7:30 a.m., Sunday, September 8th, 1940

Poor Christopher was now a shadow of his former self when the crater from the blast provided a burial ground for his grandparents. He was starting to feel alone, a hindsight that his once large family was now growing smaller thanks to the war. The destruction reminded him of what his father and uncle had to face and he mentally refused to lose him overseas. Then fear began to settle in when he soon realized that, thanks to Operation Pied Piper, he wasn't going to stay in his own house any longer.

After a ten-minute funeral for Lucy and Vere (along with some of their neighbors who also perished in the bombing), Margaret made the arrangements. It was five pounds per child to take a train to the Lake District via Liverpool, a three-hour trip that was worth being as far away from the bombers as possible.

In his room, which looked cramped from a distance with a wallpaper of tiger lilies, he was packing his belongings into a suitcase and his messenger bag, including the required items such as a gas mask, a parcel and a name tag that was tied to his blazer. At the same time, he took an apple, a can of meat, a can of milk, a chocolate bar, a loaf of bread and some biscuits for the journey into a hamper. Already dressed in a white polo shirt, a black blazer, dark tan short trousers, grey knee socks and chocolate brown shoes, he looked frustrated and sullen as his mother helped him.

"Why did Dad have to go away?" he muttered crossly.

"Because of the war," Margaret told him for the third time in a year.

Now he was feeling rebellious about packing and was making a hash out of it.

"Why do I have to go away anyway?" he asked again. "It's not like they're gonna come back again after what they've done here."

Margaret was stern, but concerned.

"It's for your own safety. The bomb shelter will not be able to last much longer and I don't want you, Hilary or Veronica here if they decide to come back. You saw what happened to Grandma and Grandpa, didn't you?"

Christopher nodded sadly.

"I assure you it will only be a few months and then you'll be back here safe and snug," finished Margaret, sweetly.

Amidst the clutter of the objects on the dresser in his mother's bedroom, Christopher had taken a black and white photograph of a teenage couple dancing at a party while another boy of that age looked on in the background. He showed it to Margaret as soon as he stumbled upon it.

"I like this photo of you and Dad," he said changing his mood. "You both seem happy."

"Ah yes, our wedding dance back in '28 just before you were born. We first met in Jerusalem two years earlier at St. George's School during a summer holiday. I was wearing a nice apple green dress and he was wearing a blue suit that matched the sky of that day. Back then we were just kids, silly, madly in love and stupid to think we could get married right away, but we decided to wait, and then two years later he proposed to me."

Christopher pointed to the boy in the background.

"Who's the other boy?"

"That's Uncle George. He and your father often competed over me and he ended up being a third wheel on our dates. Just before we got married he helped to build a model railway for St Nicolas' Church in Birmingham and I guess that is how he got interested in trains."

From their shared bedroom, Hilary watched as Veronica packed their belongings.

"Christopher's been so sad since Daddy went away to war, and he doesn't even play with us anymore."

"Well maybe we should cheer him up," suggested Veronica. "Any ideas?"

"How about a friendship bracelet?" asked Hilary, sporting a happy face.

"It could work," said Veronica doubtfully. "But we're siblings, we're already friends for life."

Back in his room, Christopher wondered about Margaret, who had finished packing the rest of his belongings.

"Will you at least come with me?" he asked her.

"I have to stay behind and protect the fort," she said, putting her hands on his shoulders. "They're hiring women in the army and I might be able to find a job in a factory or-"

Christopher turned away from her before she could say anything else, but she resumed after five seconds.

"Even if I could go, there might not be enough room on the train."

"I'd rather stay here, but if we're going to meet Dad at the station, then…I can at least give him a proper good bye."

Margaret smiled.

"Now that's the boy I always want to remember how much he loved about travel."

"At least I'll be going by train," Christopher added and his mother left the room to fetch her own bags.

There was still enough money for one way tickets that the family had been saving for the holidays that were interrupted by the war. On their way to Euston Station by cab, it was finally agreed that Veronica, Hilary and Christopher would take separate trains to Oxenholme, specifically with Christopher taking one train that would leave five minutes early before his sisters, who would take the next one. Margaret would be going to Dover an hour later and Wilbert and George would be the last to leave on a train bound for the Strensall Barracks in York.

In the station, a thick sea of legs and knees moving about in all directions, Wilbert and Christopher sat down on a bench and took their time to speak since breakfast. Christopher, placing the messenger's bag on his lap, listened to his father sensing the sadness in his eyes.

"I know you don't want to leave Christopher, but you just have to understand that the city is not the best place to be during a war."

"I know, Daddy. But I'd rather stay here with you."

"You're ten years old. The only place you could have in the army is working as a messenger boy."

The announcer, belonging to a man, came on the loudspeaker.

"Attention passengers, the train leaving for Oxenholme will be departing from Platform 1 in five minutes."

The father and son, hearing this, stood up and Wilbert put his hands on Christopher's shoulders.

"Now, be a good boy and take care of your sisters…and when this war is over, we can go home."

He hugged his son for what seemed like the longest time, then Christopher looked up at his father again, wanting to remember his face should he be killed in battle. But he did not wish to think about it, so he asked positively.

"Will you be here when you come and get me?"

Wilbert hugged him again.

"I will, of course I will. But if you ever truly need me, I'll be in York."

Christopher didn't know if his father was making a hint at changing his mind, and before he could reply, he was out of his arms and heading straight towards the crowd, camouflaged by other children and adults parting and waving goodbye, possibly to never see each other again. Now on his own, he was frightened and he didn't know what to do. He called "Dad?" about only once, but Christopher wasn't sure if he could return to the place where he and Wilbert left the girls and Uncle George, so he hurried over to the nearest platform he could find where children around his age were boarding an LMS train. Some of them were even going with their mothers for an understandable fee while escorts helped the children into their compartments.

Taking a deep breath as everything began to speed up before him, Christopher climbed into the front platform of the brake coach and stepped into the first compartment that was empty. He resignedly sat himself down near the window on the red velvet seat, a bit uncertain at the fact that even if he didn't tell his parents where he was going, they would understand as he and his sisters were going someplace safe away from future bombings. The station was covered by crowds and scattered smoke as Christopher scanned the outside world for any sign of his family or other persons he knew from his school or neighborhood, but all he could see beyond his vantage point was another evacuation special on the next track, possibly the one for Hilary and Veronica. The patch of blue sky above the station's iron roof, covered partially by the smoke from the bombings was a clash of war and peace.

Looking feverishly at his fellow evacuees that he was likely to share a bunk with when he arrived in Oxenholme, Christopher muttered to himself.

"How can they expect me to fit in with all these strangers?"

He never wanted to leave his family in the first place, but the law was the law and he had to obey it. At least he would have his sisters and possibly one of his schoolmates for company once he arrived. The last thing he ever did was fall asleep as the engine let out a cloud of a white steam.

Little did Christopher know that he had gotten himself on the wrong train, but it would soon lead to the greatest moment of his young life.