Page 49 of Strangers in Time
G ONE BY E QUAL M EASURES
T HE FIRE brIGADE AND members of the Civil Defence’s Heavy Rescue Division finally managed to pull Mrs. Pride’s body from the rubble of what had once been the stately Wakefield home. Oliver, Molly, and Charlie stood numbly by as the dead woman’s body was placed into an ambulance and taken away. It would be determined later that nearly a hundred people were killed during this raid, five hundred more injured, and more than a hundred homes and buildings destroyed, many of them in the posh areas of Chelsea, Knightsbridge, and Mayfair.
“But she wasn’t in there when we left,” said Molly, still in shock at losing her nanny, her home, and all her possessions in a few hours’ time.
“She might have gone out and then come back for some reason,” said Oliver. “And then decided to shelter there. It is very tragic.” He looked up and down the street. All the other structures in his line of sight had remained largely undamaged aside from Molly’s and the one next to hers. He well knew there was never any rhyme or reason as to why one place was hit and another one wasn’t.
As they stood there another constable came over. “You lived there, lass?” he asked.
“W-what?” she stuttered.
“You lived there with the dead woman? The lady over there said so. Said Mrs. Pride was your nanny.”
“That’s right.”
“Where are your parents then, luv?”
Molly froze but only for an instant. “They… they were not at home. I expect them back tomorrow.”
“All right. Do you have some place to stay until they get back?”
Oliver stepped up. “She can stay with… with my wife and me. We’re friends of the family. We were here visiting Molly while her parents were gone. We went to the Underground when the sirens sounded.”
The constable glanced at Charlie. “And you, lad?”
“He’s my son,” answered Oliver promptly.
“Right then. Well, good luck to you all.”
He hurried back over to where Molly’s home had once stood.
Molly said, “Where do Charlie and I go now? An orphanage?”
She glanced at Charlie, who stared dully back at her.
“I think we can allow that discussion to wait for another time,” said Oliver.
“Mrs. Pride must be given a proper burial, but I’m not sure how to manage it. What little monies we had were inside the house.”
“Does she have family?” asked Oliver.
Molly slowly shook her head. “None that I know of. Her husband died before she came to work for us. She never mentioned children.”
“Siblings, perhaps?”
“I don’t know. It seems quite stupid on my part but we never talked about any of that,” she added guiltily.
“Well, let’s go to the bookshop and we can think things over. We’ll come up with something.”
They walked off through the smoke and destruction of the night’s bombing, past fresh rubble, and bodies under bloody sheets, and the wounded being loaded into vehicles, and slowly made their way to Covent Garden and The Book Keep. Oliver unlocked the door and ushered them in.
“I have a spare room that you and Charlie can use. Imogen kept items from her younger days that I still have and that might fit you, Molly. And I had a cousin’s son who lived with us early on in the war and who was around your size, Charlie. He left some odd bits of clothing behind.”
It was evident to both Molly and Charlie that Oliver was trying his best to remain optimistic in the face of such stark challenges.
“I have food… um, enough,” he added feebly. “And a good deal of tea.”
Molly gasped. “My ration book. It was in the house.”
Charlie said, “Gran had my book. It’s long gone by now.”
Oliver said, “It only costs a shilling to replace a lost ration book. However, it might be… difficult, since you both would have to appear in person to claim a new one. And there would be troublesome questions. Oh, before I forget, we should talk about your schooling.”
“I’m of age, all done,” said Charlie immediately.
Molly added, “I am as well, but I hope to sit for my exams next year when I turn sixteen.”
“All right,” said a relieved Oliver. He rushed off to make tea, while Charlie found himself staring at the repaired front door. Molly caught his eye.
“Charlie, is something wrong?”
He turned to her with an angry look. “Pretty much everythin’ is wrong, for both of us. Don’t you see that? We are orphans. Least I am, and you’re close to it. They’ll put us in some place with a bunch of other kids nobody cares about.”
“That’s not how it works, Charlie.”
His features tightened and he snapped, “It is how it works. I got mates. I know what happens to… to people like that.” He glanced at the door again, and his anger faded to melancholy.
Oliver returned with the teacups and a few biscuits on a tray.
They drank the tea and Charlie had two biscuits, while Molly had one. She ate it with a detached air, as her gaze ran mindlessly over the shelved books.
Oliver peered over his cup at each of them in turn. The weight of what he had just decided to do was clearly pressing down upon his slender shoulders, compacting him into perhaps a lessened version of himself. He turned to look at the till and seemed to be calculating how much money was in there.
