They searched for their mummy everywhere. Through the alleys and the streets, through letterbox slits in front doors and through musty, dirty pubs, but their mummy was nowhere to be found.
It was harder to try and find her when the nice men in white coats brought them back to the hospital but they tried their best. They asked the women who passed through the ward, the nice ones who smiled awkwardly and didn't always run away screaming, but none of them were their mummy.
Soon the trickle of people began to slow. No more not-mummies passing through, no more kind men in white coats asking them questions they were too scared to answer.
They just wanted their mummy. Mummy would protect them. She would make them feel safe and loved. If only they could find her. If only they could find their mummy.
They were alone for a time.
'Are you my mummy?'
There was a woman standing in the ward. She was tall and had straw-coloured hair pinned back from her pale face. Her clothes were a little unusual but they liked her. She seemed nice.
They got out of bed and walked towards her. She leapt back; there were two men with her and one of them stepped forward, shielding her protectively.
'Are you my mummy?'
She looked scared but she had only flinched away a little, and she hadn't shrieked. They shuffled forward hopefully.
'Don't let them touch you'
They pressed in, packing into a half circle, jostling themselves gently to make room. Eyes through eyes through eyes reflected each other, looking through the warped and foggy glass of the gas mask until the woman filled their view.
'What happens if they touch us?'
Almost there. Almost. They shuffled closer.
'You're looking at it'
They were going to hold out a pleading hand to Mummy when the man stepped forward. He loomed angrily at them through the mask's lenses.
'Go to your room'
They froze. That was a Mummy tone of voice. It was the tone of voice that Nancy used whenever she said that they had done something naughty.
'Go to your room'
They hung their head, ashamed. They tried their best to look as sorry and apologetic as possible.
'I mean it. I am very, very angry with you, I'm very, very cross!'
Mummy? Don't be angry with us Mummy. Oh please Mummy. Please don't be cross. We're sorry.
'Go. To. Your. ROOM!'
They would have started crying if they had been able to make tears. They didn't like it when people were shouting, especially Mummy. They must have done something very, very bad.
They shuffled back to their bed and settled beneath the covers as obediently as possible.
Contain Mummy!
They were up on their feet and moving in a moment, marching down the corridor towards the hospital's front hall. They tramped along the dark street cresting the hill that lead down to the edge of the bomb site.
They were good at marching. They'd practised while watching the army men doing drills in the local park. Good little soldiers, dashing back and forth.
Nancy was ahead of them, standing in the middle of the crash site. The blonde woman was with her. They looked nervous.
Hold. Wait for more orders.
They held, silently guarding the line while they waited for Him. He had been a part of them before but the urge which had driven them to mass next to the chain link fence had also given them the unusual sensation that He was Other. He is In Charge.
Mummy was crying again. They wanted to go to her, to try and comfort her, but He hadn't arrived yet so they stayed.
'Muu-mmy'
Bombs fell, hitting a few of them straggling behind. They held their position and waited, parting in small waves as He walked through them to reach the front of the group.
He raised his hands; there was an ear-splitting crunch as He broke the padlocked chain on the gate, and he pushed his way inside.
'Mummy'
The question, the burning question. Always the same, repeating endlessly. He would get an answer for Them.
'Are you my mummy?'
Nancy had stopped crying which was good. She was slowly walking towards Him, wiping her face with the back of her hand.
'Are you my mummy?'
He had stopped, Nancy almost directly in front of him. They waited, butterflies flitting nervously in Their stomach. They wanted answers. They needed to know where Their mummy was. She was their world.
'Are you my mummy?'
'Yes' Nancy stood, staring down at Him. 'Yes, I am your mummy'
'Mummy?'
Hope blossomed, chasing the butterflies away.
'I'm here'
'Are you my mummy?'
Nancy kneeled down, face to face with Him.
'I'm here'
'Are you my mummy?'
'Yes'
They heard the words clearly but it seemed as though Nancy was speaking a different language. A language They only quarter understood and couldn't quite get a grip on.
'Are you my mummy?'
Frustration. They felt out of sorts, agitated by the lack of answers. They wanted more. They needed it.
'I am your mummy. I will always be your mummy. I'm so sorry'
Nancy was hugging Him, and they felt the warmth through the connection. It felt wonderful, safe and comforting. It felt even better when the bright cloud of fireflies begun buzzing around Him.
