Connie Willis - Blackout

“She isn’t my mother,” Theodore piped up, and the headmistress turned the gimlet eye on him. He shrank back against Eileen.

“They’re evacuees,” Eileen said, putting her arm around him.

“All the more reason for you to use a strong hand with them.”

Alf put his hand on his stomach. “I don’t feel well, Eileen.”

“Alf allus gets sick on trains,” Binnie said.

“I shouldn’t wonder,” the headmistress said to Eileen. “This is what comes of giving them lemonade. A dose of castor oil will cure them.”

Alf promptly removed his hand from his stomach, and he and Binnie both scooted over to the corner.

“It’s clear all three of your charges have been pampered and indulged far too much,” she said, glaring at Theodore.

Theodore. Who’s had a luggage tag pinned to his coat and been handed over to strangers and shipped off to a strange place how many times?

“Coddling is not what children need,” the headmistress said. She turned to glower momentarily at Alf and Binnie, who were whispering in the corner. “They need discipline and a firm hand, particularly during times like these.”

I’d have thought they needed more “coddling” during a war, Eileen thought, not less.

“Being nice to children only makes them dependent and weak,” which weren’t exactly the words Eileen would have used to describe Alf and Binnie. “Spare the rod and spoil the child.”

“You mean beating?” Theodore asked tremulously, burrowing into Eileen’s side.

“When necessary,” the headmistress said, looking over at Alf and Binnie with an expression that clearly indicated she thought it was necessary now.

Alf had stepped up on the seat to reach the luggage rack and Binnie was standing below to catch him. “Alf, sit down,” Eileen said.

“I’m lookin’ for my planespotter log,” he said, “so I can write down the planes I seen.”

“Children should not be allowed to talk back to their elders,” the headmistress said. “Or to clamber about like monkeys. You there,” she shouted to them, “sit down at once,” and, amazingly, they both obeyed her. They sat down next to her, their hands folded on their laps.

“You see?” she said. “Firmness is all that is required. These modern notions of allowing children to do whatever they-yowp!” She shot to her feet, flung her handbag at Eileen, and brushed madly at her lap as if it had caught fire.

“Alf, what did you do?” Eileen said, but he and Binnie were already on their knees scrabbling to retrieve something off the floor. Alf jammed it in his pocket.

“Nuthin’,” he said, standing up and holding out his empty hands.

“We was just sittin’ there,” Binnie said innocently.

“Horrid children,” the headmistress said furiously and wheeled on Eileen. “You are obviously unfit to have children in your care.” She snatched her handbag out of Eileen’s hands. “I intend to report you to the Evacuation Committee. And the conductor.” She snatched up her suitcase and her parcels and turned on Alf and Binnie. “I predict you two will come to a bad end.” She swept out of the compartment.

“I only wanted to show her it wasn’t ’maginary,” Alf said, pulling a green garter snake out of his pocket.

“And it served ’er right,” Binnie added darkly.

Yes, it did, Eileen thought, but she said, “You had no business bringing a snake on the train.”

“I couldn’t leave ’im all alone at the manor,” Alf said. “’E might’ve got shot. ’Is name’s Bill,” he added fondly.

“Will we be thrown off the train?” Theodore asked fearfully, and as if in answer, the train began to slow. Alf and Binnie dived for the window.

“It’s awright,” Binnie said, “we’re comin’ into a station.” But at the end of ten minutes, the train hadn’t started up again, and when Eileen went out in the corridor (after warning the children not to move while she was gone) she saw the headmistress out on the platform shaking her finger at the stationmaster, who was looking anxiously at his pocket watch.

Eileen retreated hastily back inside the compartment. “Alf, you must get rid of that snake this minute.”

“Get rid of Bill?” Alf said, appalled.

“Yes.”

“’Ow?”

“I don’t care,” she began to say, then had a horrible image of it slithering down the corridor. “Put it out the window.”

“Out the window? ’E’ll be run over!” and Theodore began to cry.

One more day, Eileen thought, and I will never have to see these children again.

The train was beginning to move. The stationmaster must have persuaded the headmistress to allow them to stay on board. Or perhaps she’d stormed off to take a later train. “You can’t throw Bill out now we’re movin’,” Binnie said. “It’d kill ’im for sure.”

“It ain’t Bill’s fault ’e’s ’ere,” Alf argued. “You wouldn’t like it if you was somewhere you wasn’t s’posed to be and somebody tried to kill you.”

Which is exactly the situation I’ll be in when I reach London, Eileen thought. “Very well,” she said, “but you must put him out the next time we stop. And till then, he stays in your haversack. If you take him out, it’s out the window.”

Alf nodded, climbed on the seat, stowed the snake away, and jumped down. “Can I ’ave some chocolate?”

“No,” Eileen said, looking anxiously at the door, but when the guard appeared, it was only to punch their tickets, and there were no other intrusions, not even when the train stopped at Reading and passengers swarmed aboard.

Word must have spread, she thought, wondering how long it would take the Hodbins to become notorious throughout London. A week.

