“Your mother’s a terrible daredevil, of course! One of the worst,” said Belinda, making Edie’s tummy clench. “She likes flying the small speedy planes, like Hurricanes and things.”
“We saw a Hurricane today,” cried Edie. Perhaps it wasn’t too silly to think it might have been Fliss after all. Although, if it was, she’d surely have done the daring beat-up Belinda had described and swooped low over the whole length of Three Chimneys meadow.
“I prefer flying a Halifax myself,” said Belinda. “You know, the big heavy bombers. It’s a bit like driving a winged tank… ” And she began to explain all the different sorts of planes the women got to fly. They were often up at the crack of dawn, delivering aircraft all over the British Isles, collecting them from factories or taking them to airfields whenever the fighter pilots and bomber squadrons needed them.
Before Edie knew it, the next train was chugging into the platform and it was time for Belinda to continue her journey north to see her family.
“Let me give you a hug,” she said, launching herself at Edie and throwing her arms around her neck. “I’ll pass it on to Fliss when I get back.”
Edie was half-smothered by Belinda’s enormous bosom, but she didn’t care. “Send her so much love, please,” she begged. She had been so disappointed at first, but now she wished the visit didn’t have to end. If Fliss couldn’t come herself, then Belinda Barton-Withers was the closest she could get. There were so many things Edie hadn’t asked. Things about Fliss and her life in the ATA.
“I almost forgot,” cried Belinda, leaning out of the window as the train began to move. “She asked me to give you this.” She held out a bar of Fry’s chocolate. Edie could see Fliss’s familiar bright-red lipstick kiss on the wrapper. It brought a lump to her throat.
She raced along beside the moving train and caught hold of the chocolate bar just in time.
“Thank you for stopping off!” she called, waving until she couldn’t see Belinda waving back any more. Then she swallowed hard, dried her wet eyes and walked back along the empty platform to collect Greta from the waiting room.
She slipped the chocolate bar into her pocket. She’d keep it as a surprise treat to share as they walked home. Greta deserved it. She had been so good, staying in the waiting room all this time, instead of coming out to run up and down the platform like Edie had thought she would. She felt rotten she’d been so impatient with her earlier.
“Greta,” she called, pushing open the waiting room door. “I’m sorry I was so long.”
But the waiting room was empty. Greta wasn’t there and Mr Churchill was lying all alone by the umbrella stand.
“Greta?” Edie’s heart began to race. She grabbed the elephant and ran out of the station to the street outside. She looked both ways up and down the hill. But the road was deserted. “Greta, where are you?” she cried.
Edie stood outside the station and shouted as loud as she could but there was no answer. How could a village be so quiet? There didn’t seem to be a soul out and about. Edie dashed across the road and peered over the stone wall beside the river.
Surely Greta wouldn’t have gone down there? She dangled over the wall and looked in both directions. There was no sign of anything except the burbling water and the mossy, slippery rocks. The river had always looked so pretty. Now it just seemed wide and cold and dangerous.
“Greta?” Edie ran back towards the station. She checked the washroom and lay down flat on her belly so that she could see underneath the chairs in the waiting room. Perhaps Greta was playing hide and seek? But if she was, she definitely wasn’t hiding anywhere inside.
Edie ran on to the platform. “Hello?” she cried. “Is anybody here?”
Where was Len Snigson? Surely he was supposed to be on duty? There was no sign of the porter or anybody else on the station at all.
Edie was about to charge out on to the road again when she stopped and tried to think clearly.
Take a deep breath, she told herself. She knew for certain that Greta was in the waiting room when the 11.53 arrived because she’d left her there and run out to the platform to meet the train…
“Oh, why didn’t I let her come with me?” Edie wailed out loud. She took another deep breath and tried to concentrate. Greta definitely hadn’t come on to the platform while Edie was talking to Belinda Barton-Withers on the bench. She would have spotted her if she had, she was sure of that. Unless…
“The trains!” gasped Edie. Could Greta have got on to one of those?
Surely I’d have noticed, she thought. But she knew it wasn’t true. She was so busy looking for Fliss the first time and saying goodbye to Belinda the second, that anything could have happened. Greta might have slipped on to either one of those trains unseen.
She could be halfway to Scotland by now! thought Edie desperately.
But even if that was true, one thing still didn’t make sense. If Greta had got on the train for fun – for an adventure – she would definitely have taken Mr Churchill with her. She would never leave him behind anywhere. Edie couldn’t bear to think what that meant.
She hugged the elephant tightly, breathing in a sweet mix of barley sugar, cod liver oil and Lifebuoy soap. It was exactly how Greta smelt when she climbed into Edie’s bed for a cuddle in the mornings.
Edie wanted to stay calm, but as hard as she tried, she couldn’t escape from the terrible thought which was hammering inside her head: if Greta’s beloved toy was still here, did that mean someone had snatched her and taken her against her will? If
