bag full of coconut shells and an empty glass bottle. “For Ernest’s message in a bottle,” she explained. “Sir Godfrey said to get a whiskey bottle, but with Mrs. Brightford’s little girls there, I thought perhaps orange squash would be more suitable—”
Polly cut her off. “Would you tell Sir Godfrey I may not be at rehearsal tonight? I must help my cousin get settled in.”
“Oh, yes, poor thing,” Miss Laburnum said. “Did she know any of the five who were killed?”
Oh, no, Miss Laburnum knew about the deaths, too. Now she’d have to keep Mike and Eileen away from the troupe as well.
“Were they shop assistants?” Miss Laburnum asked.
“No,” Polly said, “but the incident’s left her badly shaken, so I’d rather you didn’t say anything to her about it.”
“Oh, no, of course not,” Miss Laburnum assured Polly. “We wouldn’t want to upset her.” Polly was certain she meant it, but she or someone else at the boardinghouse was bound to slip. She
had
to find a way to get in to see Marjorie tomorrow.
“It’s dreadful,” Miss Laburnum was saying, “so many killed, and who knows how it will all end?”
“Yes,” Polly said, and was grateful when the sirens went. “I’d appreciate it if you told Sir Godfrey why I can’t come.”
“Oh, but you
can’t
be thinking of staying here with a raid on? Can she, Miss Hibbard?” she asked their fellow boarder as she came hurrying out of her room carrying a black umbrella and her knitting.
“Oh, my, no,” Miss Hibbard said. “It’s far too dangerous. Mr. Dorming, tell Miss Sebastian she and her cousin must come with us.”
And in a moment Eileen would open the door to see what was going on. “We’ll come to the shelter as soon as I’ve shown her where things are,” Polly promised, to get rid of them. She escorted them downstairs.
“Don’t be too late,” Miss Laburnum said at the door. “Sir Godfrey said he wished to rehearse the scene between Crichton and Lady Mary.”
“I may not be able to rehearse with you with my cousin—”
“You can bring her with you,” Miss Laburnum said.
Polly shook her head. “She’ll need rest and quiet.”
And to be kept away
from people who know there were five killed
. “Tell Sir Godfrey I’ll be there tomorrow night, I promise,” she said, and ran back upstairs.
She waited to make certain Mrs. Rickett went with them and then ran back down to the kitchen. She put the kettle on, piled bread, oleomargarine, cheese, and cutlery on a tray, made tea, and brought it up to Eileen.
“Mrs. Rickett said we weren’t allowed to have food in the room,” Eileen said.
“Then she should have let you begin boarding immediately.” Polly set the tray on the bed. “Though, actually, it was a blessing she didn’t. This is much better than supper would have been.”
“But the siren,” Eileen said anxiously. “Shouldn’t we—”
“The raids won’t start till eight forty-six.” Polly buttered a slice of bread and handed it to Eileen. “And I told you, we’re safe here. Mr. Dunworthy himself approved this address.”
She poured Eileen a cup of tea. “I found out some more names of airfields today,” she said, and read them to her, but Eileen shook her head at each one.
“Could it have been Hendon?” Polly asked,
“No, I’m so sorry. I
know
I’d recognize it if I saw it. If only we had a map.”
“Did you get to the shop in Charing Cross Road?”
“Yes, but the owner demanded to know what we wanted with a map and asked us all sorts of questions. He even asked Mike what sort of accent it was he had. I thought he was going to have us arrested. Mike said he suspected us of being German spies.”
“He may have,” Polly said. “I should have thought of that. There’ve been all sorts of posters up warning people to be on the lookout for anyone behaving suspiciously—snapping photographs of factories or asking questions about our defenses—and trying to buy a map would
Tracie Peterson, Judith Pella