Not nearly enough , his sober expression proclaimed. A widower without children now had two, and in contravention of the law. Orphaned children were sent to orphanages. He knew that better than most. He and his brother had gone to an orphanage when their parents had been killed in a railway accident near Doncaster.
“I really can’t believe that Mrs. Pride is gone,” said Molly. “Aside from my mother she was my only companion, really. My father was always so busy.”
“I’m sure he loves you very much, Molly,” said Oliver.
“But he left without a word to me. No telegram, no letter. It’s… it’s inexcusable. And my poor mother’s in a sanatorium. I have no home. I have nothing, only the clothes on my back, literally.” She paused and glanced over at Charlie, who was watching her closely as he finished the last biscuit.
“I’m sorry, Charlie. I know that you have had to manage with far less than I have.”
“You lost your home tonight. And your nanny. You got good reason to be mad. I was mad when Gran died. I’m still bloody mad,” he added sharply.
She took some time finishing her tea. “If only I had an idea of where my father is.” Molly eyed Oliver. “Before the sirens started you were talking about my father and the men at the graveyard. But it has nothing to do with me, does it?”
“No, not directly.”
“It has to do with my father, you mean? You mentioned this Secrets Act. If he didn’t work for the Ministry of Food, where was my father working?”
Oliver slowly set down his cup of tea and rubbed his thigh where one of the burns he had suffered previously had begun to ache.
“The person I spoke with said he thought your father had also signed the Official Secrets Act.”
“And why would he do that?”
“There are many reasons. If he was involved in the war effort and was privy to confidential information would be one of them.”
“Could it be he was, I don’t know, a spy working against the Germans?” She glanced sharply at Charlie, who was watching Oliver closely. “I know he traveled to the Continent quite often before the war, but I was never told why.”
Oliver said uncertainly, “It’s possible , Molly.”
“Has he been captured by the Germans then? Has… has he been killed?”
“I really have no idea,” said Oliver. “I’m sorry.”
She persisted. “But can you find out more, considering what you used to do? And the men watching me? Maybe they would know something?”
Oliver looked at her uneasily. “I… I can try.”
“I would appreciate that very much, thank you.”
Oliver cleared his throat and said, “I did look up the Beneficial Institute. It’s on the coast near Falmouth in Cornwall.”
Molly said eagerly, “Is there a way to get there?”
“There is no bus service right now. The GWR has train service to Falmouth. But with wartime restrictions, it takes about ten hours, and the trains do not run regularly. The military takes precedence and all that. And the Germans routinely bomb the train tracks, so there is that impediment as well.”
“But can I still make the journey? I really need to see my mother. And she may know where my father is.”
“There is the question of the price of the tickets,” said Oliver slowly, once more glancing at the till. “And you’ll need food and clothing and money for lodging and other essentials.”
“I can earn money,” she said. “I… I can work in your shop.”
“Yes, you could. Though sometimes days go by without a customer coming in.”
“Well, I could tidy up the place.”
“Absolutely. Yes, you can.”
She looked at Charlie, who was intently watching the nervous expression on Oliver’s face. Unlike Molly, who was so focused on finding the means to reach her mother, he could evidently sense the man’s misgivings on the subject of paying wages for “tidying up.”
“And Charlie could work here, too,” said Molly brightly.
“For room and board,” said Charlie. “But I’ll work someplace else for pocket money.”
Molly looked confused by this and Oliver said, “Charlie, there’s really no need. I’m sure I can find the means with which to pay you both.”
Charlie shook his head. “You should only pay us, Mr. Oliver, if you need us to work for you. Otherwise, it’s just charity, and Gran never liked to take charity and she taught me the same. And you only got the one ration book for the three of us. Gran had both of ours, and it still weren’t enough food.”
Molly looked crestfallen. “I can find work elsewhere too, I’m sure.”
“But you’re just children,” protested Oliver.
Molly said briskly, “I’m no longer a child, Mr. Oliver. And there’s a chemist’s shop down the street. I did a great many prescription fillings at the hospital in Leiston. I can see if they need an assistant.”
“There are age requirements surely, Molly,” pointed out Oliver.
Her voice rose to a tremulous level. “I just saved a man’s life tonight, for God’s sake. And I can make inquiries, can’t I?”
“Of course you can,” conceded Oliver. “But for now, I think a good night’s rest is required after all the shocks you’ve endured. Things will look better in the morning.”
Neither Molly nor Charlie looked like they thought that was remotely possible.
And neither, really, did Ignatius Oliver.