But in the meantime, Theodore could sit beside her instead of on her lap, and she didn’t have to listen to the headmistress’s lectures, so when the candy butcher came through, she relented and bought them a chocolate bar.

She should have known better. They immediately demanded Cornish pasties, followed by peppermint rock and sausage rolls. I’ll be bankrupt before we reach London, she thought, and let’s hope Alf doesn’t really get sick on trains, but he was busy marking Xes on his map and pointing out nonexistent planes to Theodore.

“Look, there’s a Messerschmitt! ME’s have got five-hundred-pound bombs on ’em. They can blow up a whole train. If they dropped one on you, they wouldn’t be able to find your body or nuthin’. Ka-bloom! You’d disappear, just like that.”

The two of them pressed their noses to the window to search for more planes. Binnie was engrossed in a film magazine one of the young women must have left behind. Eileen picked up the stout man’s newspaper to see if there was an ad for John Lewis or Selfridges which would give their addresses.

Both stores were open till six. Good. With luck, she’d be able to deliver the children and make it to both before they closed. But what if Polly didn’t work at either department store? Eileen scanned the ads, looking for the other name Polly’d mentioned. Dickins and Jones? No. Parker and Co.? No, but she was more convinced than ever the name had begun with a P. Was it P. D. White’s?

No, here it was. Padgett’s. I knew I’d remember it when I saw it. Padgett’s was open till six, too, and from the addresses, it looked as if they were only a few blocks apart. With luck, she could check all three before closing. She hoped there wasn’t a raid tonight. Or if there was, that it wasn’t over Oxford Street. The idea of being in an air raid was terrifying. I should have researched the Blitz so I’d know where and when they were, she thought. But it had never occurred to her that she would need to know those things.

Polly had said the Underground stations had been used as shelters. She could go there if there was a raid. But not all of them were safe-she remembered Colin giving Polly a list of the ones which had been hit, but she couldn’t remember which ones he’d said.

Once I find Polly, I’ll be all right, Eileen thought. She knows everything about the Blitz. Thank goodness she knew what name Polly was using and could ask for Miss Sebastian instead of-

“Polly,” Binnie said.

“What?” Eileen asked sharply, thinking for an awful moment that she’d spoken her thoughts aloud.

“What about Polly? For my name. Polly ’Odbin. Or Molly. Or Vronica.” She shoved the magazine at Eileen and pointed at a photo of Veronica Lake. “Do I look like a Vronica?”

“You look like a toad,” Alf said.

“I do not,” Binnie said and whacked him with the magazine. “Take it back.”

“I won’t!” Alf shouted, shielding his head with his arms. “Toad ’Odbin! Toad ’Odbin!”

One more day, Eileen thought, separating them. I’ll never make it. “Alf, do your planespotting,” she ordered. “Binnie, read your magazine. Theodore, come here and I’ll tell you a story. Once upon a time there was a princess. A wicked witch locked her in a tiny room with two evil monsters-”

“Look,” Alf said. “A barrage balloon!”

“Where?” Theodore asked.

“There.” Alf pointed out the window. “That big silver thing. They use ’em to keep the jerries from dive-bombing.”

That meant they must be nearing London, but when Eileen looked out the window, they were still in the country, and she couldn’t see anything that remotely resembled a barrage balloon.

“You seen a cloud,” Binnie said, but the only clouds were faint, feathery lines crisscrossing the expanse of vivid blue. Looking out at the sky and the passing fields and trees and quaint villages, with their stone churches and thatched cottages, it was difficult to imagine they were in the middle of a war.

Or that they would ever get to London. The afternoon wore on. Alf marked nonexistent Stukas and Bristol Blenheims on his map, Binnie murmured, “Claudette… Olivia… Katharine ’Epburn ’Odburn,” and Theodore fell asleep. Eileen went back to reading the paper. On page four, there was an ad encouraging parents to enroll their children in the Overseas Programme. “Have the comfort of knowing they’re safe,” it read.

Unless they’re on the City of Benares, she thought, looking worriedly at Alf and Binnie. Today was the ninth. If Mrs. Hodbin took them to the office tomorrow and they left for Portsmouth on Wednesday, they might very well end up on the City of Benares. It had sailed on the thirteenth and been sunk four days later.

“I’m hot,” Binnie said, fanning herself with her magazine. It was hot. The afternoon sun was streaming in, but pulling down the shade wasn’t an option. It had been designed for the blackout and shut out all light. And it would deprive Alf of his planespotting, and he’d think up some other mischief.

“I’ll open the window,” Alf said and jumped up on the plush seat. There was a sudden jerk, a whoosh of releasing steam, and the train began to slow sharply.

“What did you do?” Eileen said.

“Nuthin’.”

“I’ll wager he pulled the emergency cord,” Binnie said.

“I never,” Alf said hotly.

“Then why’s the train stoppin’?” she asked.

“Did you let Bill out?” Eileen demanded.

“No.” He rummaged in his haversack and held up the wriggling snake. “See?” He shoved it back in and jumped down. “I’ll wager we’re comin’ to a station.”