“Thank you,” said Edie. “That’s very kind.”
With their faces clean and their pride restored a little, she backed out of the garden at England’s Corner. The Colonel seemed so upright and grand, she felt almost as if she had met King George himself.
Chapter Seven
Headquarters
When Edie and Gus got back to Three Chimneys, they found that Aunt Roberta had just returned from Maidbridge too.
“Good news,” she said. “I spoke to the Evacuation Board and Gus and Greta can stay here for the duration of the war if they need to. They are now our official Three Chimneys evacuees.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful.” Without thinking, Edie threw her arms round Aunt Roberta. She was so excited, and it was such a magnificent thing she had done, that she almost forgot to be scared of her. If Aunt Roberta could welcome the evacuees so generously, perhaps she could come to truly love Edie too, and the whole row with Fliss would be forgotten.
Aunt Roberta returned Edie’s hug just as warmly, and Edie felt a glow inside.
“Thank you! Now we can be the Railway Children after all,” she cried. She slapped Gus heartily on the back and blew a kiss to Greta. Already, she couldn’t imagine living here without them.
“Hooray!” cheered Greta dancing round and round the kitchen table. “Three Chimbleys is going to be our home.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” said Gus, a little formally.
“Oh, goodness, if you’re going to stay, I think you ought to call me Aunt Roberta, don’t you?” she said.
“Thank you, Aunt Roberta.” Gus grinned and Edie felt like throwing her arms around her all over again.
“The board were finding it hard to place evacuees as it was,” Aunt Roberta explained. “Most city children came in the first few months of the war – and half of them have gone back to London already, thinking the bombing down there wasn’t going to be nearly as bad as it is. The whole thing seems to be a bit of a muddle.” Aunt Roberta shrugged. “But that still leaves the question of school.”
“School?” Edie had almost forgotten about that.
“Gus is too old to go to the one in the village,” said Aunt Roberta. “And you will be too by the end of term, Edie. So I suggested Uncle Peter and I could teach you here until the summer holidays. Then we’ll think about you both starting at the grammars in Maidbridge in September. We’ll sort something out for Greta then too – if this rotten war is still going on, that is.”
“So you mean, no school this term at all?” said Edie. “The summer holidays start now?”
“Well, as I say, you’ll still have some lessons with Uncle Peter and with me when I’m not working at the hospital,” Aunt Roberta repeated. “But… ”
All three children were dancing round the kitchen table now, whooping and cheering.
“I wouldn’t be so excited if I was you.” Aunt Roberta raised her voice above the noise. “I’ll have you all learning poems by heart, you know!” Then she rolled up her sleeves and went outside to milk the goat.
“Isn’t she manificent?” whispered Greta.
“Magnificent?” Edie laughed. But she had to agree, there was something rather magnificent about Aunt Roberta. She was strict and firm and proper. So different from Fliss. But she was also kind and generous. Every once in a while, Edie caught a glimpse of the girl she must have been all those years ago – the young Bobbie who’d had the wonderful idea of saving the train by ripping up her red flannel petticoats.
“Petticoats!” Edie cried aloud. “That reminds me.”
“What are you talking about?” Gus looked at her as if she was mad.
“You’ll see!” said Edie, and she ran out of the door after Aunt Roberta. “I was just wondering,” she called, “you don’t have any old trousers I could have, do you? Small ones, that is?”
“Trousers?” Aunt Roberta looked confused.
“Yes. Like the Land Girls wear, when they work on the farms,” said Edie. “It’s just that now I’m going to live in the countryside, I can’t run around wearing skirts all the time. It’s not practical.”
Aunt Roberta smiled. “I’ll ask around and see what I can do.”
Two days later, Aunt Roberta gave Edie her first lesson. It wasn’t on the poems of Wordsworth or the sonnets of Shakespeare. It was on how to milk a goat.
Edie found she was quite good at it. It was all about rhythm … and talking gently to the goat. It was certainly easier than when she’d tried to learn the cello. Aunt Roberta had left her to carry on alone, and she had already got an inch or two of milk in the bottom of the pail, when she saw Perky riding up the path on the big post office bicycle.
“I’ve summat for you,” he called, and Edie’s heart leapt.
“Is it a letter?” she cried, almost knocking over the precious milk. Fliss had promised to write as soon as she reached the airbase, but there’d been no word yet.
“Gosh. No. Sorry!” Perky looked crestfallen. “I didn’t mean to get your hopes up. It’s… Well, actually it’s a parcel from my aunty Patsy in the post office.”
“A parcel? For me? From your aunt Patsy?” Edie didn’t want to sound rude, but… “Why?”
“You’ll see!” Perky grinned as he handed over a loosely tied package done up with old newspaper and string. His eyes were sparkling with mischievous delight – a look Edie was beginning to recognize all too well.
“Thank you,” she said calmly. She laid the package on the grass and carried on milking the goat. “Good girl, Mr Hitler,” she whispered.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” said Perky, almost hopping from foot to foot in his excitement.
“Not just now,” said Edie vaguely. She had no idea what she was going to find inside, but one thing was sure, she wasn’t going to give Perky the satisfaction of opening it in front of him. Not when he was grinning from ear
