On a train from London to somewhere in the English countryside, 1943...

Lesley Patterson looked out of the window as the countryside flew by; mile after mile of endless green hillsides and greener pastures. He gritted his teeth and tried ever so hard not to pout; the bullies in the next car had given up after a scolding by the conductor. His cheeks still were warm and quite likely red from the teasing they gave him and he could only hope his champion in blue would keep the boys at bay. He was only slightly proud that he hadn’t given the boys the satisfaction of crying in front of them; he was nine years old and he was going to be a man!

"Anyone sitting here?"

He looked up to see a girl about ten years old or so staring expressionless at him. He scooted over against the compartment wall, giving her the window view.

"Thanks. Name's Jill, Jill Pole."

She smiled and held out her hand, which he took in his, shaking it gently.

"Lesley...Lesley Patterson." He shrugged his shoulders apologetically

She looked over at the two little girls asleep against each other, a woman sitting next to them. With the evacuation, children rarely received an escort, so the girls were likely traveling home with their mother.

"First time out, right?" Lesley nodded. The girl seemed very forward, but certainly friendlier than his assailants in the next carriage.

"Don't worry...You'll be alright. Jerry never bombs out in the country...leastwise that's what we've been told. I've never been, but I know from friends that it can be okay, as long as you just go with the flow,"

Lesley nodded again. He didn't agree with her at all. This was the first time he'd ever been away from home. Most likely he'd never return to London, since his father had been killed over Belgium in a dogfight from what he'd heard, and his mother quickly followed her husband after a bomber destroyed the underground they'd been sheltered in. He and two little boys from his neighborhood along with their mother were the only survivors out of seventeen. He bit his tongue. He wasn't going to cry in front of this girl, and that was all there was to it.

"My dad's in North Africa and mum's a nurse in hospital in Netley. How about you?

"Me mum died last month....been stayin' with me Auntie in London. Dad got it over Belgium...I don't..." Lesley was saying what he had avoided speaking for nearly three weeks. The realization of what he spoke hit him in the stomach like the fists of the bullies in the next car. His lip quivered and the tears began to flow.

"Oh, bother, I'm so sorry. I should have known better. There, there. It's going to be alright." He hoped it would be, but nothing seemed further from the truth.

"Now, little man, no tears," the woman across from them spoke up. "Mustn't cry like a little girl. Buck up and all that." She smiled at her advice, truly believing that the best thing for a nine year old orphan was to be strong and stoic.

He sniffled and stopped crying, at least outwardly, but his expression was anything but stalwart. The girl reached over and grabbed his hand, patting it softly. She waited until the woman returned her attention to her book before whispering,

"It's okay, Les...don't you worry. Turn your head to the wall. I'll start singing and she won't hear you, okay?" He nodded and wiped his face with his sleeve, and did as she suggested. For the next twenty or so minutes she reveled the woman and her two girls with renditions of "Oranges and Lemons," "A Hunting We Will Go," "Diddle, Diddle, Dumpling," and some silly verse about a place called Narnia.

What seemed like an eternity later, the train stopped at one of the many outlying stations along the route. There was nothing to be seen besides the verdant hillside that cozied up to the crude wooden platform. A stern-faced woman sat in the front of a pony and trap, looking quite impatient.

“Well, this is my stop,” Jill said with a smile. Sorry about before. Don’t worry, you’ll be alright, I’m sure of it,” she said confidently, evoking a half-frown from Lesley. She stood up and as she leaned over to hug the boy she noticed the paper tag pinned to his jacket.

“Well, look here…this is your stop…Professor Kirke’s Home…” She pulled him to his feet, startling the boy a bit.

“Oh…okay…” She grabbed his hand and they made their way down the aisle and out.

“Watch your step, young lady…and you, too, lad. Just a bit of a dip there...platform is sagging a bit. Don’t worry. Everything is going to be alright.” The conductor said, giving the children a hand off of the car and onto the platform.

“Thank you, sir!” Jill said politely; Lesley stared at the conductor before turning away from the train. He took one step and ran into the woman from the wagon they had seen from the car.

“Don’t you look where you’re goin’, laddie?” She stepped back and he stepped back, looking up into her scowling face. She tried not to grin, but the boy’s red face gave away his great embarrassment.

