Once they were all in her room, the tall lady – Miss Trent – lit the gas fire and went across to a cupboard, producing from its depths a large tin of Heinz vegetable soup. She poured the soup into a pan, lit the Primus stove and returned to the cupboard to bring out four bowls and a loaf of bread. ‘I think we all need something warm after our adventure,’ she said cheerfully. ‘And now, Jimmy, I think you should explain to your sister exactly what happened to you, and then Maureen can tell us how she came to be out in the middle of the night when she was supposed to be in bed and asleep in Major Williams’s house.’

Chapter 6

WHEN THE VARIOUS stories had all been told, Mo, as well as Jimmy, knew they had found two new good friends.

‘Lucky for us that I blundered into Miss Trent’s back yard, and she realised that I was in desperate need of help, and not simply searching for someone to buy my holly,’ Jimmy told his sister impressively. ‘Heaven knows what Cyril would have done if he’d caught me.’

‘And lucky for all of us that Mr Bloggs is a Salvationist and knew both the major’s name and his address,’ Miss Trent put in. ‘Of course we went there first, Mo, in case you were sound asleep and not worried at all, but you had already left. The Williamses were very concerned, of course, but Jimmy assured them he had a pretty good idea of where we were likely to find you, and Mr Bloggs promised to go back tomorrow and tell them how we got on. Oh yes, luck has been on our side tonight, but we mustn’t assume that we’re safe, or that luck will always be with the righteous – by which I mean you Trewins, of course.’ She glanced at the two children, and then at the railway worker. ‘You note I say we and not you, because I’m sure Mr Bloggs will agree that we’re on your side, and will do everything we can to help you.’

‘Of course,’ Frank said, but he sounded uneasy. ‘Only I shan’t be much use to anyone after the holiday because I’ll be back on the engine, learning the road from Liverpool to Manchester.’

Mo had been sitting on the edge of Miss Trent’s bed, eyes half closed and on the verge of sleep, but at Frank’s words her eyes shot open and she stared across at him. ‘Road? But I always thought trains ran on rails!’ She eyed the young man seated opposite doubtfully. ‘Ain’t that right? That puffer-trains run on rails?’

Frank grinned. ‘I’m what you might call apprenticed to the railways,’ he explained. ‘One day I’ll be an engine driver, if I pass all my exams and learn the roads – which is just another word for rails, really – but until then I’m only a fireman. Do you understand, queen?’

‘Ye-es,’ Mo said slowly. ‘So you won’t be able to look after us except when your engine brings you back to Liverpool.’ She twisted round towards the older woman. ‘What about you, Miss Trent?’