Despite the pain of separation, there must truly be considerable risk if they were going to the effort to remove so many children. Certainly it was far better than keeping them here, where they were under the constant threat of being bombed.

Though Grace was not a mother, she hoped to become one someday. So it was that every stricken visage drove into her heart the sacrifice these women were making to ensure their children remained safe.

As Grace walked on in her stunned state, she came upon the mass of them congregated at the entrance to Farringdon Station where another stream of children came from the opposite direction. Hundreds, if not thousands.

Many mothers would have empty arms this night.

A heaviness lay in Grace’s chest for those women and the little ones they had to send off to another’s care. She quickened her pace, unable to endure the sight any longer.

She all but threw herself into the bookshop, earning her a sharp look from Mr. Evans upon her arrival. “Has the war already started?” he asked dryly and returned his focus to the book in front of him.

“It might as well have.” Grace glanced out to the street as a mother hastened her two young children in the direction of the tube station. “The children are all being sent away.”

He hummed in distracted agreement.

She peered up to the sky, seeking the large silver objects. “And those balloons—”

“Barrage balloons.”

She turned back to him. “What on earth are those?”

Mr. Evans sighed without patience and set his book down. “They’re affixed to steel cables and prevent aircraft from flying too low. They’re there for our protection.”

“So they can’t bomb us then?” Grace asked hopefully.

Mr. Evans snorted. “Oh, they can bomb us well enough. The balloons prevented it in the Great War when planes couldn’t fly as high, but now at least it forces them up into the range of the anti-aircraft guns.”

Chills prickled over Grace’s skin. She wanted to ask more questions, but he’d already lifted his book and resumed reading. Few customers entered the store that day. It was easy to see why when the children were being shipped off, the men were leaving for war and all the mothers were left behind with their heavy sorrow.

Grace had thought to try organizing the books, but could not clear the image of those children from her mind. Not when there had been so very many of them. Not when their mothers had been so strong in the face of what they must do to have their children protected.

She recalled the time her mother had gone to visit Mrs. Weatherford once when she was a child. Though Grace had stayed with Viv’s family for the week, she still remembered how missing her mother had left her feeling bereft. And that had been only a week.

Those poor children.