Kissed a Sad Goodbye

“I am not a child,” Lewis grumbled aloud when he’dbanged his way out the front door, and for a moment he was tempted to give school a miss altogether. It didn’t seem right to sit in a stuffy classroom on the first day of September.

He looked up Stebondale Street, thinking longingly of the newts and tadpoles waiting in the clay ditch behind the fence, but he hadn’t anything to collect them in. And besides, if he was late Miss Jenkins would smack his hands with her ruler in front of the class, and his mum had threatened to send him to St. Edmund’s if he got into trouble again. With a sigh, he stuck his hands in his pockets and trudged off to school.

The morning wore away, and through the open window of his class in Cubitt Town School Lewis could see the dark bulk of the warehouses lining the riverfront. Beyond the warehouses lay the great ships with their exotic cargoes—sugar from the West Indies, bananas from Cuba, Australian wool, tea from Ceylon.… Miss Jenkins’s geography lecture faded. What did she know about the world? Lewis thought as she droned on about taxes and levies and acts. Now, the Penang, she could tell you about far-off places, she could tell you about things that really mattered. One of the few masted ships that still came up the Thames, she lay in Britannia Dry Dock for refitting, and just the smell of her made Lewis shiver. After school he’d—

The creak of the classroom door brought Lewis back with a blink. Mr. Bales, the headmaster, stood just inside the door, and the expression on his long, narrow face was so odd that Lewis felt his heart jerk. From the corridor rose a dull roar of sound, the chattering of children in other rooms.

“Miss Jenkins. Children.” Mr. Bales cleared his throat. “You must all be very brave. We’ve just had an announcement on the wireless. War is imminent. The government has given orders to evacuate. You are all to go home and report back here with your bundles in one hour.” He turned away, but with his hand on the door turned back tothem and shook his finger. “You must have your name tags and gas masks, don’t forget. And no more than an hour.”

The door closed after him. For a moment the room held its breath, then a shout came from Ned Norris in the back row. “A holiday! We’ve got a holiday!”

The class took up the chanting as they surged out to meet the other children in the hall. Lewis joined in, pushing through the front doors and leaping from the steps with a Red Indian whoop, but his heart wasn’t in it.