Page 138 of Strangers in Time

They both looked at it. “You got this?” said one.

“From the King, yes.” He held out his ARP warrant card. “I’m an air warden. I… it was awarded for bravery. Though I was just doing my job, like you are.”

“Well done, mate,” said the soldier, handing it back. He looked through the window at Molly. “Lost my mum last year. Got leave, though, and said my goodbyes to her.” He looked at the other soldier. “What do you think?”

The man shrugged and nodded.

“Okay, good luck to you then,” said the first soldier, waving them on.

As they drove off, Oliver said, really to himself, “First time I’m happy I won that thing.”

“We go left at the next road,” said Molly, reading off the dim interior light.

Later, Charlie saw the signpost first.

“The Institute’s that way,” he said, pointing to the left.

“Indeed it is, Charlie, good eye,” said Oliver.

They drove on as the rain started to fall.

Oliver said, “My word, the place is really right on the water. You can see the Channel over there through the trees. And just across the water is France.”

“I heard ’a the White Cliffs of Dover,” said Charlie. “I know they’re on the Channel. My gran went there once on holiday and told me ’bout them.”

“Yes, but they’re clear on the other side of the country, southeastof London, across the Channel from Calais,” replied Oliver. “It’s said that every British soldier going off to fight looks back and sees the white cliffs as his last glimpse of home. And when he comes back it’s his first sight of England.”

“Ifhe comes back,” said Charlie curtly.

They reached an open gate set on stone posts, turned down the lane, and drove on. They rounded a bend, and sprawling before them was their destination.

THEBENEFICIALINSTITUTE

THIS PLACE LOOKS MORElike a medieval fortress than a restful retreat for those ailing,” observed Oliver in surprise.

The full bulk of the Institute loomed up out of the dark—it was a structure of formidable scale.

They climbed out of the Singer and approached the door.

Molly suddenly said, “Wait, where are we going to stay for the night? We can’t possibly drive back to London.”

“We passed an inn on the road coming in here right on the outskirts of Falmouth. I’m sure we can get a couple of rooms there,” said Oliver.

“But won’t that be expensive?”

“Didn’t I say? This entire trip is courtesy of the War Office. It was the very least they could do,” he added bluntly.

Oliver knocked on the door, and it was opened by an elderly matron dressed all in white. They explained who they were. She nodded and said, “Dr. Stephens told me of your visit. Please come this way.”

They followed her down a long stone hallway dimly lit with a string of bulbs. The interior was vast, high ceilinged, and also coldand uninviting, thought Molly. She could see why her mother had not rallied here. She pulled her coat tighter around her.

The matron rapped on a door markedOFFICE.

A soft voice said, “Enter.”

She opened the door and ushered them in to meet Dr. Thaddeus Stephens. He was a small man with white whiskers and rumpled hair. He was dressed in country tweeds with a bowtie that was a bit askew.

“Ah, Miss Wakefield, so good of you to come,” he said, shaking her hand. He turned to the others. “And you must be Ignatius Oliver,” he said, shaking his hand as Oliver introduced Charlie.

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