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all their gas masks. “You won’t need these any more,” she smiled.
    Norah clutched hers possessively. “Can’t I keep it as a souvenir?”
    â€œYou have enough to carry,” said the woman. Norah handed over the cardboard case she’d taken with her everywhere for the past year. She was surprised to discover she felt attached to it; she’d always hated wearing her gas mask for school drills. It smelled like hot rubber and made her want to gag. But you could produce rude noises and spit by puffing into it, and once she’d sent her whole class into convulsions by pretending to blow its long “nose”. Without it she felt naked and vulnerable.
    Miss Montague-Scott led her group to the wharf. They sat down and waited for hours to board the SS Zandvoort . Sandwiches were passed down the long lines of children, and then a man started them singing. Were they going to have to sing all the way to Canada?
    â€œCome along, everyone,” the man exhorted through his megaphone. “Stand up and take some d-e-e-e-e-p breaths. Now, all together … ‘There’ll al -ways be an Eng -land …’”
    It sounded like a dirge. A group of boys behind them broke into the singing loudly: “There’ll always be a SCOTLAND …” Norah turned around and grinned with surprise.
    The leader looked startled, then he smiled too. “Good for you, boys, that’s the spirit! Now, kiddies, you’re about to start on a marvellous adventure. I see some sad faces in the crowd—that will never do. Are we downhearted?”
    A few voices called out “No!”
    â€œI can’t hear you! Everyone, now—are we downhearted?”
    â€œNO!” roared the children.
    Dulcie was standing beside Norah; her hysterical scream pierced Norah’s right ear. Again and again the man led the crowd to yell “NO!”
    Norah pressed her lips tightly together. This was as bad as being asked to clap if you believed in fairies.
    â€œThat’s much better!” laughed the jolly leader. “Now, before you sit down again—thumbs up! Come on, everyone, show me how!”
    â€œThumbs up, Norah!” said Dulcie, closing her fists and pointing her thumbs. She looked puzzled when Norah ignored her.
    Finally they were allowed to walk up the gangway to the huge, grey ship. Norah sniffed in a mixture of tar, steam and salt water. In spite of herself, she felt a twinge of excitement. She’d never been on a ship before.
    â€œSmile, everyone!” They were asked to lean over the railing, wave to the photographers and drone once again, “There’ll Always Be an England”.
    Norah held onto Gavin’s small hot palm and took a last look at Britain. Everything was grey: the dirty water below, the smoking chimneys of Liverpool and the leaden sky. Slender beams of searchlights crisscrossed the dusk and high in the air floated the silvery, pig-shaped barrage balloons.
    Then the engines thrummed, the whistles blew and the ship began to move. Norah turned her back on home and faced the other way.

7
    The Voyage
    N orah and Gavin were assigned to the same cabin as Goosey and Loosey. “Isn’t this nice for you!” boomed Miss Montague-Scott, popping her head in to tell them to get ready for bed. “Four friends from home bunking together!”
    It was awful. Dulcie giggled as they banged into each other in the cramped space. Lucy complained because her nightdress was wrinkled. Worst of all was Gavin. He looked around the cabin frantically, then shook Norah’s arm. “Where are Muv and Dad? Why haven’t they come yet?”
    Norah wanted to shake him. How could he be so dim? “They aren’t here, ” she said impatiently. “Don’t be so silly. They’re at home in Ringden and we’re going to Canada without them.”
    â€œDidn’t you know that, Gavin?” said Lucy with all the superiority of