CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Cafe car in a rattling passenger train, English Countryside, early October, 1940...
"Are we there yet?" the winsome nearly breathless seven year old boy asked Jonathan.
Jonathan, for his part, paused with a cup of tea halfway to his mouth. He smiled at the child. Ah, youth! David McClure reminded Jonathan of Alex at seven. And at eight, at nine and at eighteen years old.
He sipped his tea, heavily laden with sugar, and set his tea cup down on the table. The train rattled on the tracks but the sturdy white ceramic cup remained solidly steady. "We'll be in Cardiff in about an hour." He adjusted his thick plaid winter coat. The train's heating wasn't working well and there was a chill in the cafe car.
"Are you going to come with us to Ireland?" David asked, brushing his dark hair out of his brown eyes.
"Part of the way, yes."
"How much is part way?"
"I'll be introducing each group of children to the farmers you'll be living with."
"Who am I going to be living with?"
"You, Irene Dunne, Charles Whiting and Ada Ableson will be lodging with the Cashmans."
"What do they do?"
"They farm the land."
"What do they farm?"
Now Jonathan was sure that Evie had had a secret pregnancy and produced this child so strikingly in temperament like a young Alex. "They farm things," Jonathan waved his hand in the air, trying to stall for time, then picked up his tea cup and sipping again.
"What kind of things? Things like shoelaces and sugar?"
"Mmmm, more like potatoes and wheat. Carrots and cows," he sipped his tea again before setting his cup down. The tea inside the cup swirled around as the train wheels clanged against the tracks.
"Cows are farmed?"
Jonathan chuckled. "No, cows are raised. I meant the farm will have cows."
"And dogs? I lost my dog on the 7th," David said, crawling up on the seat across from Jonathan.
"What was your dog's name?"
"Cuppy."
"Cuppy?"
David nodded sadly. "Cuppy. When she was a puppy, my little sister named her Buttercup. We called her Cuppy for short."
Jonathan noticed the verb tense and said gently, "They might have more than a few dogs on the farm. Cows need to be herded and border collies are bred to herd animals."
David brightened considerably. "Can I have some tea?"
Jonathan nodded, and reached to his side. Opening up the picnic basket, he took out a large metal flask which contained his store of tea. Pulling out a clean cup and setting it on the table, he opened the flask. David's eyes watched as the hot golden brown liquid poured into the cup.
"Can I have some sugar?" the boy asked hopefully, his tongue coming out involuntarily and licking his lips.
Jonathan smiled and held his finger to his lips. "Shhhhh. As a matter of fact, I do have some sugar. Just a bit here, you see, to make the tea sweet. No milk though. Don't tell the others."
"I don't like my tea with milk. I'd rather have sugar, please," David said, smiling in anticipation as Jonathan lifted out a small metal lidded container. Sugar was being rationed. Unscrewing the lid, Jonathan poured a bit of sugar in the tea.
"Will that be enough sugar?" he asked David, and the boy nodded as Jonathan picked up a spoon.
"You don't need to stir it. The jolting of the train will do that," David said as he pulled the warm cup towards him and watched the liquid swirl around the cup.
Jonathan smiled as David picked up the cup and sipped. "This is good tea! Did your mummy make this?" David asked.
"Oh no. My sister made my tea."
"My sister died," David responded, and imitated Jonathan by sipping his tea again.
"I'm sorry to hear your sister died. How old was she?"
"Five. She died in July." David sipped his tea again. "She had a brain tumour."
"Not a very nice thing to have in the brain."
"No. She didn't like the tumour at all. It made her go blind the last few months of her life," David said, sounding very much like a grown up.
"Blind is no good," Jonathan replied, also sipping his tea.
"Do you think we'll go to school in Ireland?" the child asked, changing the subject.
"Yes. It's a small village, but they have a school."
"How big is the school?"
"Not very big. There's about sixty children attending."
"That's the size of my class in my school. Our school is much bigger than theirs."
"The Cashmans live in a small village."
"That's true. Small villages wouldn't have big schools. Will we have to live there long?"
