“Their parrot,” Eileen explained to Polly.
“So we told ’er we was all goin’ to live with Mum’s sister in the country.”
“And you went to live in the shelters,” Eileen said.
“But what did you live on if you hadn’t any money?” Polly asked, and then thought, Picking pockets and stealing picnic baskets.
Mr. Humphreys and the vicar were coming back, Mr. Humphreys still talking of Captain Faulknor.
Binnie looked stricken. “You ain’t gonna tell the vicar, are you?”
“Promise you won’t tell nobody,” Alf said, “or we’ll ’afta go to a orphanage.”
“Ah, here you are,” Mr. Humphreys said.
The vicar looked at them, taking in the latched gate, Eileen’s sentrylike stance, the children’s expressions. “What’s going on here, Miss O’Reilly?” he asked.
Please, Binnie mouthed.
Eileen turned, unlatched the gate, and let them into the chapel. “Alf and Binnie were just telling me about their mother,” she said. “She was killed last autumn.
They’ve been living on their own in the shelters.”
Binnie looked utterly betrayed.
“What’d you do that for?” Alf wailed. “Now they’ll send us away, and you’re the only one what’s nice to us.”
“We don’t need no one to take care of us,” Binnie said belligerently. “Me ’n’ Alf can take care of ourselves.”
“I’ll take them in,” Eileen said.
“What?” Polly said. “You can’t—”
“Someone must. They obviously can’t go on living in the tube stations,” Eileen said. “Mr. Goode, can you arrange for me to be named their guardian?”
“Yes, of course, but …” He turned to Mr. Humphreys. “Would you mind terribly showing the children round the cathedral for a bit? We need to discuss—”
“Of course,” Mr. Humphreys said. “Poor things. Come along with me, children.”
“It’ll be all right,” Eileen said to Binnie.
“You swear?”
“I swear. Go on, go with Mr. Humphreys.”
They’ll bolt, just as they did the morning after the twenty-ninth, Polly thought, but they went docilely off with the verger.
“Come, I’ll show you The Light of the World,” Polly heard him say as they went up the aisle.
“We already seen it,” Alf said.
“Oh, but you’ll find that you see something different in it each time,” Mr. Humphreys replied.
I can imagine, Polly thought.
Their footsteps died away. “Are you quite certain you want to do this, Miss O’Reilly?” the vicar asked. “After all, the Hodbins are—”
“I know,” Eileen said.
“Mrs. Rickett will never allow it,” Polly said. “You know her rules.”
“And it would be better if they were safely out of London,” the vicar said. “The Evacuation Committee—”
“No,” Eileen said. “If they’re evacuated, they’ll run away, and they won’t survive on their own. Alf plays with UXBs, and Binnie’s a young girl. She can’t just run wild in the shelters, or …”
She’ll end up like her mother, Polly thought.
“They haven’t anyone else,” Eileen said to Polly. “If we don’t rescue them—”
“But what about Mrs. Rickett?” Polly said. “You know her rules—no cooking in the room, no pets, no children. And Mr. Goode’s leave is up today—”
“I’ll see if I can get additional time, since this is a matter involving my parishioners,” he said. “And perhaps I can persuade Mrs. Rickett to relax her rules, given the circumstances.”
I highly doubt that, Polly thought, and just as she expected, Mrs. Rickett was not impressed by either the vicar’s clerical collar or his arguments.
“You know the rules,” she said, her arms folded militantly across her chest. “No children.”
“But their mother was killed in a raid,” the vicar said, “and they’ve nowhere else to go. The Church will provide cots and bedding for them.”
“And we’ll see that they don’t cause you any bother,” Eileen added.
That’s not the way to Mrs. Rickett’s heart, Polly thought. “We’ll pay extra for their board,” she said, “and children are allowed an extra milk ration.”
“How large a ration?” Mrs. Rickett demanded, her eyes glittering at the thought of the milk puddings and cream soups she could cook up into inedible messes.
“Half a pint a day,” the vicar said.
“Very well,” Mrs. Rickett said, nearly snatching the children’s ration books out of Eileen’s hands, “but their board won’t begin till the day after tomorrow.”
Of course, Polly thought.
“And if there’s any playing on the stairs, or any noise—”
“There won’t be,” Eileen said earnestly. “They’re very nicely behaved children.”
“You should join the troupe,” Polly said after Mrs. Rickett had gone. “You’re a far better actress than I am.”
Eileen ignored her. “Thank you so much, Mr. Goode,” she said. “We couldn’t have managed it without you. You’ve been wonderful.”
He had. In the two extra days’ leave he’d managed to wangle, he’d not only obtained new ration books and new clothes for Alf and Binnie but had had Eileen named their temporary guardian and had arranged for a school.
“School?” Alf and Binnie said, as if he’d suggested burning them at the stake.
“Yes,” the vicar said sternly, “and if you don’t go every day and do everything Miss O’Reilly tells you, she’ll write to me, and I’ll have you sent straight to the orphanage.”
