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that it was stolen. It was a man’s watch, gold, expensive-looking, with a brown leather strap, and had a tiny second hand that went round in its own circle.
    Edith drew in her breath. “Where did you get that? You stole it, didn’t you?”
    “Found it,” said Vic. “Found a few things, me and Stan.”
    Stan had joined them. “Those houses in Belmont Walk,” he said, “they’re all empty. Chace Terrace as well, and Ruyter Street. Rows of toffs’ houses, no one living there, all their furniture and stuff left behind. The owners have hopped it.”
    “Gone to their country homes for the duration,” said Vic. “Jewellery and all sorts left lying around…”
    “You broke in?” Edith sounded shocked, but Josie could see that she was impressed.
    “It’s easy. The cellars are the best way. And those people don’t need the stuff, or they’d have taken it with them.”
    “But – it’s still stealing,” said Josie.
    Vic shrugged. “Rescue services do it all the time, don’t they? Our cousin’s a fireman. Says it’s one of the perks. Anything small, like that. Or stuff you can sell.”
    Josie didn’t want to believe him. But Clare, who’d been listening, said, “It’s true. My aunty’s house in Hampstead was looted after she was bombed out. She says it must have been the rescue workers.”
    Josie didn’t like to think of that: men risking their own lives to save others, but robbing them at the same time. Did that make them heroes, or villains?
    “There’s your loopy friend,” said Vic, glancing across the waste ground.
    Josie saw Alice Hampton hurrying along the road, head down.
    “She’s not our friend!” retorted Edith.
    And Sylvia said, “She’s a drip.”
    They left the boys, and Josie hoped they would choose a game – skipping, or tag. But it seemed the game was to be taunting Alice. They began to pick up small pieces of brick debris and flick them, as if accidentally, in her direction, all the time drawing closer. Then, with Pam in the lead, they set off in pursuit.
    Josie hung back. But Edith said, “Come on !” – and she went along with them, afraid to be singled out, shown up as different.
    They surrounded Alice; blocked her way. She tried to push past them, but Pam and Edith dodged from side to side, laughing, outwitting her, keeping her trapped. “Don’t run away! We’re coming with you to your class. Then we can all learn to be teacher’s pets.”
    Alice ignored them. Sylvia sneaked up behind her and pulled her plait, untying the ribbon, which slipped out. Clare tugged at her satchel. “Let’s have a look at your books! What are you learning? Let’s see.”
    “Leave me alone !” Alice shouted.
    Josie appealed to her cousin. “Edith, let her go. It’s mean.”
    But Edith wasn’t listening. She was full of the excitement of the chase. Alice broke free of them, but they ran after her and caught her up. Josie followed, unwillingly.
    They only fell back when Alice turned the corner into Belmont Gardens, and they saw that she was heading for one of the houses there.
    “So that’s where she goes,” said Pam.
    The group split up, and Edith and Josie set off home down the King’s Road.
    Josie walked ahead, knowing her feelings must be obvious to her cousin.
    “It’s just a game,” said Edith. “We’re not hurting her.”
    “It’s mean.”
    “So what? No one likes her. You don’t like her, do you?”
    “No.”
    “Well, it doesn’t matter, then, does it?”
    But Josie felt that it did.
    The next day, at school, she said to Alice, “I tried to stop them chasing you.”
    But Alice only shrugged and said, “You needn’t bother. I don’t care.”
    At break times Alice stayed in, doing tasks for Miss Hallam: filling inkwells, or tidying the stationery cupboard.
    “She’s a toady,” said Sylvia.
    Or she’s scared to come out because of us, thought Josie. But she didn’t say so.
    On Friday they followed Alice home from school after lunch. They walked at a