and thousands just like them, just like us, are being evacuated for safety’s sake. Mr Churchill and the Government have enough to worry about trying to stop Britain being invaded and all those German bombers that fly in night after night over London and all the other cities. They don’t want to have to worry about us kids running around the place, getting hurt or lost or scared, so they reckon we’re better off in the countryside, and it’s easier to get food there.’ Sophie stopped and thought. ‘And in our case, it’s just that we are being evacuated that bit further than the rest of them. We have a relation in Ireland, so it makes sense that we have to stay with him.’
‘I s’pose so!’ Hugh said quietly.
‘Some children are going to America and Canada andAustralia, Hugh! That’s really far, oceans away. At least Ireland’s only across the sea from England. It’s not that far.’
‘I s’pose so, but it still feels like we’re running away, cowardy custards, like Tom said,’ he kept on.
‘Then in that case, we are just like all the others!’ Sophie added adamantly.
She looked out the window. Two small brown rabbits were hopping and running and zig-zagging through the field outside, the noise of the train giving them a right old fright. Hugh caught sight of them too for a second before they disappeared into the safety of a hedgerow.
The rabbits were right to run from the train – it was too big, too noisy, too scary, something a rabbit could not possibly understand. Just like this war. Sophie knew that deep inside her she did not feel a coward. If anything, she was trying to be brave, the bravest she had ever, ever been.
Sophie began to sing softly,
‘Run rabbit, run rabbit, run run run …’
Hugh joined in the familiar song. She squeezed his hand. They were both being brave. Hugh’s grey-blue eyes welled up with tears, but he seemed to understand. They both sang out, as the train rumbled on to Holyhead,
‘Run rabbit, run rabbit, run run run …’
CHAPTER 11
Sail Away
By the end of the five-hour journey they were both exhausted, and were pleased to stumble off the train and up to the Station Hotel, where Judy Murray organised tea and sandwiches. The hotel was packed with travellers, but Sophie was glad of the chance to use the bathroom, and to wash her grimy hands and face. Hugh wolfed down the dainty triangular-cut sandwiches.
‘I’m starving!’ he said, working his way through the whole plateful, and ignoring Sophie’s warning kicks to his shins.
‘Always nice to see a good appetite,’ beamed their minder. ‘It’s the children who don’t eat that I worry about.’
Sophie blushed. She was hungry, but at that moment the food tasted like sawdust in her mouth, and her stomach clenched up every now and then.
At last, Miss Murray escorted them down to the jetty where the huge mail-boat was waiting. It was the biggest ship Sophie had ever seen, much larger than any of the boats you’d see going up and down the Thames. It had two giant golden-coloured funnels that stuck up into the sky, and crowds of people were moving around the decks and leaning over the ship’s side.
Sophie had never expected so many people to be going to Ireland at the same time, and they had to wait in line until it came to their turn to board, and cross over the widegangplank, on to the slightly swaying deck.
Judy handed them over to the steward. He shook hands with both of them.
‘Bill Cox,’ he said. ‘Now, I’m in charge of you while you’re on this ship, so no chasing about or running around, no going places that are off-limits.’ He took down their names on a page in a small notebook he kept in his uniform shirt pocket.
‘What’s down that way?’ quizzed Hugh.
‘Those are the cabins – you’re not to go down there. Now, say goodbye to Miss Murray, and we’d best get a move on, as it looks like we’ve a full load on board today.’
Judy Murray shook hands with them solemnly and