“I had the binoculars in the last war,” said Uncle Peter. “In France.”
“I promise I’ll look after them,” said Edie, as he handed her the case.
Uncle Peter shrugged. “I don’t care if you drop them in the sodding mud.”
Then he sat down on the bottom step of the stairs and put his head between his hands.
Edie was shocked. “Uncle Peter… ” She stretched out her hand towards him but he shook his head.
“I’m sorry. Go for your walk,” he said. “I’m not going to be very good company today.”
Edie paused for a moment, hating to leave him like this. But he waved her away again.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. Off you go.” He looked up and smiled as best he could.
“What are we looking for?” said Greta for the hundredth time.
“I don’t know,” Edie answered. They were walking up and down the edge of the railway track, searching for any sort of clues. Edie had the binoculars slung around her neck like the gas mask she always used to wear. None of the children bothered with them any more. Not out here in the countryside.
“We heard him, as clear as day,” she said, turning to Gus. “Len Snigson told Donny there was something, somewhere between this telegraph pole and the mouth of the tunnel.”
“Black-market goods, I expect,” said Gus. “Probably something from the farm. Food, I suppose.”
“Sausages?” said Greta, licking her lips.
“Maybe.” Edie ruffled her hair. “Let’s just keep searching. You never know your luck.”
Before long, Greta gave up completely and sat on the bank making a dandelion crown for Mr Churchill, who had come with her, of course.
Gus and Edie took it turns to keep an eye on her or walk further down the line. Five or six times they must have covered the distance between the telegraph pole and the start of the tunnel. They looked along the tracks, up on the bank, under bushes and up trees.
“Never mind a sausage, there’s not so much as a bacon rind,” said Edie, flopping down on the bank beside Greta. “I give up!”
“Whatever it was may well have been squashed by a train by now,” said Gus. He lay down on the grass too and stared up at the sky.
“Oh, dear,” said Edie. “Imagine if it was a crate of eggs.”
“Look,” said Gus after a moment. “There’s a plane up there.”
“So there is,” said Edie, shielding her eyes from the sun. A shape, too big for a bird, was coming this way. She’d got quite used to seeing all sorts of planes flying over in London, but realized this was the first one she’d seen out here in the country. She lifted the binoculars and looked through them. The plane was painted in green-and-brown camouflage with a big propeller on the front.
“Is it one of ours?” she said, feeling a sudden panic. She passed the binoculars to Gus.
“Of course,” he said. “It’s a Hurricane.” He hadn’t even looked through the binoculars yet. “I can tell by the sound of the engine.”
“Which ones are ours, Gussy?” said Greta, trying to grab the binoculars from him. “Which side are we on?”
“The British, of course,” said Gus furiously.
Edie leapt to her feet. “Hello,” she called, running along the top of the bank and waving as the plane flew over them. “Good luck! Bon voyage!”
It was far too high and far away for the pilot to hear them, of course. But she imagined for a wonderful moment that it might be Fliss. Maybe she was delivering the Hurricane to an airfield nearby.
They ran after the plane, heading in the direction of the village. As they came up on to the bridge by the lane, they saw Perky. He was standing up on the pedals of his bicycle, shielding his eyes from the sun and staring into the sky too.
“Did you see it?” he said. The plane was no more than a speck in the sky now. “She was a right beauty!”
“I wouldn’t mind flying one of those,” said Gus. And the boys took it in turns to scan the sky with the binoculars.
Edie smiled; it was good to see them becoming friends. But Greta was pulling on her sleeve.
“I need a wee,” she said, jiggling from foot to foot. “And so does Mr Churchill.” She waved the knitted elephant in the air.
“All right,” said Edie. “I’ll take you to the station. You can go to the ladies cloakroom there.”
“Hang on a second,” cried Perky. “I’ve got summat for you, Edie. I was on my way up to Three Chimneys with it when I saw the plane.”
“Is it more boys’ clothes?” asked Greta.
“No,” said Perky. “It’s a telegram.”
“A telegram?” Edie froze as he held the thin brown envelope towards her. Telegrams meant someone was dead or wounded or missing in action, didn’t they? Why would anyone be sending her a telegram?
“Don’t look so worried,” said Perky. “Telegrams aren’t always bad news, you know.”
“Not always?” That didn’t sound very reassuring. Edie’s fingers were shaking as she took the envelope. She couldn’t bear to open it. It was silly, but some part of her felt that if she never read the telegram, then any bad news might stay sealed in there and never escape. It was like the Greek myth Aunt Roberta had made her read in the one and only lesson they’d had last week – the one where Pandora had all the sorrows of the world sealed away in a box, just so long as no one peeped inside.
“Do you want me to read the telegram for you?” Gus stretched out his hand.
“No, I don’t!” She almost slapped him away.
“I need a wee,” whined Greta. “And so does Mr Churchi—”
“Shh!” hissed the boys.
Edie ripped the envelope in one clean movement, unfolded the paper and read it.
Her hands started trembling more than ever.
“What’s it say?” asked Perky.
“It says,” breathed Edie. “Station. 11.53.”
“Station? That must mean this station,” said Gus.
“Yes.” Edie blinked, trying to
