“It’s as if it’s full of fireflies,” she called over her shoulder, and her voice echoed back. The tunnel was as dark and cold as she had remembered, but this time it was fun. She could hear the plip-plop of water dripping down from the roof.
She held the lantern up and saw her own shadow like a giant against the wall.
“I feel like a coal miner going down a pit,” said Gus, his voice echoing too.
“A coal miner or one of the dwarfs from Snow White,” agreed Edie. She had seen the Walt Disney film at least three times at the pictures with Fliss. “We could be mining for treasure.”
“Dopey’s my favourite,” said Greta, but her voice was so quiet and scared there was hardly any echo at all.
“Here.” Edie passed the lantern to Gus. It was getting darker with every step they took and the pale light from the mouth of the tunnel was barely reaching them any more. “Shall we sing to Mr Churchill?” she asked, taking Greta’s hand. Without waiting for an answer she burst into a rousing chorus of “Heigh-ho, Heigh-ho, It’s Off To Work We Go”.
All three children sang at the top of their voices, belting out the words and whistling or humming the bits they couldn’t quite remember. It sounded as if there was a whole choir of them as the cheerful song echoed round and round in the tunnel.
“I reckon we’re about halfway through by now,” said Gus when they’d sung the tune at least three times and had a good blast of “It’s A Long Way To Tipperary” too.
“Shh!” said Gus, although nobody had spoken. “What was that?” He held up the lantern.
Edie stopped and looked both ways. They must have turned a corner. There was no sign of light from either end of the tunnel.
She had heard the noise too – a tiny crunching sound as if something was moving on the stones which lined the tracks.
“It’s nothing,” she said, wishing Gus hadn’t mentioned it. He would only frighten Greta. She was squeezing Edie’s hand with an iron grip as it was.
“You’re right. Probably just a rat,” said Gus and Edie groaned.
“A rat?” Greta squealed and dug her nails into Edie’s palm.
“Of course it’s not a rat!” said Edie firmly, although her own heart was thundering now. “There would be nothing for the poor thing to eat. If it’s anything it will be a mother fox with her cubs. She’ll have made a lovely den down here and she’ll go out every night to hunt.”
“I like foxes,” said Greta a little more bravely.
“Me too!” said Edie.
“Shh!” warned Gus again. He held up the lantern and put his finger to his lips. Lamplight arched across the curved bricks as he searched the tunnel. Just ahead, Edie could see the shadowy shape of a manhole. The inky-blackness of the recess was even darker than the rest of the walls.
Gus lowered the lantern a little. Light spilled down on to the rails.
“Ahh!” Edie screamed. She couldn’t help herself. A leg – a human leg – was lying across the tracks.
Greta was screaming too. She was trying to pull Edie away. But Edie held her firm.
“It’s all right,” she whispered. “Shh! It’s all right.” At first, she had thought it was just a leg – all on its own – left there on the rails – as if it had been sliced off by a speeding express. But now Edie saw that the leg was moving. It was attached to a body. And whoever the body belonged to was alive. She could hear short rasping breaths, panting, as if the person was gasping for air.
Gus stretched out his arm and held the lantern forward so that light fell on the edge of the arched manhole in the wall.
“Hello,” said Edie, boldly. There was no point in whispering any more. Whoever was lying there must have heard them long ago. Her heart was fluttering so hard she felt as if there was a pigeon in her chest. “Are you hurt?” She took a tiny step forward. Greta was still clinging to her hand.
Inside the manhole, there was the sound of shifting stones like shingle in the waves at a beach.
“Bitte!” said a thin, frail voice. “Bitte tut mir nichts an!”
“German!” hissed Gus.
Edie froze. Even before the lamplight hit the pale face hiding in the darkness she knew who it would be.
“The airman,” she whispered. “Our airman.” He hadn’t been captured after all.
“Bitte!” he said again.
Edie could see him clearly now as Gus held up the lamp. The young man was crouched and shivering, his dark eyes wide with fear.
“Come on,” said Gus, grabbing Edie’s arm. “We should get out of here.” He tried to pull her away.
“Wait.”
The airman held out his hand as if he was begging for something. “Wasser!”
“I am so sorry,” said Edie slowly. “We do not speak German. We do not understand you.”
But Greta’s fingers slipped from hers and the little girl darted forward along the tracks.
“Come back!” cried Edie.
“Greta!” roared Gus.
Greta took no notice. She crouched down in front of the airman. “Hallo! Wollen Sie Wasser?” she burbled.
“What?” Edie was stunned. Greta was speaking German.
“Shut up,” barked Gus. “Just shut up, Greta.” He leapt forward as if to grab her, but Edie snatched at his sleeve.
“What’s happening?” she asked. “I don’t understand. Why is Greta speaking German? How is she speaking German?” She sounded fluent to Edie.
“Oh, that’s easy.” Greta looked up, her face shining in the lamplight. “Our daddy is German, isn’t he, Gus?”
“Shut up!” roared Gus. His furious voice echoed through the tunnel. “Halt die Klappe, Greta! I told you. Just shut up!”
“German?” Edie’s head was spinning. “I don’t understand.”
Chapter Eighteen
The Fox
Edie took the lamp from Gus’s trembling fingers.
She held it up so she could see his face in the dark.
“How can your father be German?” she asked.
“You said he was in the RAF. You said he
