Page 20 of Strangers in Time

“What thing?”

“A Min-stry of Food.”

“Well, peopledoneedfood.”

“But if there’s a bloody min-stry of it, thenwhere’sthe food got to? You sees my point?”

“You shouldn’t say ‘bloody.’ It’s coarse and disrespectful, especially in the presence of a lady,” she added firmly.

“I beg pardon. But I’m not the only one wonderin’ ’bout the food, I can tell you that.”

“Well, Iamsorry. Where do you live?”

“Nowhere’s near here and I’ll leave it at that.”

“Well, if you can take me to the Ministry of Food, I can give you something in return.”

“Somethin’ like what?” he said, now clearly intrigued.

Molly withdrew from her coat pocket a coin. “This.”

“What’s that, a farthin’?” he said in a deprecating tone. “I daresay my time’s worth more’n that.”

“Does thislooklike a farthing?”

Charlie peered more closely. “A half crown! Where’d you get it?” he demanded. “Did you steal it?”

“Of course not! My parents gave it to me for emergencies when I left here.”

“Left?”

“To go to the country. But I never had an emergency where I was sent to live.”

“You left before the bombs, then?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yes. Did you?”

He shook his head. “Mum wouldn’t put me on the train. Wanted me to stay with her,” he added with a touch of defiance.

Molly’s face went pink. “I see” was all she could think to say. She held up the coin. “So, can you take me to the Ministry of Food? I suppose they have an office in London.”

“Surely you know where it is if your father works there?”

Molly started to shake her head, but then something occurred to her. She took out the letter her father had left. The address was right there at the top of the stationery. She silently chided herself for not thinking of this before. She held it out for him to see.

Charlie read off the address under the illumination of the moonlight.

“Do you know where it is?” she asked.

He nodded. “But it’s quite a ways off, Miss.”

“You needn’t call me Miss. I’m simply Molly. And it doesn’t matter to me how far it is. Can we get there somehow? We used to have a driver, Mr. John, but he’s no longer with us. And I obviously can’t drive our car.”

“What kinda car is it?” Charlie asked quite eagerly.

“A Singer.”

“You mean one of them big’uns with the long bonnet?”

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