All Clear (26 page)

Oh, no. In her anxiety about the bombing, she’d totally forgotten Eileen knew nothing about her and Mike’s fears that they’d altered events. “Yes, I mean, I did see it,” she stammered, “but I didn’t know … Mr. Dunworthy had told me all about the UXB and the incendiaries, but not about the altar, and when I saw it, I—”

“Thought it might have happened this morning?”

This morning
? What did that mean? But at least Eileen hadn’t guessed the real reason she’d asked all these questions. “No, last night,”
Polly said. “And there was so much damage, it looked like the entire thing could collapse any minute, and even though I knew St. Paul’s had survived, I thought … I mean, I wasn’t thinking. It was such a shock, seeing it. I hadn’t realized St. Paul’s had ever been hit by an HE.”

“Two,” Eileen said.

Two? Mr. Humphreys had said one.

“The other one was in the transept,” Eileen said. “I don’t know when.”

“The north transept?” Polly asked, thinking irrelevantly of the memorial to Captain Faulknor. Mr. Humphreys would be so upset if that was destroyed.

“I don’t know which transept. Mr. Bartholomew didn’t say.”

Mr. Bartholomew? Who was Mr. Bartholomew? Had someone here at the concert told her about the bombing of the altar? If so, then it could still be a discrepancy.

“Mr. Bartholomew?” Polly asked.

“Yes, John Bartholomew. He gave a lecture about it when I was a first-year.”

Oh, thank goodness, it was someone from Oxford. “He’s a professor at Balliol?”

“No, an historian. He gave a lecture about his experiences on the St. Paul’s fire watch during the Blitz.”

“He’s here?” Polly grabbed Eileen’s arms. “Why didn’t you
say
something?”

“No, he’s not here
now
. He was here years ago.”

“In the Blitz. In 1940,” Polly said, and when Eileen nodded, “It doesn’t matter when he was here Oxford time. This is time travel. If he was here in 1940, he’s still here now.”

“Oh!” Eileen clapped her hand to her mouth. “I didn’t even think of that! Is that why you—?”

“How could you not
think
of it?” Polly burst out. “Mike asked us to try to think of any past historians who might be here,” she said, but even as she said it, she thought,
That was that day he came to Townsend Brothers, before he left for Beachy Head, and Eileen wasn’t there
. And immediately after that, all their attention had turned to Bletchley Park.

“Mike never said a
word
to me about past historians,” Eileen said defensively. “How—?”

“It doesn’t matter. Now that we know he’s here—”

“But he’s
not
. He was injured when the bomb fell on the altar and went back to Oxford.”

“How long after the bombing?”

“The next day.”

Which meant he’d gone back two weeks before Mike had found her and the two of them had found Eileen.

“Oh, if I’d only
realized
,” Eileen lamented.

“It wouldn’t have made any difference,” Polly said, sorry she’d upset her. “By the time we found one another and realized there was something wrong with our drops, it was already too late. He was already gone. You’re certain he went back on the eleventh?”

“Yes. I don’t remember very much about the lecture because it was on 1940, and the only part of World War II I wanted to go to at that point was VE-Day—”

So you didn’t pay attention, just as you didn’t pay attention to Gerald
, Polly thought bitterly. But that was unfair. Eileen could scarcely be expected to know that three years later the details of a first-year lecture would prove to be vitally important.

“—but I do remember Mr. Bartholomew talking about going back the morning after St. Paul’s was attacked,” Eileen went on. “Because I assumed it was because he was injured and needed medical attention.”

Like Mike
, Polly thought. Only no one had come to pull him out. “I don’t suppose he said where his drop was, did he?”

“No. But if he’s gone back, his drop wouldn’t be working now, would it?”

It might
, Polly thought, but she couldn’t tell Eileen that or she might begin questioning Polly about her earlier assignments. Might his drop have been in St. Paul’s?

No, not with people there all day and the fire watch there at night. She wondered suddenly if John Bartholomew had been in the cathedral that first day she’d gone there. He might very well have been that firewatcher she’d seen coming on duty as she left. Or one of the men out by the UXB.

