughter all over again.
“All right, you’ve had your joke,” said Gus furiously. He leapt to his feet and began pacing up and down. “It’s not that funny.”
“No,” said Perky. “It isn’t.” And in an instant his cheeky smile was gone. “You need to watch yourselves. Len and Donny Snigson are as bad as folk get. You don’t want to go poking around their farm looking for trouble.”
“A woman saw us too,” said Edie.
“Ma Snigson.” Perky nodded. “She’s their mother. Runs the farm with Donny since her husband died. Don’t let that pudgy apple-dumpling look of hers fool you. She’d slice you up with the wood axe quicker than a leg of ham.”
Edie shuddered. “She set her dog on us. Then Donny fired a gun.” Her hands were still shaking. She’d thought life in the country would be quiet and peaceful after all the bombing raids of the Blitz. Now, she wasn’t so sure.
“You’ve had a lucky escape,” said Perky. “Those Snigsons don’t like anyone to go poking their noses round. Folk say they’ve got all sorts up there: pigs the ministry don’t know nothing about, black-market food, fighting cockerels – you name it. But nobody can ever prove a thing.”
“I’d like to try,” mumbled Gus. But Perky shook his head.
“They’re slippery brutes, those Snigsons,” he said. “There’s Donny up to goodness knows what out there on the farm. And Len – he’s the older brother – down here at the station. I think he’s probably shifting all sorts of stuff in an’ out when he shouldn’t be. It’s the perfect cover for a porter.”
“How terrible,” gasped Edie. Could it really be true that the Snigson’s were busy trying to cheat the country out of precious food and money just to make a profit for themselves while there was a war on? She found it hard to believe. Especially while brave men like Perky’s father – the real station porter – were away fighting.
“It’s so unpatriotic,” added Gus.
Perky shrugged. “At least Colonel Crowther’s got his eye on ’em.” He pointed down the lane to where they could just make out the side of a pretty white house with a thatched roof. “He lives there at England’s Corner. He’s chief of the local Home Guard – it’s not a real army or anything, just old farmers and a couple of young lads who haven’t been called-up yet. But they’ve still got a few real weapons and whatnot in case Hitler invades and decides to set out over the dales.”
Edie giggled at the thought of the German army marching past the village post office. She was sure Hitler had more important targets in mind. But Perky seemed
