by Lou Kuenzler
“What are you kids doing up ’ere?” roared the woman. “Poking around, I’ll warrant.”
“We didn’t mean any harm,” panted Edie, scrambling over the wall. Her stupid skirt got caught on a stone and she was stuck for a minute, halfway up and halfway down the wall, struggling to find a foothold. She pulled her leg free just in time, as the dog circled beneath her snarling.
“We were scrumping for apples, that’s all,” she tried to explain.
“Scrumping?” As Edie glanced back, she saw the woman’s face had turned purple. She had a feeling she’d said the wrong thing. “Donny!” the woman hollered. “Donny! Get your gun!”
Donny? Edie was over the wall at last. Gus landed on the lane beside her. Wasn’t Donny the name of the horrible young farmer who’d kicked the crate of chickens across the station platform?
“Run!” Edie cried. There was only one direction to go – and it was straight uphill, of course. Gus pelted after her, stumbling up the steep slope towards the railway line.
Partway up, Edie fell. As she staggered to her feet again, she looked back and saw the tall, skinny farmer standing on the wall. He was shaking something that looked like a thick black stick at them.
Crack! A sound like another breaking branch split the air.
“Hell’s teeth!” gasped Gus.
Edie screamed. She knew it wasn’t a stick the farmer was shaking, nor the sound of a breaking branch. He really did have a gun, and he was firing it at them.
“Quick!” They had reached the railway line. Gus grabbed her hand and they half-ran, half-rolled down the steep siding and dashed into the deep shadowy safety of the long tunnel they had explored before. Edie didn’t mind the dark now, and she didn’t feel silly holding Gus’s hand, either. They stumbled on, until the light at the end of the tunnel behind them was no bigger than the bulb of a torch.
“Stop!” panted Edie, clutching her aching sides with her free hand. “I think we’re safe now. Surely he won’t come this far in.”
“You’re right,” puffed Gus, letting go of her hand and doubling over in the gloom. “We must be nearly through. Look. I can see daylight.” He straightened up again and pointed towards a small glowing light coming from the other end of the tunnel.
“No!” Edie raised her head and blinked in horror. “That’s not daylight,” she cried. “It’s moving. It’s coming towards us.”
The tracks beneath them began to hum, almost buzzing at first. Then the tunnel was filled with a great roaring and rattling sound.
“It’s a train!” screamed Edie. “Get flat against the wall.”
She leant back and almost fell. Where she was expecting solid brick, there was nothing behind her at all. No wall – just an empty space.
“Quick!” Gus grabbed for her. All he got hold of was her pigtail but he pulled.
“Ouch!” yelped Edie. Both of them stumbled backwards into the emptiness, which turned out to be a hollow archway in the tunnel wall.
“It’s a manhole,” shouted Gus. They were pressed together so tightly he was hollering in her ear. “For the railway workers to… ” But his words were lost. The roar and shudder of the passing train drowned out everything. There was a great blast of hot air. The tunnel shook and rumbled like an earthquake. Edie thought her ears would burst. Her nose and throat were full of thick, bitter smoke, and as each carriage passed, the lights inside flashed like bolts of lightning.
Then it was gone. The red lamps on the back of the guard’s van rumbled away down the long tunnel. The air around them stilled. It was cold and damp and dark again.
“Crikey!” said Gus. His voice was thick and shaky.
“Crikey indeed,” whispered Edie. She could barely get her voice to work at all.
Without another word between them, they stumbled back towards the light at the mouth of the tunnel where they’d come from.
As they reached the entrance, Gus paused.
“What if the farmer’s still there?” he asked.
“I don’t care,” said Edie. All she wanted to do was see the daylight, feel the sun on her skin and breathe in fresh air.
“Ey up! What’s happened to you?”
Edie and Gus had followed the railway along the other side and come up on the lane behind the station.
They were sitting on the sunny bank, catching their breath, when Perky rode past on his bike.
“You look like a pair of chimney sweeps,” he laughed, turning his bike in tight circles in front of them.
Edie looked at Gus properly for the first time since they had come out of the tunnel. His face was black with soot. She ran her fingers down her own cheek and saw that they were smutty too.
