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And it looked as though it might take Mrs. Sadler that long to decide on a blazer. “No, I’m afraid that isn’t warm enough either,” she was saying. “Haven’t you anything heavier? A tweed, perhaps?”

Eileen went on yet another search, wishing Mrs. Sadler would make up her mind so she could get her purchases written up before Padgett’s closed. The air raids had been starting earlier and earlier this past week, and it was a long way to Stepney. And if she was forced to spend the night in town, Theodore would have to stay next door with Mrs. Willett’s neighbor, and Eileen didn’t trust her to take him out to the Anderson.

She’d had to stay in Padgett’s shelter the night before last, and when she reached home, Theodore’d told her they’d spent the night at Mrs.
Owens’s kitchen table playing cards. “She’s teaching me to play gin rummy,” he reported proudly. “And when the bombs get very bad, we hide in the cupboard under the stairs,” and when Eileen had confronted her, Mrs. Owens had said, “That cupboard’s safer than a bit of tin, I don’t care what the government says.”

Eileen hoped Alf and Binnie’s mother didn’t have the same cavalier attitude toward shelters. Whitechapel was bombed nearly every night. She hoped she’d done the right thing in not giving Mrs. Hodbin the vicar’s letter. It was too late to give it to her now. After the
City of Benares’s
sinking, they’d suspended overseas evacuations, and she’d heard on the wireless this week there was a severe shortage of places for evacuees.

“No, this tweed’s much too rough,” Mrs. Sadler said. “Roland is extremely sensitive.”

Sensitive, my foot
, Eileen thought.

“Haven’t you anything in camel’s hair?”

The closing bell rang while Eileen was searching for it.
Thank goodness
, she thought, but Mrs. Sadler remained oblivious, even though all around them customers were departing and shop assistants were covering their counters and putting on their coats and hats.

“I’m afraid Padgett’s is closing, ma’am,” Eileen said. “Would you like me to send the things you’ve purchased thus far and decide on a blazer tomorrow?”

“No, that won’t do at all,” Mrs. Sadler said. “Roland leaves next Thursday, and if it should need to be altered…”

Eileen’s supervisor, Miss Haskins, hurried up. “Is there a problem, Mrs. Sadler?”

Thank goodness
, Eileen thought.
Tell her the store is closing
, but Mrs. Sadler had already launched into the tale of her decision to evacuate Roland to Scotland. “Everyone said I should send him to the country, but what’s to keep the Germans from bombing Warwickshire as well as London? I want to know that he’s truly safe. In my opinion, the Queen’s simply being foolhardy not to send the Princesses to Scotland. After all, one must put the safety of one’s children first, no matter how painful the separation may be.”

“Painful” is the word
, Eileen thought. Roland had taken the opportunity of his mother’s not watching him to pinch Eileen hard on the arm.

“… so you can see how important it is I complete Roland’s shopping today,” Mrs. Sadler was saying.

“Yes, of course. Miss O’Reilly, you don’t mind staying, do you?” Miss Haskins didn’t wait for an answer. “Miss O’Reilly will be happy to assist
you,” she said, and to Eileen, “Remember to switch off the lights in your department when you leave.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Eileen said. Miss Haskins left, and a moment later, the lights on the rest of the floor went off, leaving Children’s Wear a small island of light.

Eileen managed to fight Roland into the camel’s hair blazer without suffering further injury. “It’s an excellent fit,” she said, neatly dodging Roland’s aimed foot. “And very warm—” She stopped and listened as a siren sounded.

“It
is
a good fit…” Mrs. Sadler said consideringly.

Eileen was constantly amazed at the coolness of Londoners during raids. They didn’t seem at all bothered by the sirens or the sound of the anti-aircraft guns, and when they went to the shelters, they strolled along as though they were window-shopping. Her first few days in London, Eileen had thought it was because they’d had more experience with them than she had. “You’ll get used to them soon,” Theodore’s mother had said when she flinched at the crump of the bombs, but she still panicked every time she heard the sirens, even when she knew she wasn’t in any danger, like here in Padgett’s.

“Madam, the sirens have gone,” she said, looking up at the ceiling. She thought she could hear the faint buzz of planes.

Roland apparently heard them, too. “Mummy, listen,” he said, tugging at Mrs. Sadler’s arm. “Bombers.”

“Yes, dear. And I
do
like it, but I don’t know…”

It was obvious why it had taken Mrs. Sadler over a year to evacuate her son. She’d obviously dawdled over that decision the way she was dawdling now over this blazer.
You accused the Queen of being foolhardy
, Eileen thought.
What would you call this? For all you know, Padgett’s could be bombed at any moment
.

“Madam, we can’t stay here,” she said. “It’s not safe.”

“The question is, will it be warm enough?”

