Page 84 of Strangers in Time

“But he just doesn’t strike me as the type. And he said he worked for the government. He knows about this Secrets Act thing.”

“I can’t figure it out,” admitted Charlie.

“Do you think we should go to the police? I don’t want to believe that Mr. Oliver is… doing anything illegal. But we do have a duty as British citizens.”

When she had mentioned the word “police,” Charlie had involuntarily glanced at the door where the towel was now soaked through.

Molly followed his gaze. “I wish you’d tell me what’s bothering you.”

He shot her a look and his face reddened. “Right now, everythin’s botherin’ me. We got no parents. We got nothin’.”

“But we’re here.”

He pointed to the door. “There’s a lady over there what runs that tea shop. She’ll find out quick enough that we’re livin’ here and then what do you think she’ll do?”

“What?”

“Call the coppers. She knows Mr. Oliver ain’t got no children. They’ll put us in an orphanage.”

“You can’t possibly know that.”

“Idobleedin’ know that!”

“Well, maybe an orphanage wouldn’t be so very bad,” she retorted.

“They are, too. I got mates what got sent to them.”

“What mates?”

“Never you mind about that. Just mates.”And now one of them’s dead, thought Charlie. And he had no idea where Lonzo had gotten to. Maybe hehadjoined the army as Lonzo had suggested at their last meeting.

Charlie couldn’t know that Lonzo would try to do so, only it would go horribly, horribly wrong. For both Lonzoandhim.

FORKING& COUNTRY

HOW OLD DID YOUsay you were again, lad?”

The rigid man in the military uniform looked up at Lonzo, who stood before him with his soiled cap clutched in nervous fingers, but his expression resolute. He had washed up with a stolen bar of soap, and water from a public fountain, and then nicked a set of secondhand clothes from the back of a shop. His worn-out brogues had been replaced by a pair of shoes he’d found after the most recent bombing. The owner had apparently been blown right out of them, leaving the shoes a bit singed but still far better than what Lonzo had.

“Eighteen,” answered Lonzo promptly.

“You don’t look it,” said the sergeant major in His Majesty’s Army. He was missing his left arm below the elbow, and his right eye where a black patch now lay. They were the reasons he was sitting here recruiting others to fight a war he no longer could. His trim mustache ran straight as a ruler over his firm upper lip.

Lonzo stood as tall as he could manage. “Just need me some proper food and a uniform and I’ll look my age all right. Fill out, I will.”

“And your address?”

Lonzo said immediately, “Flat Four-a, Thirteen Dapleton Terrace, Bethnal Green, guv.”

“East Ender, eh? You blokes make good fighters. And you may call mesir.”

“Been fightin’ for a while now,sir. On the streets, I’m meanin’.” Lonzo grinned.

“Fighting in a war is a very different thing, young man.”

“Right, guv, er, sir.”

“Parents?”

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