“Oh, dear,” she groaned.
“That’s good, that is,” laughed Perky. “The two sweeps from Three Chimneys. Where’s the little’un? Did you leave her up on the rooftop with a brush?”
“Oh, shut up, will you,” growled Gus, rubbing at his face with his sweater. But that only seemed to spread the soot around and make things worse.
“Greta’s safe at home,” said Edie. “But, oh, Perky. It was terrible. We were running away from Boar’s Head Farm and we hid in the long deep tunnel and a train came.”
“Boar’s Head?” Perky stopped circling his bike at last. “The Snigson place? What the dickens were you doing up there?”
“We were just – erm… ” Edie had the distinct feeling she shouldn’t admit to Perky exactly what they had been up to. Something about their whole country adventure was beginning to feel a little silly.
But it was too late. Gus folded his arms and jutted out his chin. “We were scrumping,” he said defiantly. “That’s what!”
“Scrumpin’? Oh, dear. That’s good, that is! Scrumpin’! It’s only springtime!” Perky was howling with laughter. “You won’t get apples on trees at this time of year, you daft beggars. Not till the tail end of summer.” Edie thought she saw actual tears rolling down his cheeks. “Don’t you city kids know nothing?”
“No!” Edie started to laugh too. “It seems we don’t!” She could see the funny side. They really had been idiots. Even she knew, now she thought about it, that the trees had to blossom first, long before they could bear fruit.
“There aren’t even any apple trees at Boar’s Head,” chuckled Perky. “Blackthorns, more likely.” His face creased up with laughter all over again.
“All right, you’ve had your joke,” said Gus furiously. He leapt to his feet and began pacing up and down. “It’s not that funny.”
“No,” said Perky. “It isn’t.” And in an instant his cheeky smile was gone. “You need to watch yourselves. Len and Donny Snigson are as bad as folk get. You don’t want to go poking around their farm looking for trouble.”
“A woman saw us too,” said Edie.
“Ma Snigson.” Perky nodded. “She’s their mother. Runs the farm with Donny since her husband died. Don’t let that pudgy apple-dumpling look of hers fool you. She’d slice you up with the wood axe quicker than a leg of ham.”
Edie shuddered. “She set her dog on us. Then Donny fired a gun.” Her hands were still shaking. She’d thought life in the country would be quiet and peaceful after all the bombing raids of the Blitz. Now, she wasn’t so sure.
“You’ve had a lucky escape,” said Perky. “Those Snigsons don’t like anyone to go poking their noses round. Folk say they’ve got all sorts up there: pigs the ministry don’t know nothing about, black-market food, fighting cockerels – you name it. But nobody can ever prove a thing.”
“I’d like to try,” mumbled Gus. But Perky shook his head.
“They’re slippery brutes, those Snigsons,” he said. “There’s Donny up to goodness knows what out there on the farm. And Len – he’s the older brother – down here at the station. I think he’s probably shifting all sorts of stuff in an’ out when he shouldn’t be. It’s the perfect cover for a porter.”
“How terrible,” gasped Edie. Could it really be true that the Snigson’s were bu
sy trying to cheat the country out of precious food and money just to make a profit for themselves while there was a war on? She found it hard to believe. Especially while brave men like Perky’s father – the real station porter – were away fighting.
“It’s so unpatriotic,” added Gus.
Perky shrugged. “At least Colonel Crowther’s got his eye on ’em.” He pointed down the lane to where they could just make out the side of a pretty white house with a thatched roof. “He lives there at England’s Corner. He’s chief of the local Home Guard – it’s not a real army or anything, just old farmers and a couple of young lads who haven’t been called-up yet. But they’ve still got a few real weapons and whatnot in case Hitler invades and decides to set out over the dales.”
Edie giggled at the thought of the German army marching past the village post office. She was sure Hitler had more important targets in mind. But Perky seemed deadly serious for once. “Colonel Crowther’s a real hero. He won medals in the last war and everything. He made the Snigsons join the Home Guard so they’d keep out of trouble. There’s only so much he can do, mind, unless he catches the beggars red-handed.”
