them. She didnât understand what he meant but John and Mary did. The hundreds and hundreds of houses were all so small and cramped together that it looked as if there couldnât be enough space for people to live comfortably.
âWherever do all the children play?â Ben said in an astonished voice.
Aunt Mabel glanced out of the window. âIn the gardens,if theyâre lucky enough to have them. If not, in the streets or the parks.â
âBut thereâs no room ,â Ben said. âRound our house, there was miles and miles and miles.â
âWell, there isnât here,â Aunt Mabel said shortly. âCertainly not in the towns, and in the country there are fields full of crops and you arenât allowed to play in those, let me tell you.â
Ben wrinkled his nose. âIt sounds horrid,â he said.
John and Mary looked at each other. It did sound depressing and it looked depressing too. The sky was leaden grey and seemed to press down low over the little houses and the crowded streets and the hurrying people. It was all very flat, there were no hills and only a few dead looking treesâJohn thought they were dead until he remembered that in England the trees lost their green leaves in winter. They swept into London over the Hammersmith Flyover.
âLook,â shouted Ben, kneeling up on his seat, âthe cars are going underneath. Weâre up in the air!â
John and Mary might have been excited too, if they had not been so cold. Even Aunt Mabel, who didnât seem inclined to notice things about people, saw that they were cold. When they got out of the bus and were waiting for a taxi to take them to the railway station, she turned Maryâs collar up round her neck and said, âThat coat isnât warm enough. Your blood must have got thin with being in Africa.â
âMrs Epsom said you would have to get us some warm clothes,â John said.
âShe said you would probably buy us some toys too,â Ben said with a happy grin. Mrs Epsom had said this to comforthim when he realised he would have to leave Balthazar behind.
âOh she did, did she?â Aunt Mabel said dryly. She didnât say anything else until they were sitting in the train and eating the ham sandwiches she produced out of a brown carrier bag. While they ate, she watched them thoughtfully and rather anxiously with her sharp, brown eyes. She was thinking of the letter Mrs Epsom had written to her.
⦠I imagine that their father will eventually make some financial arrangement for the children but at the moment he is in no state do do so. He is quite broken-up by his wifeâs death and of course everything he had was swept away in the flood. He seems to have no money in the Bank, either. We think he has always lived beyond his income. The children seem always to have had everything they want. My husband has advanced the money for their fares and for a few clothes. I have asked Mr Mallory over and over again if you can afford to support the children but all he says is: There is no one else â¦
Aunt Mabel said in a brusque voice, âYou may as well knowâI canât afford to buy you a lot of clothes and toys and things.â
They all looked at her in surprise and she went on in an odd, almost indignant way, âMrs Epsom says youâve been used to having everything you want. I think weâd better get it straight from the beginning. Youâll not go without anything you really need, but thereâs no money for frills. I hope youâll understand that.â
âYes, Aunt Mabel,â Mary said, though she didnât really understand at all. She supposed they always had had everything they wanted, but it had never seemed to cost much money.After all, there were so few shops where they lived, in Africa, that it would have been difficult to spend a lot of money. She wondered if Aunt Mabel was really poor and if they would all have to live