But the platform was jammed, and the doors were already closing. “Wait!” she cried, but it was too late. I’ll have to wait for the next one, she thought, working her way out to the edge so she could hand the infant to the guard as soon as the doors opened.

It had been snuffling, but as soon as Eileen stood still, it set up a howl again. “Shh,” Eileen said. “You’re going to take a nice train ride. Would you like that?”

The baby howled louder.

“You’re going to go on a nice train, and then have some nice milk and biscuits.”

“If the train comes,” the old man next to her said. “They’re saying there’s been a disruption in service.”

“A disruption?” Eileen peered down the track into the tunnel, looking for an engine light in the blackness. Nothing.

This is the story of my life, she thought, standing on platforms waiting for trains which never come, with children who don’t want to go on them.

“That infant should be in bed,” the old man said disapprovingly.

“You’re quite right.” She looked at him consideringly, but he looked frail. And ill-tempered. “I’ll speak to Hitler about it,” she said, and noticed that people waiting had perked up and were looking down the track. She still couldn’t see a light, but there was a faint rumble, and a gust of air caught the skirt of her coat and blew it against her.

“Can you see it?” she turned to ask the old man. The baby gave a sudden ear-splitting shriek and launched herself out of Eileen’s arms.

“Don’t—” Eileen gasped, lunging for it.

“Maaah!” the baby shrieked, its little arms outstretched, and Eileen looked up the platform.

A woman was running toward them, her arms outstretched, too, stumbling over the shelterers sitting against the wall. Her face and arms were smeared with soot, and there was a nasty-looking gash on her cheek, but her face was alight with joy.

“Oh, my darling!” she sobbed, pushing past the old man, nearly knocking him down.

She snatched the baby out of Eileen’s arms and hugged it to her. “I thought I’d never see you again, and here you are! Are you all right?” she said, holding the baby out to look at it. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

“It’s fine,” Eileen said. “Only a bit frightened.”

“The bomb knocked you out of my arms, and I couldn’t find you, and the fire … I thought …”

“I need to get to the train,” the old man said, and Eileen was surprised to see that it had pulled in.

He pushed past her to the opening doors.

“Mind the gap,” the guard Eileen had intended to give the baby to said, and passengers began to get off, buffeting mother and baby, but neither of them noticed.

The baby gurgled happily and the mother cooed, “Mummy’s been looking for you everywhere.”

One of the passengers crashed into Eileen, hurrying to get past. “Sorry,” he muttered, and darted past her, so quickly he was halfway to the end of the platform before she realized who it was. John Bartholomew.