‘Now which station would that be?’
‘Central. And our train leaves at midnight. Can you tell us how we get there? A short cut, perhaps.’
‘Short cuts, is it? Are you no lost enough already? No, no. Best you stay with me till we get to Argyle Street – you’ll no be able to miss the station then.’
‘Is it far?’ Vi was anxious.
‘Och, no. You’ll soon be there. Just follow me and mind your step.’
They followed him blindly, hands clasped, until he called to them to stop.
‘There now, this is where I leave you. Here’s the Queen Street corner, and you just turn right and keep going full steam ahead. The station’s no far.’
He stood listening to their uncertain footsteps, shaking his head as the night closed in around them.
What was this war coming to and where would it all end when they were taking on lassies to help fight it? Aye, and lassies who couldn’t walk a few hundred yards without getting themselves lost. And as for that train – he shone his torch on the watch at his wrist. Well, they’d missed that, and no mistake. Dearie me, he chuckled out loud, where would it all end?
The policeman was right, Vi brooded. It hadn’t taken them long, but she knew instinctively as they hurried into the hollow gloom of the station that they had missed yet another train.
‘Flippin’ heck,’ she hissed. ‘Twenty past twelve!’
‘Maybe it’s still there,’ Lucinda panted as they retrieved their kit and heaved it, gasping, to platform 8.
‘An’ maybe pigs’ll start flyin’,’ Vi snapped. ‘I mean, miss one train – that’s fair enough; but two?’
‘Bordering on carelessness, I’d say.’ Lucinda nodded soberly. ‘Not to mention what’s going to happen when we get there. If ever we do, that is.’
‘That’s it, then.’ Morosely they regarded the deserted platform. ‘The next train leaves at six for the eight o’clock ferry. Six in the mornin’, that is.’
‘Then I suppose it’s the RTO again,’ Lucinda ventured.
‘You what?’ Vi exploded. ‘Face ’im with the ’ook again? Tell ’im we got lost in the blackout? Oh, that’d make ’is day, that would. “Been to the ale house, ’ave yer?” that’s what he’d say. We’d be in the rattle before you could say wet Nelly!’
‘You’re right. I suppose they only okay your warrant if you’re late through no fault of your own.’ Jane shrugged. ‘Getting lost isn’t exactly an act of God, is it?’
‘No it isn’t. It’s plain bloody stupid.’
‘Then we’re in trouble.’
‘We are. Up to the ear-’oles in it. We’d better think up an excuse. It’ll ’ave to be good, so don’t come up with something like us all bein’ knocked down by a herd of stampedin’ giraffes.’
‘Or attacked by a plague of locusts?’
‘Hey, Jane. Tell yer funny friend that locusts isn’t valid neither,’ Vi retorted, pan-faced. ‘Come on, queen. Get thinkin’.’
‘Then seriously, how about an air raid? No bombs, of course – they could easily check up on bombs – just an alert, so we’d all be forced to find a shelter.’
‘Sounds good. About eleven o’clock, would you say?’
‘That’s it.’ Vi nodded. ‘That’s just about right. And by the time the all clear went, the train had gone. Okay?’
‘But would a train be allowed to leave during an alert?’ Lucinda frowned. ‘Wouldn’t it have to stay in the station?’
‘Ar, hey, Lucinda, whose side are you on?’ Vi demanded.
‘Sorry. Just a thought.’
‘Well, like ’im with the ’ook said, you know what thought did, don’t you? No, it’s got to be an alert, and if we all keep to the same story we might just get away with it. We’ll get it all worked out and one of us’ll do the talkin’, all right? Stick together, eh?’
‘Like the Three Musketeers, you mean?’
‘The three wot? Who the ’ell are they, when they’re at ‘ome?’
‘Were. Three soldiers; figments of fiction.’
‘Imaginary, sort of?’
‘That’s it. Three inseparable friends.’ Lucinda smiled. ‘They stuck together through thick and thin. One for all and all for one. Rather like us, I’d say.’
‘Mmm. Like us.’ The idea pleased Vi and she smiled broadly. ‘Well then, since it was my fault we missed the train again, it’d better be me who does the talkin’ when we get there. You two’ll just have to stand behind me and nod your ’eads.’
‘But Vi –’
‘No buts. I’m the biggest and the oldest. No more to be said. Now, let’s grab that bench. If we stay there all night we can’t miss the next train, can we?’
‘Want to bet?’ Lucinda liked Vi McKeown. Vi had what Goddy would call a defiant set to her jib. It would be really rather nice, she thought as she picked up her cases for the fiftieth time that day, if they could all stay together, though it was hardly likely. They didn’t do nice things like that. They. The faceless ones who spoke with the omnipotent voice of authority and who, for the duration of hostilities, would be obeyed without question.
It would be all right, Jane thought without conviction. Surely it would all come right. It wasn’t that she doubted that the Allies would win – of course they would. But where and when would it all end? Years and years and years it would take.
‘Now then, young Kendal. Don’t look so miserable!’
‘Sorry, Vi. I didn’t mean to. I was just wondering how long it’s going to be before it’s all over and we can go home.’
‘Not long.’ Vi beamed. ‘Now that us three’s in the Navy it’ll be over by Christmas!’
‘Bless you, Vi. I shouldn’t have said that, should I?’
‘You say what you like, queen. It’s still a free country, innit? We’re all a bit fed up, but it’ll pass. It’s like Mam used to tell me. “Nothing lasts, our Vi. Good times nor bad times nothing lasts.” An’ she was right. Tomorrow night we’ll be laughin’ our ’eads off about all this.’
‘Of course we will,’ Lucinda whispered. ‘And let’s all try like mad to stay together, shall we?’
‘Like them Musketeers, you mean?’
‘Like them.’
‘Right, then. All for one! Let’s grab that bench. We’ll soon be on our way. Not long to wait. Five hours’ll soon pass.’
But contrary to Vi McKeown’s shining optimism, that night was the most uncomfortable any of them could remember. Not only were they the longest hours they had ever been called upon to endure, but the coldest.
‘You wouldn’t think it was June.’ Jane shrugged into her greatcoat then spread her raincoat over her knees. ‘I’d give anything for a cup of tea. Anything.’
‘Then let’s all close our eyes and wish like mad for the WVS lady and her trolley to materialize right here in front of us like a dear little fat fairy.’
But of fat fairies bearing hot sweet tea there was never a sign and the fingers