She attempted to fold her arms across her chest, but the pain in her arm stopped her. ‘Why not?’

He nodded his head at their carriage, then, taking her by the elbow, he led her down the corridor, stopping momentarily to look in at each carriage they passed. After the third carriage he released her elbow. ‘Now do you understand?’

Roz shrugged dismissively. ‘Not really. Where are all the parents, or are they following on a different train?’

He pushed his hair back with one hand. ‘There aren’t any parents on this train and they aren’t following either.’ He tried to smile sympathetically. ‘This train is for orphaned children.’

Roz clutched her stomach. ‘But I’m not an orphan!’ she wailed. ‘I don’t belong on this train! Where are they taking us?’

Felix desperately signalled for her to quieten down. ‘Steady on, you don’t want to go broadcasting it. Goodness knows what the Nazis will do if they think you’re a stowaway. As for where they’re taking us? To England!’ He grinned. ‘You’re on the Kindertransport; it’s a rescue mission to get all the Jewish children whose parents can’t afford a sponsor out of the country.’

Roz shook her head, then stopped as pain coursed up her neck. ‘I’m sorry, Felix, I understand this is wonderful news for you, but it’s not for me. I should be with my parents; they must be frantic with worry. I don’t understand why they weren’t with me when I was hit by the car …’ She faltered. ‘The car that hit me?’

‘What about it?’

‘Do you know what sort of car it was?’

He nodded. ‘One of those new Volkswagens … hey!’

Roz was walking away from him, peering into each carriage as she went. Finally she burst into the last one and approached a man with round spectacles resting on the brim of his nose as he read a copy of an English newspaper. He looked up as she approached. ‘Fräulein?’

‘I need to speak to whoever’s in charge,’ Roz said bluntly.

He folded his paper and placed it on the seat next to him. ‘That would be me. I’m Reggie Jones, one of the chaperones. How can I help you?’

Feeling that she had no other choice than to confide in the Englishman, Roz spoke out. ‘There’s been a mistake. I wasn’t hit by the car, I was in it.’

The man placed a finger to his lips and beckoned her to follow him into the corridor, where Felix stood waiting.

He looked at Roz from over the rim of his spectacles. ‘Name?’