"I'm not sure. War is unpredictable."
"Will I be able to send letters to my parents?"
"Every week. Someone will pick up the letters and bring them over to England."
"Goody!" David said as the train lurched to a sudden stop. "What's wrong?" the child's voice, full of terror, asked.
"Stay here," Jonathan said and started to get up but a train conductor passing through the cafe car waved for Jonathan to sit back down.
"There's a cow in the middle of the tracks up ahead and we're trying to move it off. No worries," the conductor said, tipping his hat, moving between the tables in the cafe car and trying to reassure the other passengers.
"Whew! I thought it was a bomber plane."
"I wouldn't like to see any more bomber planes," Jonathan commented..
"Bomber planes are bad," David agreed. "You're going to go back for more kids to bring to Ireland?"
"Yes. My sister and brother in law are helping to organize the evacuation. This is my third time accompanying kids to the countryside."
"Are you going to accompany Michael Hall to America?"
Jonathan looked surprised. "I don't believe so. Who is Michael?"
"My neighbor. His parents were killed on the 7th but he has an aunt who lives in California."
"California is sunny, and warm."
"He said he'll be living in a place called Santa Barbara."
"Don't believe I've heard of that city."
"It's on the coast. I looked it up in the world atlas."
"You're a smart kid. Would you like a bit more tea?"
"Yes, please. And sugar?" he asked, and Jonathan nodded. "The others don't know what they're missing!" David exclaimed as he sipped his second cup of tea laced with sugar.
"Where are the other children who are with you?" Jonathan asked David, filling his own cup with more hot tea.
David put his cup down on the table and tried to look serious but his twinkling eyes gave him away. "We're playing a game of hide and seek. Irene's "it". I'm hiding in the cafe car."
Jonathan laughed as the train engineer chose that moment to start the train. "Here we go!" David said. "You know, I've never been on a train ride before." The train lurching forward suddenly gave the tea a reason to spill over the sides of the two cups on the table.
"Never?" Jonathan asked as he took a napkin and dabbed the spilled tea up.
"Never. I'm kind of sad to be leaving my parents. But I am riding on a train!" David said, being excited on his first train ride despite his losses: the losses of his parents, his sister and Cuppy. David looked up at Jonathan, picked up his tea cup, sipped his tea, then said, "My parents are going to be spies."
Jonathan was surprised. "Really?"
"Really. They're going off and gather information and use spy gadgets."
"You mustn't tell other people. That could get your parents in trouble," Jonathan observed. And David's mouth pursed. "But I won't tell," he promised David.
"Promise? I want to go home to my parents after the war."
"I promise."
When he was finished wiping up the spilled tea, he put the napkin on the table and said, "Do you know what I have for you and your friends?"
"Yes I do. You're going to give us a present." When Jonathan looked surprised, David explained, "Word's already gone around London about the Carnahan O'Connell's giving presents to the kids who are going to the country: games and clothes and chocolates and books."
"Well, you have one up on me then."
"What are you going to give us?" David asked slyly.
"You'll have to wait and see but you'll like your presents," Jonathan's white teeth flashed at David.
"Really? Truly?" David was excited, like all children expecting a gift, despite knowing what he and his friends would be receiving. "Can I see them?"
"Sure thing. Why don't we finish up our tea and I'll show you."
"Yippee!" David slurped the last of his tea before handing his cup to Jonathan. "I'll meet you at our seats!" he called over his shoulder as he slid off the chair and dashed down the aisle. Other passengers smiled at the young boy, knowing that despite his pain, a child's enthusiasm can be refueled for a short time.
Wiping the inside of the cups with the napkin, Jonathan placed the cups in the picnic basket and picked up the picnic basket, and followed David.
By the time he returned to the seats where he and the four children who were going to be foster siblings for the duration of the war were already gathered around Jonathan's luggage, jumping in their shoes and smiling.
"We didn't want to open your luggage, sir," a red-haired Irene told Jonathan as he put the picnic basket on the overhead rack.
"We thought that would be rather rude," Charles and Ada said together. They looked at each other and giggled.