“Now look here, young laddie, you mind your business and you and I will get along just fine. Come on, I know you can talk…what’s your name?”

“Les…Lesley…Puh..Puh.” He stammered.

“You’re soundin’ like a motor car there, laddie. Take a deep breath and try again.”

“Le…Lesley Pat..Patterson, Mum.” He put his head down and looked at his shoes.

“Well, Lesley Patterson, I’m rather pleased to meet you. And what would your name be, lassie?”

“Jill, Mum…Jill Pole.” She smiled and looked the woman directly in the eye and nodded.

“Quite good, Miss Pole. Is this lad kin to ye?” Jill shook her head no.

“Well, no never mind. You’ll be almost like brother and sister, I expect. My name is Mrs. Macready. I’m the Professor’s housekeeper. You’ll be wise to pay attention, because I don’t like repeating myself.” The children nodded.

“The Professor isn’t to be disturbed under any circumstances, not matter what anyone says to the contrary. Over the last several years we’ve had a few children such as yourself comin’ to the home here, and Professor Kirke is more likely than not to come out of his study to talk. And of course there’ll be meals and such, but please mind and don’t be botherin’ him if the door is closed, aye?” The children stared at her.

“Aye?” They picked up on her prompt and nodded enthusiastically.

“You’ll have chores and all that, but you’re free to roam around the grounds. Mind you to take your shoes off at the back door if you’ve been playin’ outside. Now if I ask you to do somethin’ don’t be standin’ and thinkin’ about it…just do as you’re told and we should get along marvelously.” At the word marvelously she turned her head and grinned. She’d gained a reputation over the years as being cross, but she really was a decent woman at heart, and actually was glad for the company in the huge house.

“My friend’s cousins stayed here a while back. The Pevensies?” Jill smiled and Mrs. Macready shook her head with a glare.

“Don’t get me started about that tribe…Goin’ all sortsa places and such! Indeed, they had the Professor in a dither about this place they kept talkin’ about…Narthex…no, that’s not it…Nebula?” She frowned until Jill interuppted.

“Begging your pardon, Mum, was it Narnia?”

“No, I don’t think so…It will come to me…you just wait and see. I’ll be tossin’ and turnin’ over this all night.” She half smiled and tilted her head.

“Well, come along. I’ve got dinner ready back at the house. I expect you’ll be wantin’ to eat after that long train ride.” She walked down the steps of the platform and over to the trap, getting into the seat once again and pointing to one side.

“Well, I’m off, so you had better get up onto here right quick, aye?” She took the reins in hands as if to signal the horse to start off. The children quickly scurried off the platform and were seated on the side of the trap in seconds.

“Well, this is going to be some time, right Les?” Jill said as she pointed to rows of trees that lined the road.

“We can play all sorts of games and act out stories and adventures. You’ll see, it will be almost like home before you know it.” She had scarcely said it when she regretted her words. The boy looked at her and burst into tears. Unlike the woman on the train, Mrs. Macready was ready and understanding.

“Don’t you worry, laddie. It’ll be alright…aye? Alright!” She turned around briefly and tossled his hair before turning her attention once again to the road ahead.

“Aye…you’ll be alright.” She began to sing softly,

Be thou my speech, be thou my understanding.
Be thou with me, be I with thee
Be thou my father, be I thy girl.
Mayst thou be mine, may I be thine.

She changed the wording only slightly, with the word girl sounding like “gael.” She laughed softly, feeling completely justified since she wasn’t a son. Jill recognized the hymn and began to sing along, but Lesley just back of the seat and began to cry. Jill patted him on the back, but continued to sing along with Mrs. Macready.

Be thou my battle-shield, be thou my sword.
Be thou my dignity, be thou my delight.

She continued to rub the boy’s back, smiling while singing new words to the hymn,

Don't you worry, Lesley, dear,
Yes, it’s going to be alright.

Next: If Wishes Were Talking Horses!

Be Thou My Vision (Irish: Bá­ Thusa 'mo Sháºile) is a traditional Christian hymn, which can be traced to Ireland but is now sung in English-speaking churches around the world. (Wikipedia)