If I’d known he was there, I could have gone back to St. Paul’s and told him I was in trouble as soon as I found out my drop wouldn’t open
, she thought,
and he could have got word to Mr. Dunworthy
 …

“Would it?” Eileen was asking. “Still be working? Mr. Bartholomew’s drop? I thought drops shut down when the historian returned and the assignment was over.”

“They do,” Polly said. Standing here was only going to get her into trouble. “It’s starting to rain again. We don’t want to get drenched.”

But Eileen made no move to leave the shelter of the porch. “You still haven’t told me about St. Paul’s. Nobody came in all morning who might have been the retrieval team?”

“No, there was scarcely anyone there at all, not even for the morning service.”

“The morning service?”

Polly nodded, glad she’d picked up that order of worship. “The place was almost completely deserted. Let’s go before it gets any worse.”

Eileen still didn’t budge. “You needn’t protect me, you know. I know this is my first assignment, but that’s no reason for you and Mike to treat me like a child. I know how much trouble we’re in—”

No, you don’t
, Polly thought.
You have no idea
.

“—and I know how dangerous it is here. You needn’t keep things from me.”

“No one’s keeping anything from you,” Polly said. “If this is about our not telling you about the historians who were here before, I intended to, but then you remembered Gerald was at Bletchley Park, and I didn’t think we’d need to find anyone else—”

“Then why have we been putting all those personal ads in the paper?” Eileen asked belligerently. “Why did you send me to the concert today and go to St. Paul’s?”

“As backup. In case Mike can’t find Gerald. Come along—”

Eileen shrugged off her hand. “Has something happened to Mike?”

“To Mike?”

“Yes. We haven’t heard from him in days.”

“No, nothing’s happened to Mike. He very likely doesn’t want to communicate any more than necessary so as not to arouse suspicions.”

“And you haven’t been in touch with him? You didn’t go meet him today?”

“Meet him?” Polly said, surprised. Was that why Eileen had been so upset since she got here? Because she thought Mike had returned and the two of them were meeting secretly?

“Yes, meeting him. Was that clipping Mike sent a signal the two of you’d arranged for you to go meet him?”

“No, of course not,” Polly said, and Eileen must have heard the bewilderment in her voice because she looked relieved. “Is that why you think I went to St. Paul’s, to meet Mike? I didn’t. I haven’t seen Mike since he said goodbye at the station weeks ago. I went to St. Paul’s to see if the retrieval team showed up in answer to our ad, that’s all. And I
nearly froze to death. I had to sit through an absolutely interminable sermon on the subject of ‘Seek and Ye Shall Find.’ ”

Eileen stiffened. “ ‘Seek and Ye Shall Find’?”

“Yes. It wasn’t nearly as good as the one your vicar gave that day I went to Backbury. And it was twice as long. You should be glad you didn’t come with me. We’ll go to St. Paul’s another day, when it’s warmer. Now come along. You’ll get soaked.” She took Eileen’s arm and propelled her across the wet square. “We’ll have a nice tea, and
no
cottage pie. Do you know, I think Mrs. Rickett makes hers from actual cottages.”

Eileen didn’t even crack a smile. “I don’t want tea,” she said, hugging her arms to herself against the cold. “I want to go home.”

MIKE STARED AT TENSING, STUNNED. “THIS IS THE CHAP
I was telling you about, Ferguson,” Tensing said. “The one who served as lookout for me when I was in hospital.”

“The American?” his companion said.

Christ, if he’d gone ahead with his plan to pose as an Englishman …

“Yes,” Tensing said. “I’d still be lying in that wretched hospital bed in Orpington if it weren’t for his unique talent for deception.”

“It’s a distinct pleasure to meet you, Mr. Davis,” Ferguson said, shaking Mike’s hand and then turning back to Tensing. “I do hate to hurry you, but we really should be going.”

Thank God he can’t stay and ask me what I’m doing here
, Mike thought,
because he’s obviously connected to Bletchley Park
. Mike suddenly remembered Sister Carmody saying that Tensing worked at the War Office. He should have realized he was in Intelligence.

“No, we’ve enough time,” Tensing said. “You go settle the bill while I catch up with Davis. This
is
lucky, running into you! I’m just on my way to London. I can’t believe you’re here in Bletchley, of all places. When did you get out of hospital?”

“September. Let me get you a chair,” Mike said, to stall.