"Now, let's see what we got for you here," Jonathan said as he opened the suitcase containing the presents for the Cashman's foster kids. "You weren't supposed to get these until you arrive at the farm but I don't see any problem giving them now. Here, Irene. This is for you, and Ada, this one's for you. Charles, you get this one and for you, David, this one here." Jonathan smiled as the kids opened their presents.
"Chocolates!" Ada cried, her eyes tearing up. "I haven't had chocolates in such a long time!"
"I got chocolates, and a game!" Charles said, his eyes lighting up.
"I got card games and chocolates too!" Irene said. At nine, she was the oldest of the dozen children whom Jonathan was escorting to various farms in Ireland this time around.
"I got the same thing!" David said, then added, "and I got socks! Dig deeper," he instructed the other kids who followed his instruction and there, nestled in the bottom of the boxes, were six pairs of thick heavy socks for each child.
"We're going to be the most popular kids in the village!" eight year old Ada said, swinging her blonde braids and twirling around so her pleated plaid skirt flared and showed a bit of her knickers. Irene blushed a bit and giggled behind her hand.
"No! The most popular kids in the county!" Charles put in. He was a sturdy child, small for his age, which was seven, like David, but with dark blue eyes and dark brown hair. He had a sturdy tweed coat about three sizes too big for him, but with clothes already being rationed, people were purchasing or trading for children's clothes.
"In Ireland!" David said authoritatively said. "We have games and chocolates and new socks. I'm going to save my chocolates," he indicated with a nod of his head as Irene started to unwrap one of her chocolate bars. She looked guilty, then nodded her head and put her chocolates back into the box.
"Chocolate keeps well, even if it goes a little gray after a few months," Jonathan informed the kids.
"Grey chocolate won't hurt us?" David wanted to know.
"Not at all," Jonathan replied. "Now why don't you put your presents away and go find the other kids so they may have their presents?"
"All right!" David said as the four kids put their presents into their own suitcases but leaving out one of the card games. The four of them went off to find the other children, which shouldn't be hard to do as there were only six passenger cars.
Jonathan sat down. Then he stood up again, and took down two other pieces of luggage from the overhead rack. He could hear the rest of the children running through the train. Evidently David and the others had done what children naturally do: tattle.
He smiled as a dozen children raced up the aisle towards him. Soon, he found himself surrounded by a giggling bunch of children who oohed and ahhhed over their presents. Their joy at receiving presents, despite their leaving London and being transported to a foreign country, helped him with his own grief. He missed Tallulah greatly.
When the children were settled down with their presents, playing what looked to become an intense card game of Old Maid, Jonathan went back to the cafe car with his writing supplies.
He wanted to write his sister again. He hadn't seen his sister or her family many times since late August. He'd been on a combination holiday and antique buying expedition to Liverpool with Tallulah. The two had holed up in Manchester the day the blitzkreig started.
After making their way from Manchester to London by car, Jonathan had immediately volunteered to chaperone the children who were going to safer environs in Ireland. He'd left London the very day he'd arrived from Manchester with Tallulah and had perhaps an hour at most with his sister. Most of the children were true city children, having never seen a farm, or a cow, for that matter.
The train rattled on its tracks and Jonathan hoped a bomb hadn't been dropped somewhere on the tracks behind them. He sat down at the same table he and David had vacated a short time ago, took out his writing supplies and laid out a small stack of writing paper. A woman came by and placed a cup of tea on the table in front of him.
"Here you go, a cuppa. It's English Breakfast," she said, smiling. "We'd like to thank you and your sister for the food donations."
"Thank you. It's never a problem," Jonathan looked up and smiled back. The woman moved on to the next table, where an elderly gentlemen wearing a well made tweed coat was sitting.
He tried to start his latest letter to his sister, knowing she'd receive the letters in odd order; the three previous letters he'd sent hadn't yet arrived in London. Or maybe they had and hadn't made their way to the Carnahan O'Connells.
Jonathan had some big news to relay to his sister. But he found himself staring out the window at the English countryside rolling along, smiling to himself at the big news he'd received just before the train had left the train station.
