Hugh was watching Sophie. He was fretting about something, she could tell by the way he was shifting in the seat and fidgeting with his fingers.
‘Sophie!’
‘Hmm!’
‘Sophie, are we cowards?’ he whispered. She blinked. What in heaven’s name was he talking about? ‘Tom said we’re running away to a country that won’t help in the war.’
‘Don’t mind him!’ she replied. But she could tell that this was not enough to satisfy him. ‘Listen, Hugh! Maggie, Tom and Lily, 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 and Australia, 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 …’