“We should report Donny for what he did today,” said Gus. “That would be a start. Surely you can’t go firing guns at children? Even in the countryside?”
“Well,” said Perky, “maybe, but… ” He bit his lip. “I don’t know. You were trespassing.”
“Oh, let’s not,” said Edie. She thought of all the fuss there’d be. On their very first day at Three Chimneys too. And it wasn’t even certain Gus and Greta could stay yet. “We were trying to steal apples, after all.”
That set Perky off again, howling with laughter. Gus scowled and muttered under his breath, “Country bumpkin!”
Perky stopped laughing. “What’s that you say, city boy?” He clenched his fists and stepped forward menacingly. “Shall we see if you can take it on the chin?”
“Come on, then!” Gus put his hands up too like a boxer, although he didn’t look half as sure of himself as Perky.
“Oh, for pity’s sake!” Edie sighed and stepped in between them. “I don’t know about fighting cockerels, but you boys are far worse. We’re supposed to be on the same side. There’s a war on, remember.”
“True enough!” Perky shrugged and the cloud lifted from his face as quickly as it had come. “Friends?” he said, and he held out his hand to Gus.
Gus said nothing. He kicked at the ground, still brooding, his forehead furrowed like a ploughed field. He really did seem to hate being laughed at.
“Come on!” Edie threw her hands in the air. “Haven’t you got any sense of fair play, or whatever it is you boys are always going on about on the cricket pitch? Slap him on the back and tell him he’s a fine fellow or something and we can all be done with it.” Edie knew there was no answer Gus could give back to that.
“Fine!” He wiped his sooty palms on the back of his trousers and shook hands with Perky at last.
“Well,” Perky smiled. “Now that’s all sorted, I’d best be heading on my way or else my aunty Patsy in the post office’ll have my guts for garters.” He pointed to the bike. “I help out, sometimes, delivering parcels and telegrams an’ that. I was only supposed to nip out to old Miss Peckitt’s. She left her ration book on the counter and I said I’d drop it off and be back in a jiffy.” He spun the bike around and pedalled away. “Best wash the soot off your faces before you head up home,” he called over his shoulder. “There’s a pump at the bottom of Colonel Crowther’s garden. He won’t mind.”
Edie looked at Gus’s sooty face and sighed. “Perky’s right,” she said. “We should clean ourselves up a bit. It’ll be easier not to have to explain anything when we get home. There’s no need to mention running into the tunnel or any of this, don’t you think?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t want to worry your aunt and uncle,” said Gus. Though Edie was pretty sure he just didn’t want to get into trouble either.
They slipped through a little white gate, marked ENGLAND’S CORNER, at the bottom of the garden which Perky had pointed out.
They were surprised to see an old gentleman, fast asleep on a deckchair in the sun. He had a battered pith helmet, the sort that jungle explorers wear, resting on his chest. It rose and fell with every breath.
“What should we do?” hissed Edie, frozen to the spot. This was the second time today she had found herself trespassing and she hadn’t even had her lunch yet. “Should we wake him up and ask permission to use the pump. Or should we just turn back and tiptoe away?”
“No need for either course of action, young lady.” The stretched-out figure spoke. “I am not sleeping, my dear. Merely dozing.” He raised his head a little and peered at them over the top of the pith helmet. “You must be Peter and Roberta’s niece. Edith, is it?”
“Yes,” she replied and nodded. She didn’t dare to say she’d rather be known as Edie. His voice was so rich and round, he sounded more like someone off the radio than an ordinary living person. It was as if he was making an announcement about her on the BBC.
“And this, I presume, is your evacuee friend,” he continued. “The jumper-from-trains? I’ve heard all about you.”
“He’s Gus,” said Edie. “Gus Smith… Introduce yourself,” she hissed in Gus’s ear.
“I don’t need to now. You’ve done it already,” Gus hissed back.
“Quite so.” Colonel Crowther sat up and Edie saw that he had the most wonderful bushy moustache. It curled up perfectly, like the handlebars of a bicycle, at both ends.