Cafe car in a rattling passenger train, English Countryside, early October, 1940...
"Are we there yet?" the winsome nearly breathless seven year old boy asked Jonathan.
Jonathan, for his part, paused with a cup of tea halfway to his mouth. He smiled at the child. Ah, youth! David McClure reminded Jonathan of Alex at seven. And at eight, at nine and at eighteen years old.
He sipped his tea, heavily laden with sugar, and set his tea cup down on the table. The train rattled on the tracks but the sturdy white ceramic cup remained solidly steady. "We'll be in Cardiff in about an hour." He adjusted his thick plaid winter coat. The train's heating wasn't working well and there was a chill in the cafe car.
"Are you going to come with us to Ireland?" David asked, brushing his dark hair out of his brown eyes.
"Part of the way, yes."
"How much is part way?"
"I'll be introducing each group of children to the farmers you'll be living with."
"Who am I going to be living with?"
"You, Irene Dunne, Charles Whiting and Ada Ableson will be lodging with the Cashmans."
"What do they do?"
"They farm the land."
"What do they farm?"
Now Jonathan was sure that Evie had had a secret pregnancy and produced this child so strikingly in temperament like a young Alex. "They farm things," Jonathan waved his hand in the air, trying to stall for time, then picked up his tea cup and sipping again.
"What kind of things? Things like shoelaces and sugar?"
"Mmmm, more like potatoes and wheat. Carrots and cows," he sipped his tea again before setting his cup down. The tea inside the cup swirled around as the train wheels clanged against the tracks.
"Cows are farmed?"
Jonathan chuckled. "No, cows are raised. I meant the farm will have cows."
"And dogs? I lost my dog on the 7th," David said, crawling up on the seat across from Jonathan.
"What was your dog's name?"
"Cuppy."
"Cuppy?"
David nodded sadly. "Cuppy. When she was a puppy, my little sister named her Buttercup. We called her Cuppy for short."
Jonathan noticed the verb tense and said gently, "They might have more than a few dogs on the farm. Cows need to be herded and border collies are bred to herd animals."
David brightened considerably. "Can I have some tea?"
Jonathan nodded, and reached to his side. Opening up the picnic basket, he took out a large metal flask which contained his store of tea. Pulling out a clean cup and setting it on the table, he opened the flask. David's eyes watched as the hot golden brown liquid poured into the cup.
"Can I have some sugar?" the boy asked hopefully, his tongue coming out involuntarily and licking his lips.
Jonathan smiled and held his finger to his lips. "Shhhhh. As a matter of fact, I do have some sugar. Just a bit here, you see, to make the tea sweet. No milk though. Don't tell the others."
"I don't like my tea with milk. I'd rather have sugar, please," David said, smiling in anticipation as Jonathan lifted out a small metal lidded container. Sugar was being rationed. Unscrewing the lid, Jonathan poured a bit of sugar in the tea.
"Will that be enough sugar?" he asked David, and the boy nodded as Jonathan picked up a spoon.
"You don't need to stir it. The jolting of the train will do that," David said as he pulled the warm cup towards him and watched the liquid swirl around the cup.
Jonathan smiled as David picked up the cup and sipped. "This is good tea! Did your mummy make this?" David asked.
"Oh no. My sister made my tea."
"My sister died," David responded, and imitated Jonathan by sipping his tea again.
"I'm sorry to hear your sister died. How old was she?"
"Five. She died in July." David sipped his tea again. "She had a brain tumour."
"Not a very nice thing to have in the brain."
"No. She didn't like the tumour at all. It made her go blind the last few months of her life," David said, sounding very much like a grown up.
"Blind is no good," Jonathan replied, also sipping his tea.
"Do you think we'll go to school in Ireland?" the child asked, changing the subject.
"Yes. It's a small village, but they have a school."
"How big is the school?"
"Not very big. There's about sixty children attending."
"That's the size of my class in my school. Our school is much bigger than theirs."
"The Cashmans live in a small village."
"That's true. Small villages wouldn't have big schools. Will we have to live there long?"
"I'm not sure. War is unpredictable."
