Or was she shy as well, and the uniform let her hide? She’d been perfectly welcoming. I’d have to make an effort to be friendly. I could ask what happened to the German plane after it landed. Perhaps she could take me to see the airfield sometime.

Mrs. Campbell waved toward the armchair, and Jane sat with one of her thunderous backward plunges, letting gravity drop her.

“How cozy this shall be when the fire’s lit,” Jane said.

The open hearth was plugged up and fitted with a gas fire exactly like the one Mummy and I had in the attic at Number 88 Gibraltar Road.

“We’re lucky to have town gas and electricity,” Mrs. Campbell said. “They brought it to the village the same time as the aerodrome, five years ago, when they stepped up Royal Air Force training here. I don’t allow the rooms heated before three p.m. and there’s no hot water before six. You’ve got your own gas meter for the fire—it only takes shilling coins.”

“We had one like it in London,” I said.

“Well, then you’ll know to treat it respectfully. If you don’t top up the money, the gas cuts off, and the fire will go out. Then if you forget to turn off the gas tap, next time you put a coin in, the room will fill with gas until you turn off the tap or light the fire again. I don’t want any explosions! It takes another shilling every two or three days if you’re careful. And don’t stuff it full of coins before the collection man comes to reset the meter—once the coin box is full you can’t get more gas until he empties it.”

“Yes, that’s how ours at home worked,” I said.

“Well, be careful.” She slipped a silver shilling into the meter. “Here’s a bob to start you off. Don’t turn it on until three o’clock. If you want a fire before then, you’ll have to sit in the bar.”

Oh, what a grouch.

But Jane caught my eye like a naughty child. I was sure she was trying to make me laugh. I looked away quickly.

I did like Jane.

How lucky I am to like her, I thought as we unpacked. We each got a windowsill to stack our books in; she had as many as I did.

“I shall look forward to reading yours,” she said. “I’m tired to death of my own.”

Room Number Five, the Limehouse, I realized, wasn’t a big change from her room in the alien detainment camp. Apart from the radio, of course. There was a bit more space, but now there were two of us. She’d had a bed to herself before. Now she had to share with me.