'Cordelia's Secret' by Jan Lloyd

Flora gripped her sister's hand as they stepped off the train onto the cold, damp platform. She shivered and held Betty closer to keep warm. They had arrived in Shropshire for "safe keeping". That's how their mother had phrased it when she told them they had to leave their home in Cable Street, London.
It was 1940 and the docklands area had been subjected to the terrible atrocities of World War Two. The bombs had destroyed many buildings and families feared for their lives. Flora and Betty's Mum had reluctantly agreed to the government scheme for the evacuation of children and allowed her daughters' departure to a safer place. Her heart was breaking as she waved them goodbye earlier that day.
Flora was only twelve but her mother's strict instructions to look after Betty still rang in her ears. Betty, at just 10 years old, looked tearfully up at Flora as they waited to be collected by their new carers.
Later, as Flora and Betty jumped up into the carriage that came for them, they felt a surge of contentment as they sat besides Mrs Baxter. 'You must call me Beattie,' she said to the girls with a beaming smile, 'and me 'ubby, e's Harry'.
Flora felt at ease with her new minders and her fear started to fade as she imagined where they were being taken. They had been the last of a group of children who had been deposited at various points during the train journey. She stared out of the window at the countryside. Flora had never seen such greenery in her life and sat gaping at the delightful, landscape that passed by.
Harry Baxter was driving the horses that pulled the carriage and that too was a wonder for the girls from London. 'Ere we are at last,' Mrs Baxter whispered to the girls.
Flora had drifted off to the gentle clip, clopping of the two horses. She sat up as the carriage was entering through some large, black, wrought iron gates. She saw a sign which read, "Merrington Estate", and as the carriage turned she saw a hugh, imposing manor house at the end of a tree lined avenue.
Betty stirred and looked up, 'Blimey,' she gasped, 'is this our new 'ouse?'
'Is this your's?' Flora enquired of Mrs Baxter.
'Bless you, no, me and Harry are housekeeper and butler to Lord and Lady Lydbury. They're goin' to be yer new Ma and Pa for a while.'
Flora and Betty were helped down from the carriage by Harry and they stood wide eyed before the dark, stone facade. Flora pulled her coat tighter as the weather had worsened and black clouds were gathering above the tall, swaying, oak trees rising on both sides of the manor. As she looked up at the gloomy building she noticed a small child gazing down at her from a leaded window in the roof. 'Is that the Lord and Lady's little girl?' Flora asked Mrs Baxter.
'Yer must be tired and yer eyes playing tricks, there's no children 'ere m'dear, c'mon lets get you in to the warm.'
Flora looked up once again and saw a shadow move behind the lace curtain at the window. As she climbed the steps to the entrance she felt rain on her cheek and an impending sense of doom, worse than she'd ever felt when the bombs had been dropping back home.
This was not like the picturesque cottage on the Bluebird tin of toffees she'd been given the previous Christmas and how she'd imagined where they would be living. The contentment she had felt on first meeting Mr. and Mrs. Baxter began to fade as she walked through the arched, wooden doorway. 'I am tired and weary', she thought, 'but my eyes are not playing tricks, I know what I saw.'