She went back to the places Mum and she had been before. She also went to the shelters where the homeless were gathering. No one at the hospital had seen Julia and there was no record of either Julia or Mum having been admitted. Emmy returned to the police station, which was as chaotically busy as it had been three days before. A different policeman was on duty and she had to explain all over again how Julia came to be missing.
“And where is your mother right now?” this new policeman said, looking past Emmy. Emmy was a child and he didn’t have time for children.
“She’s out looking for my sister.” It wasn’t exactly a lie.
It was obvious he was perturbed that Emmy was at the station alone without Mum. “Look, I’ve heard nothing of a young girl turning up. Have your Mum check with all the neighbors, and the child’s friends, and—”
Emmy cut him off. “We don’t have any more neighbors! Our street has been bombed. Everyone has left. That is what I have been telling you. She went missing the first night of the bombing.”
He frowned at the interruption. “You bring your mum here and I will make out an official report.”
“We already did that!” Emmy yelled. “On Sunday. This is Wednesday. She’s been missing for four days!”
The policeman wagged a finger at Emmy. “Do you think you’re the only soul in London with a tale of woe today? Do you know how many people are dead or missing? You tell your mum to come next time. I’m done with you.”
He turned from Emmy to help someone else.
She stood there stunned, unable to believe no one could help her. An older woman sitting on a bench and looking as though she had been waiting a long time crooked a finger, beckoning Emmy to approach her.
“I heard what you told the policeman, and I’m very sorry your little sister is missing,” she said. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you and your mum should check the casualty listings at one of the Incident Inquiry Points.”
Emmy had no idea what she was talking about. “The what?”
She reached for Emmy’s arm and squeezed it gently. “They have listings, my dear. The names of those who’ve been killed. They have a list.”
Emmy felt the blood drain from her face. “I don’t know what you’re saying.” But she did. She did know what she was saying.
The woman released her hold and patted Emmy’s arm. “Tell your mum to check at the nearest Incident Inquiry Point, love. There’s an IIP just around the corner from the police station here. Tell your mum to check with them.”
The woman withdrew her hand and her attention. She turned from Emmy to stare at the queue of people waiting their turn for help, allowing Emmy a sliver of privacy to take in the idea that Julia’s body might be lying in a morgue somewhere, waiting for a family member to claim her remains.
Emmy left the station, numb with fear and dread.
Somehow she put one foot in front of the other and walked to the IIP office, as the woman had called it. Emmy stepped inside and fell in with the crowds of people seeking information. Her mind seemed to drift into that state between sleep and wakefulness as she waited her turn. Others ahead of her also wanted to see the lists. New copies of the latest reports of the dead were laid out on the counter by a green-uniformed matron of the Women’s Volunteer Service. Those on an errand like no other moved forward to peer at them. The man ahead of Emmy looked and turned away, relief evident in his face. Emmy bent over to look, her gaze traveling over the letters of the alphabet. Past the As, the Bs, the Cs and then the Ds.
And then she saw it.
Downtree.
Emmy’s heart slammed against her chest.
Downtree.
And then she saw the name following it, separated from Downtree with a tiny, gentle comma.
Anne Louise.
It wasn’t Julia’s name listed on the roll call of the dead.
It was Mum’s.