through some of them stations, shall I?â
âOh, yes, please â that is, if youâve got time?â
âCourse Iâve got time. Iâll make time, but mind you look at them drawings and lists Iâve done for you and get learning them.â
âOh, I will,â Agnes promised him fervently.
Later, hurrying along High Holborn towards the orphanage, Agnes acknowledged that somehow seeing Ted made the knowledge that this evening would be the last she would ever spend at the orphanage easier to bear. Matron had said that she would walk with her herself to Article Row to see her settled in. Agnesâs heart swelled with pride as she remembered how Matron had praised her for her honesty and her courage when she had told her that after initially being too cowardly to go and see the room when she should have done she had then gone back and been rewarded with Tillyâs generosity.
âI can see already that you and Tilly are going to become good friends, Agnes,â Matron had said.
Agnes certainly hoped so. She had never had a close friend of her own before, just as she had never had anyone like Ted in her life before, or a room she would have to share with only one other person, and in a proper house.
She hoped the two other lodgers would like her. Tilly hadnât said much about them other than that one of them was a nurse, who worked at Barts, as Tilly herself did, and the other â the one who had claimed the room that was to have been Agnesâs â worked at Selfridges and was, in Tillyâs own words, âvery glamorous and excitingâ.
From her motherâs bedroom window Tilly surveyed Article Row eagerly, looking to see if any of their lodgers were on their way, even though it was only ten past seven. She had come upstairs using the excuse of needing to use the bathroom, knowing that her mother would disapprove of her hanging out of the window, so to speak, just as though they lived in some common rundown area where the inhabitants did things like that. Of course, her mother was being very matter-of-fact and businesslike about the whole thing, and because of that Tilly was having to pretend that she wasnât excited, especially when it came to Dulcie, whose imminent presence in their home her mother was regularly verbally regretting.
Disappointingly, though, the only people Tilly could see were Nancy from next door, who was standing by her front gate with her arms folded and a scarf tied round her head, talking to the coalman. He had sent a message earlier in the week via the young nephew who worked for him that he had received an extra delivery of coal and that if his customers had any sense they would take advantage of this, though it was summer, and fill their cellars âjust in caseâ.
There had been no need for anyone to ask, âJust in case what?â The prospect of war was on every-oneâs mind. Now, watching as his horse, obviously bored with his masterâs delay, moved on his own to the next house, Tilly gave in to one of the delicious shivers of excitement she had been feeling ever since Dulcie had marched into number 13 and staked her claim on the back bedroom, imagining how much fun Dulcie was going to bring into their previously quiet lives.
Further down the road, right at the end, Sergeant Dawson was opening his front gate and stepping out onto the pavement, the buttons on his police uniform shining brightly in the evening sunlight. The Dawsons went to the same church as Tilly and her mother, and tended to keep themselves to themselves. They didnât have any children, their only son having been sickly from birth and having died in his early teens. Tilly could only vaguely remember him, a thin pale boy several years older than her, in a wheelchair sheâd seen being pushed out by Mrs Dawson.
The Simpson family at number 3 had four young children, two girls and two boys, and Tilly could see the boys taking turns riding
âOh, yes, please â that is, if youâve got time?â
âCourse Iâve got time. Iâll make time, but mind you look at them drawings and lists Iâve done for you and get learning them.â
âOh, I will,â Agnes promised him fervently.
Later, hurrying along High Holborn towards the orphanage, Agnes acknowledged that somehow seeing Ted made the knowledge that this evening would be the last she would ever spend at the orphanage easier to bear. Matron had said that she would walk with her herself to Article Row to see her settled in. Agnesâs heart swelled with pride as she remembered how Matron had praised her for her honesty and her courage when she had told her that after initially being too cowardly to go and see the room when she should have done she had then gone back and been rewarded with Tillyâs generosity.
âI can see already that you and Tilly are going to become good friends, Agnes,â Matron had said.
Agnes certainly hoped so. She had never had a close friend of her own before, just as she had never had anyone like Ted in her life before, or a room she would have to share with only one other person, and in a proper house.
She hoped the two other lodgers would like her. Tilly hadnât said much about them other than that one of them was a nurse, who worked at Barts, as Tilly herself did, and the other â the one who had claimed the room that was to have been Agnesâs â worked at Selfridges and was, in Tillyâs own words, âvery glamorous and excitingâ.
From her motherâs bedroom window Tilly surveyed Article Row eagerly, looking to see if any of their lodgers were on their way, even though it was only ten past seven. She had come upstairs using the excuse of needing to use the bathroom, knowing that her mother would disapprove of her hanging out of the window, so to speak, just as though they lived in some common rundown area where the inhabitants did things like that. Of course, her mother was being very matter-of-fact and businesslike about the whole thing, and because of that Tilly was having to pretend that she wasnât excited, especially when it came to Dulcie, whose imminent presence in their home her mother was regularly verbally regretting.
Disappointingly, though, the only people Tilly could see were Nancy from next door, who was standing by her front gate with her arms folded and a scarf tied round her head, talking to the coalman. He had sent a message earlier in the week via the young nephew who worked for him that he had received an extra delivery of coal and that if his customers had any sense they would take advantage of this, though it was summer, and fill their cellars âjust in caseâ.
There had been no need for anyone to ask, âJust in case what?â The prospect of war was on every-oneâs mind. Now, watching as his horse, obviously bored with his masterâs delay, moved on his own to the next house, Tilly gave in to one of the delicious shivers of excitement she had been feeling ever since Dulcie had marched into number 13 and staked her claim on the back bedroom, imagining how much fun Dulcie was going to bring into their previously quiet lives.
Further down the road, right at the end, Sergeant Dawson was opening his front gate and stepping out onto the pavement, the buttons on his police uniform shining brightly in the evening sunlight. The Dawsons went to the same church as Tilly and her mother, and tended to keep themselves to themselves. They didnât have any children, their only son having been sickly from birth and having died in his early teens. Tilly could only vaguely remember him, a thin pale boy several years older than her, in a wheelchair sheâd seen being pushed out by Mrs Dawson.
The Simpson family at number 3 had four young children, two girls and two boys, and Tilly could see the boys taking turns riding
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