Edie was worried Fliss still hadn’t spoken to her, not even to make arrangements.
“Of course, sweetheart. It’s all tickety-boo.” Fliss smiled brightly. “I sent a telegram. Roberta’s going to meet you at the station when the train gets in. I’d deliver you myself, only I’m due at the base first thing in the morning and… ”
“It’s all right.” Edie tried to smile too, but she was suddenly overcome with a wave of nerves. It wasn’t the journey she was worried about. It was the thought of going all the way to Yorkshire to stay with a disapproving aunt who didn’t even want her there. She’d rather stay here in London and face the bombs. Most of all, she wanted to stay with Fliss.
“Please,” she said. “Can’t we just—”
But there was a great hiss of steam, a puff of smoke and a clank of pistons. The guard on the platform shouted something that sounded like, “All aboard!” Doors slammed, a whistle blew and the huge engine began to move.
“Goodbye!” cried Edie, her heart thumping.
“Bon voyage, sweetheart!” Fliss waved her handkerchief. Even with her nostrils full of smoke and soot, Edie caught a whiff of Chanel perfume. “Have fun!” Fliss ran along the platform as the engine gathered speed.
“And you be careful!” said Edie. “Please!” But her words were drowned out. Fliss was lost in the smoke as the train thundered away.
Edie wished she had asked Fliss for her handkerchief. It wasn’t that she was crying. “Of course not,” she told herself, wiping her cheeks with her sleeve. It was just that there was soot and smoke in her eyes.
Even so, she was glad to have the compartment to herself so that nobody could hear her sniff. She listened as hoards of rowdy troops thundered up and down the corridor outside. Some of them were singing, and their loud voices frightened Edie a little. She wished more than ever that Fliss was with her. But she took a deep breath and did as she’d suggested, spreading her coat out across the seats. “I’ve always wanted an adventure of my own, and now I’ve got one,” she whispered, trying to be firm with herself. Underneath all the worry, she felt excitement squirming in her tummy too.
She opened her book and tried to read, but she couldn’t take in a word, not with all the bustle and noise on the train and the bombed-out buildings of London slipping by outside the window.
The sliding door opened suddenly and a man with a band of red tartan around his regimental beret almost fell through it.
“Sorry, lassie. I’ll leave you in peace,” he said, crashing backwards against the door frame as the train rattled on.
“No, honestly, it’s fine,” Edie called after him guiltily, but he had already stumbled away, leaving the compartment door wide open.
She got to her feet and poked her head out into the corridor. She was shocked to see gaggles of men standing in the aisle or sitting on their kit bags.
“Oh, dear,” muttered Edie. They were off to fight for King and Country, or heading home for a well-earned leave. The least they deserved was a proper seat. She screwed up her courage, stuffed her coat on to the luggage rack and cleared her throat.
“Hello.” Nobody seemed to hear her. She coughed and tried again more loudly. “Excuse me. There are seats in here if anyone wants them.”
“Good!” said a clear sharp voice from further down the corridor. But it wasn’t one of the soldiers who had spoken. It was the Pied Piper. She appeared in the doorway to the next carriage, a long pheasant feather bobbing in the top of her green hat.
“If you’ve got space, little girl, we’ll take it,” she said, almost pushing Edie aside as she poked her beaky nose into the compartment to inspect it. “Perfect. We’re two seats short in our carriage.” She glanced at the list on her clipboard and then peered over her shoulder. “Where is that wretched child? I told him to follow me.” She sighed deeply. “I thought his sort were supposed to be organized… ”
Edie had no idea what that meant, but a moment later, the grumpy-looking blond boy from the station appeared, lugging his suitcase down the corridor. Greta skipped after him, swinging Mr Churchill by his long grey trunk. A soldier was carrying her suitcase for her. She gave him her best toothy grin as he heaved it into the luggage rack by the window.
“There you go, General,” he said, saluting her smartly and going on his way.
Greta giggled with delight. “I’m not a general. I’m a girl!” she called after him.
“Settle down, now!” snapped the Pied Piper, as Greta flopped backwards on to a seat and grinned at Edie.
The boy sat down too, sighing heavily and barely even glancing at Edie as he stared out of the window. Edie guessed he must be only a year or so older than she was, but he looked so stern and serious it was hard to tell.
“Righty-ho!” The Pied Piper scribbled something on her clipboard. “You’ve got your sandwiches and a flask of tea. I’m just in the other carriage if there’s any trouble.” She wagged her finger at the three children. “I don’t want to hear a peep out of any of you.” She appeared to have forgotten that she wasn’t in charge of Edie at all.
She stepped out of the compartment and closed the door behind her. Even the soldiers in the corridor seemed to settle down under her strict stare. But, the minute she marched away out of sight, Greta bounced off her seat and flopped on to the one next to Edie.
“Hello,” she said with an enormous grin. “I’m Greta. I met you before. And this is Mr Churchill, remember?” She held up
