‘With a little guesswork and a little luck, Ethel. Here you are. . . .’ She fumbled out and handed over her handkerchief in a way she had done dozens of times before. In a crisis, they never had a handkerchief, poor children, and being loaned one, they either returned it immediately all blubbered and wet or failed to return it at all. Ethel was plainly one of the non-returners. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose and tucked the handkerchief into the cardigan sleeve. Then she reared herself up and looked round.

‘Are we in prison?’

The question cheered Miss Mayfield disproportionately. Whatever her experiences had been, Ethel’s wits were unimpaired; there was something very much like the popular idea of a prison cell about the bare stone-walled room.

‘No. We’re in the church tower,’ she said cheerfully. ‘And – the door is barred. We’re quite safe. We just have to wait here till morning.’

‘Church,’ Ethel said. ‘But that . . . I swore they’d never get me there. They did, then. After all I went through, and Sydney, and my dear little owd rabbits!’ She spoke with despair and began to cry again.

A trifle uncertain of where she stood, Miss Mayfield said:

‘Nothing happened, Ethel. Nothing at all. They got you here, but I was waiting. I just took you away and brought you in here.’

Ethel put her hand to her head. Looked down at herself.

‘These ain’t my clothes! And where’s my shoes? Miss! You’re just saying things to make me feel better. They did get me. They did! They did! After all.’

‘They did not get you,’ Miss Mayfield said firmly. ‘You must believe me, Ethel. I’m telling you the truth. I got you first.’ About the clothes, she realized, she must be truthful in order that Ethel should believe what else she said. ‘I gave you my skirt and a spare cardigan I had because when I snatched you away, you were wearing nothing but a wreath of flowers, and even that fell off. I didn’t want you to catch cold.’

‘I’m dead ashamed,’ Ethel said. ‘Dead ashamed.’

‘There’s absolutely no reason to be.’ She put herself in Ethel’s place. ‘Actually, you were wearing a long cloak, and just as that was snatched away, I snatched you away. You see? I don’t think anybody but me ever saw you without clothes, and you mustn’t mind about me. I’ve seen dozens of girls without their clothes on. In my art classes, and then later on when I helped in a hospital . . . It’s absolutely nothing to me, Ethel. Just forget it.’

‘Thass like you to say that,’ Ethel said. ‘You always was the kindest . . . we all said you was the kindest teacher. . . .’