gas masks!”
Outside the gates of the playground, a line of buses was waiting. Marianne saw that someone had written GOOD-BYE HITLER in chalk, on the side of one.
Now that Bridget was on her way to Canada, Marianne didn’t have anyone to sit with. The only empty seat was beside Hilary, whose regular partner had been sent to relatives in the country. Hilary edged as far away from Marianne as she could.
When they got to Paddington Station, the foreground was packed with single and double-decker buses. Inside, there were thousands of schoolchildren from all over London, mothers with toddlers, also going to the country, and volunteers, who handed out slabs of chocolate, cups of tea, and kind words for everyone.
The hardest part for Marianne was seeing all the mothers, and even some fathers, shouting advice, tying hair ribbons, and giving last-minute hugs.
Miss Barry had counted their class twice, making sure no one was missing, and at last it was time to board. They were allocated compartments in alphabetical order, so even if Bridget had been here, she and Marianne might not have sat together.
Once the girls were settled, Miss Barry came round and gave them each a packet of barley sugar. “The best cure for travel sickness I know,” she said, and left them to say their good-byes. Marianne sat in her seat trying not to mind, or look as if she minded, that she had no one to wave to. She must be the only girl on the train without a relative on the platform. She was glad when the guard blew the whistle at last and the engine began to move.
Miss Barry came in again. “Now I’m just three compartments away, and I’ll be in every half hour to check if you’re alright,” she said.
Celia was crying quietly in her corner seat. “I wish I hadn’t come,” she sobbed.
Miss Barry said briskly, “We’ve scarcely left the station, and remember, ambassadors don’t cry.”
“When will we get to wherever we’re going, Miss Barry?” Jane asked.
“I have no idea, Jane, but I suspect we have a long journey ahead, so make yourself comfortable and enjoy the scenery.”
The train was smartly painted in blue with gold lettering and inside, it was comfortable. The seats were padded; there were even armrests.
Miss Barry had told them that today all the railways were reserved for the great evacuation, and no one else could travel. It made it seem like a real adventure.
The girls sang: “Ten green bottles hanging on the wall/ There were ten in the bed and the little one said, ‘Roll over.’ ” They sang the First World War song “It’s a Long Way to Tipperary,” and “Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do!” They waved to people standing at railway crossings, and to children sitting on stiles. They played “I Spy,” and saw towns change to villages and farms. All the stations they passed through had the names covered up, so that any enemy spies wouldn’t know where the children were being taken. Then they divided themselves up into teams and kept count of animals. Marianne’s team won by one sheep.
The train stopped often. The girls grew restless. Miss Barry let them go in two’s to the guards’ van, where there was a supply of drinking water in a big churn.
Lucy came back and said, “We’re in Wales.”
“How do you know?” Jane asked.
“Because the guard said, ‘We’re coming into Aberdare,’ and then he said, ‘Not a word, mind.’ I happen to know Aberdare is in Wales because we had a holiday there once.”
Celia said, “Wales is a foreign country. The Welsh don’t even speak English, or not much.” And she started crying again.
Marianne wondered if Welsh was harder to learn than English.
Jane said, “What fun if they can’t understand what we’re saying.”
Marianne could have told them it wasn’t any fun at all, but decided it wasn’t the right moment.
The landscape, which had been a mixture of green hills and little stone cottages, began to change. Now the train plunged into a
Outside the gates of the playground, a line of buses was waiting. Marianne saw that someone had written GOOD-BYE HITLER in chalk, on the side of one.
Now that Bridget was on her way to Canada, Marianne didn’t have anyone to sit with. The only empty seat was beside Hilary, whose regular partner had been sent to relatives in the country. Hilary edged as far away from Marianne as she could.
When they got to Paddington Station, the foreground was packed with single and double-decker buses. Inside, there were thousands of schoolchildren from all over London, mothers with toddlers, also going to the country, and volunteers, who handed out slabs of chocolate, cups of tea, and kind words for everyone.
The hardest part for Marianne was seeing all the mothers, and even some fathers, shouting advice, tying hair ribbons, and giving last-minute hugs.
Miss Barry had counted their class twice, making sure no one was missing, and at last it was time to board. They were allocated compartments in alphabetical order, so even if Bridget had been here, she and Marianne might not have sat together.
Once the girls were settled, Miss Barry came round and gave them each a packet of barley sugar. “The best cure for travel sickness I know,” she said, and left them to say their good-byes. Marianne sat in her seat trying not to mind, or look as if she minded, that she had no one to wave to. She must be the only girl on the train without a relative on the platform. She was glad when the guard blew the whistle at last and the engine began to move.
Miss Barry came in again. “Now I’m just three compartments away, and I’ll be in every half hour to check if you’re alright,” she said.
Celia was crying quietly in her corner seat. “I wish I hadn’t come,” she sobbed.
Miss Barry said briskly, “We’ve scarcely left the station, and remember, ambassadors don’t cry.”
“When will we get to wherever we’re going, Miss Barry?” Jane asked.
“I have no idea, Jane, but I suspect we have a long journey ahead, so make yourself comfortable and enjoy the scenery.”
The train was smartly painted in blue with gold lettering and inside, it was comfortable. The seats were padded; there were even armrests.
Miss Barry had told them that today all the railways were reserved for the great evacuation, and no one else could travel. It made it seem like a real adventure.
The girls sang: “Ten green bottles hanging on the wall/ There were ten in the bed and the little one said, ‘Roll over.’ ” They sang the First World War song “It’s a Long Way to Tipperary,” and “Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do!” They waved to people standing at railway crossings, and to children sitting on stiles. They played “I Spy,” and saw towns change to villages and farms. All the stations they passed through had the names covered up, so that any enemy spies wouldn’t know where the children were being taken. Then they divided themselves up into teams and kept count of animals. Marianne’s team won by one sheep.
The train stopped often. The girls grew restless. Miss Barry let them go in two’s to the guards’ van, where there was a supply of drinking water in a big churn.
Lucy came back and said, “We’re in Wales.”
“How do you know?” Jane asked.
“Because the guard said, ‘We’re coming into Aberdare,’ and then he said, ‘Not a word, mind.’ I happen to know Aberdare is in Wales because we had a holiday there once.”
Celia said, “Wales is a foreign country. The Welsh don’t even speak English, or not much.” And she started crying again.
Marianne wondered if Welsh was harder to learn than English.
Jane said, “What fun if they can’t understand what we’re saying.”
Marianne could have told them it wasn’t any fun at all, but decided it wasn’t the right moment.
The landscape, which had been a mixture of green hills and little stone cottages, began to change. Now the train plunged into a
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