He must look magnificent with his full Colonel’s uniform on, helmet and everything, she thought.
“So,” he said, “you wish to avail yourselves of my pump?” He peered at their sooty faces. “I can quite see why.”
“May we?” asked Edie. “Perky – I mean Albert Perks, the young one – said you wouldn’t mind and … well, as you can see, we’ve got ourselves in a spot of bother.”
“Say no more!” The colonel raised his hand. “Any friend of young Perky’s is a friend of mine.” He motioned to an old-fashioned iron pump beside the hedge. “Help yourself.”
“Thank you!” Edie gratefully began to scrub her face.
“No doubt you were scrumping or some such larks?” The colonel chuckled.
“Yes, sir.” Gus nodded. “You see,” he whispered in Edie’s ear. “He doesn’t think it’s stupid to try scrumping at this time of year. And he’s a colonel… ”
When they had both washed their faces, Colonel Crowther saluted them. “That old damson tree will have some fine fruit in a few months’ time,” he said pointing towards a sunny corner of the house. “Come and help yourself, if you’re still around.”
“Thank you,” said Edie. “That’s very kind.”
With their faces clean and their pride restored a little, she backed out of the garden at England’s Corner. The Colonel seemed so upright and grand, she felt almost as if she had met King George himself.
Chapter Seven
Headquarters
When Edie and Gus got back to Three Chimneys, they found that Aunt Roberta had just returned from Maidbridge too.
“Good news,” she said. “I spoke to the Evacuation Board and Gus and Greta can stay here for the duration of the war if they need to. They are now our official Three Chimneys evacuees.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful.” Without thinking, Edie threw her arms round Aunt Roberta. She was so excited, and it was such a magnificent thing she had done, that she almost forgot to be scared of her. If Aunt Roberta could welcome the evacuees so generously, perhaps she could come to truly love Edie too, and the whole row with Fliss would be forgotten.
Aunt Roberta returned Edie’s hug just as warmly, and Edie felt a glow inside.
“Thank you! Now we can be the Railway Children after all,” she cried. She slapped Gus heartily on the back and blew a kiss to Greta. Already, she couldn’t imagine living here without them.
“Hooray!” cheered Greta
dancing round and round the kitchen table. “Three Chimbleys is going to be our home.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” said Gus, a little formally.
“Oh, goodness, if you’re going to stay, I think you ought to call me Aunt Roberta, don’t you?” she said.
“Thank you, Aunt Roberta.” Gus grinned and Edie felt like throwing her arms around her all over again.
“The board were finding it hard to place evacuees as it was,” Aunt Roberta explained. “Most city children came in the first few months of the war – and half of them have gone back to London already, thinking the bombing down there wasn’t going to be nearly as bad as it is. The whole thing seems to be a bit of a muddle.” Aunt Roberta shrugged. “But that still leaves the question of school.”
“School?” Edie had almost forgotten about that.
“Gus is too old to go to the one in the village,” said Aunt Roberta. “And you will be too by the end of term, Edie. So I suggested Uncle Peter and I could teach you here until the summer holidays. Then we’ll think about you both starting at the grammars in Maidbridge in September. We’ll sort something out for Greta then too – if this rotten war is still going on, that is.”
“So you mean, no school this term at all?” said Edie. “The summer holidays start now?”
“Well, as I say, you’ll still have some lessons with Uncle Peter and with me when I’m not working at the hospital,” Aunt Roberta repeated. “But… ”
All three children were dancing round the kitchen table now, whooping and cheering.
“I wouldn’t be so excited if I was you.” Aunt Roberta raised her voice above the noise. “I’ll have you all learning poems by heart, you know!” Then she rolled up her sleeves and went outside to milk the goat.
“Isn’t she manificent?” whispered Greta.
“Magnificent?” Edie laughed. But she had to agree, there was something rather magnificent about Aunt Roberta. She was strict and firm and proper. So different from Fliss. But she was also kind and generous. Every once in a while, Edie caught a glimpse of the girl she must have been all those years ago – the young Bobbie who’d had the wonderful idea of saving the train by ripping up her red flannel petticoats.
