It had not been necessary for Matteo to show his fury—they already felt as guilty and wretched as they could be for having disobeyed him and gone out by themselves. Now they waited for news of Kit—no one could do anything; they scarcely had the energy to talk among themselves. It was incredible how much they missed the infuriating little boy and how much they feared for him. Matteo had shut them into their room and gone to the police station. He had been there twice already and the officer in charge had promised to let him know if there was any news, but he found it impossible to keep away. There were less than four hours to go before the night train to Calais was due to leave from the Central Station. “I wasn’t nice to him,” said Tally. “I got so impatient.” And the others told her not to be silly. “He used to follow you around like a half-hatched duckling,” said Julia. “He wouldn’t have done that if you hadn’t been nice.” But then they realized they were talking of Kit as though he was already dead, and they fell silent once again.