"Will I be able to send letters to my parents?"
"Every week. Someone will pick up the letters and bring them over to England."
"Goody!" David said as the train lurched to a sudden stop. "What's wrong?" the child's voice, full of terror, asked.
"Stay here," Jonathan said and started to get up but a train conductor passing through the cafe car waved for Jonathan to sit back down.
"There's a cow in the middle of the tracks up ahead and we're trying to move it off. No worries," the conductor said, tipping his hat, moving between the tables in the cafe car and trying to reassure the other passengers.
"Whew! I thought it was a bomber plane."
"I wouldn't like to see any more bomber planes," Jonathan commented..
"Bomber planes are bad," David agreed. "You're going to go back for more kids to bring to Ireland?"
"Yes. My sister and brother in law are helping to organize the evacuation. This is my third time accompanying kids to the countryside."
"Are you going to accompany Michael Hall to America?"
Jonathan looked surprised. "I don't believe so. Who is Michael?"
"My neighbor. His parents were killed on the 7th but he has an aunt who lives in California."
"California is sunny, and warm."
"He said he'll be living in a place called Santa Barbara."
"Don't believe I've heard of that city."
"It's on the coast. I looked it up in the world atlas."
"You're a smart kid. Would you like a bit more tea?"
"Yes, please. And sugar?" he asked, and Jonathan nodded. "The others don't know what they're missing!" David exclaimed as he sipped his second cup of tea laced with sugar.
"Where are the other children who are with you?" Jonathan asked David, filling his own cup with more hot tea.
David put his cup down on the table and tried to look serious but his twinkling eyes gave him away. "We're playing a game of hide and seek. Irene's "it". I'm hiding in the cafe car."
Jonathan laughed as the train engineer chose that moment to start the train. "Here we go!" David said. "You know, I've never been on a train ride before." The train lurching forward suddenly gave the tea a reason to spill over the sides of the two cups on the table.
"Never?" Jonathan asked as he took a napkin and dabbed the spilled tea up.
"Never. I'm kind of sad to be leaving my parents. But I am riding on a train!" David said, being excited on his first train ride despite his losses: the losses of his parents, his sister and Cuppy. David looked up at Jonathan, picked up his tea cup, sipped his tea, then said, "My parents are going to be spies."
Jonathan was surprised. "Really?"
"Really. They're going off and gather information and use spy gadgets."
"You mustn't tell other people. That could get your parents in trouble," Jonathan observed. And David's mouth pursed. "But I won't tell," he promised David.
"Promise? I want to go home to my parents after the war."
"I promise."
When he was finished wiping up the spilled tea, he put the napkin on the table and said, "Do you know what I have for you and your friends?"
"Yes I do. You're going to give us a present." When Jonathan looked surprised, David explained, "Word's already gone around London about the Carnahan O'Connell's giving presents to the kids who are going to the country: games and clothes and chocolates and books."
"Well, you have one up on me then."
"What are you going to give us?" David asked slyly.
"You'll have to wait and see but you'll like your presents," Jonathan's white teeth flashed at David.
"Really? Truly?" David was excited, like all children expecting a gift, despite knowing what he and his friends would be receiving. "Can I see them?"
"Sure thing. Why don't we finish up our tea and I'll show you."
"Yippee!" David slurped the last of his tea before handing his cup to Jonathan. "I'll meet you at our seats!" he called over his shoulder as he slid off the chair and dashed down the aisle. Other passengers smiled at the young boy, knowing that despite his pain, a child's enthusiasm can be refueled for a short time.
Wiping the inside of the cups with the napkin, Jonathan placed the cups in the picnic basket and picked up the picnic basket, and followed David.
By the time he returned to the seats where he and the four children who were going to be foster siblings for the duration of the war were already gathered around Jonathan's luggage, jumping in their shoes and smiling.
"We didn't want to open your luggage, sir," a red-haired Irene told Jonathan as he put the picnic basket on the overhead rack.
"We thought that would be rather rude," Charles and Ada said together. They looked at each other and giggled.