'I am so, so sorry'
Nothing could have pried Him from Nancy, and They hoped that no one would try. They felt strangely prickly, like the hairs all over their body were standing on end.
Pinpricks of light filled Their field of vision as the tiny fireflies danced around His head. They seemed to be talking to each other; the unintelligible buzz blocking out all background noise sounded like curious, susurrus chatter.
Then everything snapped black.
They could still feel each other, but They were alone in the darkness. Panic set in. Where was He? Where was Nancy?
Where is my Mummy?
Light.
A cloud of light far away, growing larger, and seemingly coming at them from the end of a narrow tunnel. If They had been aware They would have realised that the 'tunnel' was just the way that the gas mask was framing Their eyes. But They weren't, and They watched with impassive interest as the cloud washed over Them.
Thomas came to lying face down in gravel. As he got unsteadily to his feet and looked about, it took a few moments to fully register where he was.
The last thing he remembered was crouching down and opening Mr Grossman's front door. Now he appeared to be standing under an open night sky, in the middle of a semi-fenced area of Limehouse Station, with an assortment of uniformed soldiers and civilians in pyjamas milling around.
As he helped the other people around him up, he heard an unfamiliar voice filter through the chatter.
'…and I don't blame it one bit. These are your patients. All better now.'
'Yes, yes, so it seems,' Thomas gently eased his way through the crowd until he spotted the back of a slightly shabby white lab coat.
'They also seem to be standing around in a disused railway station; is there any particular reason for that?'
The man standing in front of Doctor Constantine shrugged glibly. 'Yeah, well, you know, cut backs.' He was younger than the doctor but older than Thomas; late thirties to early forties, with a bald head and a thick Northern accent. He was wearing what vaguely resembled a German U-boat captain's leather jacket, and jeans, and was beaming proudly.
'Listen,' the man continued, growing serious, 'Whatever was wrong with them in the past, you're probably going to find that they're cured. Just tell them what a great doctor you are,' the man smiled again, 'Don't make a big thing of it. Okay?'
Thomas opened his mouth to ask the stranger what the hell was going on but the man simply flashed him a grin, winked mischievously, and dashed away.
Sighing, Thomas clamped a hand down on Constantine's shoulder, making him jump.
'Oh, Thomas! Goodness!'
'Doctor, what's-'
'Doctor Constantine!' A little old lady elbowed her way past Thomas, accidently smacking his shin with her walking stick as she went. He blanched when he remembered where he knew her from; he'd pulled her from the wreckage of a cab accident, delirious and definitely missing one of the two legs she was hobbling on.
'Mrs Harcourt!' Constantine exclaimed, 'How much better you're looking!'
'My leg's grown back!' She gestured towards the minor miracle on the lower half of her body. 'When I come to the 'ospital I 'ad one leg!'
'Well, there is a war on,' said Constantine evenly, 'Is it possible you miscounted?'
Turning away to hide his grin, Thomas spotted two familiar figures barrelling towards him.
'Jamie!'
The little boy let go of Nancy's hand and wrapped his arms around Thomas's waist in a bear hug. He hugged him back then knelt, patting Jamie down to check for injuries.
'All better now!' Nancy beamed. Jamie flopped back to her and held onto her arm. 'I found my Mummy!' he said. Thomas looked at the pair and smiled. 'Yes you did. Now come on, let's get out of here before any more bombs hit!'
'Okay' said Jamie. He helped Nancy to herd some of the remaining patients over the rise while Thomas brought up the rear. As they began to do so, the stranger's voice boomed out from the other side of the abandoned station.
'Right! You lot! Lots to do! Beat the Germans, save the world; don't forget the welfare state!'
'That's the Doctor' said Nancy, pointing back at the man perched atop what looked like some sort of unexploded incendiary device. Thomas made to go and help him disarm it but Nancy gripped him firmly by the elbow and steered him away.
'No, no. Trust me, 'e's got this.' Thomas dragged his heels, lagging, uncertain. Nancy held up her other hand which was clasped around her son's. ''e fixed Jamie, 'e can get rid of a bomb. I'll explain it all later. Now come on.'
'Gift horses' Thomas muttered under his breath, as he gave the man one last, long look before trudging reluctantly up over the hill. He sprinted back when there was a cacophonous explosion five minutes later but he stopped panicking when he saw a man-shaped figure running away into the darkness.