“It’s wonderful the way her ladyship pitches in and does her bit for the war effort,” Mr. Tooley said. “I know some in her place wouldn’t take in a stray kitten, let alone give a lot of slum brats a home.”

He shouldn’t have said the word “home.” Theodore immediately began tugging on Eileen’s coat. “How late do you think the train will be today, Mr. Tooley?” she asked.

“No telling. Might be hours.”

Hours, and the afternoon was already drawing in. This time of year it began to grow dark by three and was pitch black by five. With the blackout…

“I don’t want to wait hours,” Theodore said. “I want to go home now.”

Mr. Tooley snorted. “Don’t know when they’re well off. Now Christmas is coming, they’ll all want to go home.” Eileen hoped not. Evacuees had begun to trickle back to London as the months of the Phoney War went by, and by the time the Blitz began, 75 percent had been back in London, but she hadn’t thought it would happen so soon.

“You want to go home now, but when the bombing starts, you’ll wish you were back here.” Mr. Tooley shook his finger at Theodore. “But it’ll be too late then.” He stomped back to his office and slammed the door, but none of it had any effect on Theodore.

“I want to go home,” he repeated stolidly.

“The train will be here soon,” Eileen assured him.

“I’ll wager it won’t,” a little boy’s voice said. “It-” and was cut off by a fierce “Shh.”

Eileen turned, but there was no one on the platform. She walked quickly over to the edge and looked down at the tracks. There was no one there either. “Binnie! Alf!” she called. “Come out from under there immediately,” and Binnie crawled out from underneath the platform, followed by her little brother, Alf. “Come up off those tracks. It’s dangerous. The train might come.”