"Now, let's see what we got for you here," Jonathan said as he opened the suitcase containing the presents for the Cashman's foster kids. "You weren't supposed to get these until you arrive at the farm but I don't see any problem giving them now. Here, Irene. This is for you, and Ada, this one's for you. Charles, you get this one and for you, David, this one here." Jonathan smiled as the kids opened their presents.
"Chocolates!" Ada cried, her eyes tearing up. "I haven't had chocolates in such a long time!"
"I got chocolates, and a game!" Charles said, his eyes lighting up.
"I got card games and chocolates too!" Irene said. At nine, she was the oldest of the dozen children whom Jonathan was escorting to various farms in Ireland this time around.
"I got the same thing!" David said, then added, "and I got socks! Dig deeper," he instructed the other kids who followed his instruction and there, nestled in the bottom of the boxes, were six pairs of thick heavy socks for each child.
"We're going to be the most popular kids in the village!" eight year old Ada said, swinging her blonde braids and twirling around so her pleated plaid skirt flared and showed a bit of her knickers. Irene blushed a bit and giggled behind her hand.
"No! The most popular kids in the county!" Charles put in. He was a sturdy child, small for his age, which was seven, like David, but with dark blue eyes and dark brown hair. He had a sturdy tweed coat about three sizes too big for him, but with clothes already being rationed, people were purchasing or trading for children's clothes.
"In Ireland!" David said authoritatively said. "We have games and chocolates and new socks. I'm going to save my chocolates," he indicated with a nod of his head as Irene started to unwrap one of her chocolate bars. She looked guilty, then nodded her head and put her chocolates back into the box.
"Chocolate keeps well, even if it goes a little gray after a few months," Jonathan informed the kids.
"Grey chocolate won't hurt us?" David wanted to know.
"Not at all," Jonathan replied. "Now why don't you put your presents away and go find the other kids so they may have their presents?"
"All right!" David said as the four kids put their presents into their own suitcases but leaving out one of the card games. The four of them went off to find the other children, which shouldn't be hard to do as there were only six passenger cars.
Jonathan sat down. Then he stood up again, and took down two other pieces of luggage from the overhead rack. He could hear the rest of the children running through the train. Evidently David and the others had done what children naturally do: tattle.
He smiled as a dozen children raced up the aisle towards him. Soon, he found himself surrounded by a giggling bunch of children who oohed and ahhhed over their presents. Their joy at receiving presents, despite their leaving London and being transported to a foreign country, helped him with his own grief. He missed Tallulah greatly.
When the children were settled down with their presents, playing what looked to become an intense card game of Old Maid, Jonathan went back to the cafe car with his writing supplies.
He wanted to write his sister again. He hadn't seen his sister or her family many times since late August. He'd been on a combination holiday and antique buying expedition to Liverpool with Tallulah. The two had holed up in Manchester the day the blitzkreig started.
After making their way from Manchester to London by car, Jonathan had immediately volunteered to chaperone the children who were going to safer environs in Ireland. He'd left London the very day he'd arrived from Manchester with Tallulah and had perhaps an hour at most with his sister. Most of the children were true city children, having never seen a farm, or a cow, for that matter.
The train rattled on its tracks and Jonathan hoped a bomb hadn't been dropped somewhere on the tracks behind them. He sat down at the same table he and David had vacated a short time ago, took out his writing supplies and laid out a small stack of writing paper. A woman came by and placed a cup of tea on the table in front of him.
"Here you go, a cuppa. It's English Breakfast," she said, smiling. "We'd like to thank you and your sister for the food donations."
"Thank you. It's never a problem," Jonathan looked up and smiled back. The woman moved on to the next table, where an elderly gentlemen wearing a well made tweed coat was sitting.
He tried to start his latest letter to his sister, knowing she'd receive the letters in odd order; the three previous letters he'd sent hadn't yet arrived in London. Or maybe they had and hadn't made their way to the Carnahan O'Connells.
Jonathan had some big news to relay to his sister. But he found himself staring out the window at the English countryside rolling along, smiling to himself at the big news he'd received just before the train had left the train station.