“That’s all right, I’ll get it,” Tensing said, waving him back down and looking around for a vacant chair. “Hang on.”

Hang is exactly what I’ll do if I don’t come up with a plausible reason for being here
, Mike thought. “I’m here on special assignment” was out of the question.
Should I say I’m visiting a friend
?

Tensing was back with a chair. “Mavis told me there was an American here,” he said, sitting down, “but I never imagined it was you. I understand you had an unfortunate encounter with a bicycle. I must warn you, this place has some very bad drivers. But you still haven’t told me what brings you here. It’s not an assignment for your newspaper, I hope. Bletchley’s deadly dull, I’m afraid.”

“I’m finding that out. No, actually, I’m here about my foot. I came to see Dr. Pritchard,” he said, calling up the name of the doctor the old ladies on the train had said had a clinic in Newport Pagnell. “He has a clinic in Leighton Buzzard. He’s supposed to be an expert at reattaching tendons. I’m hoping he can fix me up enough to get back in the war.”

“A sentiment with which I can completely sympathize,” Tensing said. “I thought I’d go mad in hospital, listening to the bad news on the wireless day after day and not being able to do a damned thing about it.” He looked down at Mike’s newspaper. “Still interested in crosswords, I see.”

Mike shrugged. “It passes the time. As you say, Bletchley isn’t particularly exciting.”

Tensing nodded. “It’s a good deal like the sunroom. All that’s wanted is a potted palm and Colonel Walton, rattling his
Times
and harrumphing.” He tapped the crossword. “You were quite good at these, I recall.”

“As
I
recall, I had help.”

“Still, though, most Americans find our crosswords completely unintelligible.”

His tone had changed.
Did I say something to give myself away
? Mike wondered. What? He’d purposely said Dr. Pritchard was at Leighton Buzzard instead of Newport Pagnell to make it harder for Tensing to track the doctor down if he checked up on Mike’s story. Had Tensing by some horrible coincidence gone to see Dr. Pritchard, too?

No, Tensing had hurt his back, not his foot. But something had made him suspicious.

Could it be the crossword puzzle
? Mike wondered, remembering the story Polly’d told him about D-Day and the suspicious clues. Could Tensing suspect him of sending messages to the Germans?

But he was solving a crossword, not constructing one. And Tensing had seen him doing the same thing countless times in the hospital.

Ferguson was working his way back toward them between the tables. Good, this conversation couldn’t end too soon. “All set,” Ferguson said.

“In a moment,” Tensing said over his shoulder, and then to Mike, “Were you serious? About wanting to get into the war?”

I’m already in it
, Mike thought,
and can’t get out
. “Yes.”

“How long will you be here seeing this doctor—what was his name?”

“Pritchard,” Mike said. “I’m not certain. It all depends on what he says. He thinks I may have to have surgery.”

“But you’ll be here for a week at the least?”

So you can check and see whether I’ve been to see Dr. Pritchard, or if the
Omaha Observer
exists
? “Yes, I have another full month of treatments.”

“Good. I must go down to London for three or four days, but when I get back, there’s something I want to have a chat with you about. Where are you staying?”

“I haven’t found a room yet. Every place I’ve tried so far is full.”

“So you’re at the Bell?” Tensing said and thankfully didn’t wait for an answer. “Is this pub where you take your meals?”

Not after tonight
. “Usually, unless the doctor’s treatments go too long.”

“Good. I’ll see you when I return.” Tensing stood up. “It’s odd your happening to turn up here. Almost as if it was meant.” He turned to Ferguson. “Come on, let’s catch that train,” he said, and they left.

What the hell had just happened? Was Tensing suspicious, or did he just want to reminisce about their time together in the hospital? And if he
was
suspicious, what had given Mike away?

I need to talk to Polly
, he thought, but the only secure phone was at the station, and Tensing and Ferguson were on their way there. If they missed their train, he’d run smack into them.

Besides, Polly and Eileen wouldn’t be home. They’d be at the shelter.

He waited till the pub closed, then walked over to the station and called, hoping the all clear might have gone early, but it apparently hadn’t. They weren’t there.

They weren’t there the next morning either. Were there raids in London this week? He should have asked Polly. If there were, it could take all week to get them.