For goodness’ sake, he’s not going to Antarctica
.

“But it is the best we’ve seen… Very well, I’ll take it.”

Thank goodness
. “Excellent, madam. I’ll have it and your other purchases sent round first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Perhaps it would be best if I took them with me.”

No, no
, no.
If you take them, they’ll need to be wrapped, and those are definitely planes
.

“You’re certain they’ll be delivered by tomorrow morning?” Mrs. Sadler was saying. “Roland—”

Is leaving for Scotland on Thursday. I know
. “Absolutely certain, madam. I’ll see to it personally.” She walked them over to the lifts, where the lift operator was waiting impatiently, then dashed back to her counter, wrote up the sales slip, pinned it to the stack of clothes, and started into the storeroom with them.

Oh, no, here they came again. “Did you forget something, Mrs. Sadler?” Eileen asked.

“No, I decided I want to see Roland in the blazer and the woolen waistcoat. It will be very cold in Scotland. Roland, unbutton your coat.”

“I won’t,” Roland said.

“I know you’re tired, darling,” Mrs. Sadler said, “but we’re nearly finished.”

Truer words
, Eileen said silently, glancing nervously up at the ceiling. The planes sounded very close, and it was a long way from here to the tube station.

Where is the retrieval team?
she thought for the thousandth time since she’d arrived in London.
If they don’t get here soon, there’ll be nothing left for them to retrieve
.

“Won’t you please put the blazer on for Mother?” Mrs. Sadler said. “There’s a good boy.”

He was anything but. He twisted his head violently as Eileen attempted to put the waistcoat on him and, when she held out the blazer, folded his arms belligerently across his chest. “I don’t like her,” he said. “She twisted my arm before.”

You little liar
, Eileen thought, wishing Alf and Binnie were here. “I’ll be very careful,” she said, and, under her breath, “Hold your arm out before I break it.”

He promptly extended it and she got the blazer on him.

“There. It’s a perfect fit.”

“You’re quite right. It is.” Mrs. Sadler stood back, looking doubtfully at him. “But now that I see them together, I don’t know…”

“I could hold them for you,” Eileen said before she could ask to see anything else.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said doubtfully. “I
had
hoped to finish his shopping today… but if you haven’t any brown… yes, I think having you hold them will be best.”

Thank God
, Eileen thought, even though it meant she’d have all this to do again tomorrow. She unblazered and unwaistcoated Roland, forgetting in her eagerness to have them gone to watch out for him. He
stomped down hard on her instep, and when she yelped, said innocently, “Oh, did I tread on your foot? I
am
sorry.”

“Come, Roland,” Mrs. Sadler said. “We must hurry.”

She’s finally noticed we’re in the middle of a raid
, Eileen thought,
and about time
. The searchlights had gone on, and the anti-aircraft guns were starting up.

“Do hurry, darling. We must go to Harrods and see what they have.”

Harrods is closed
, Eileen thought, but she wasn’t about to say that, or anything else that might delay them. She saw them to the lift again, and then hobbled over to switch off the department’s lights, wondering if Roland had broken her foot.

And just when I need to make a run for the tube shelter
, she thought, limping back to her department. Another gun, nearer than the last, began firing, and she heard an explosion.

If I don’t leave soon, I’ll have to spend the night here again
. And perhaps that would be best. The planes sounded as if they were headed straight for Oxford Street, and at least she was safe here in Padgett’s. She scooped up the blazer and waistcoat, dumped them in the storeroom, and covered her counter.

And heard voices from over by the lifts.
Oh, no
, Eileen thought.
They’re back again
. She quickly switched off the lamp on her counter and ducked into the storeroom. She wouldn’t put it past Mrs. Sadler to send Roland in here to look for her. She limped to the back and hid behind the last row of shelves, straining to hear above the increasing drone of the planes.

The voices were coming closer.
I am
not
going out there, no matter what
, she thought. She pressed herself into the corner and prepared to wait them out.

FOR AN ENDLESS MINUTE STANDING THERE IN PADGETT’S
, Polly couldn’t absorb what Michael Davies was saying or even the fact that he was there, she’d been so focused on finding Merope. She simply stood there gaping at him while he shook her arm and shouted that they had to get out of there.

“What are you doing here?” she managed finally. “Why aren’t you at Pearl Harbor?”

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later. The question is, what are
you
doing here? Didn’t you hear the sirens? Come on!”

You’re the retrieval team
, she thought, dazed.
You’re finally here
. She felt suddenly light and buoyant, as if an enormous weight she hadn’t known she was carrying had been lifted. “Oh, my God, Michael, I…” she stammered, “I am
so
glad to see you!”

“You’re
glad?” An anti-aircraft gun started up. “Listen, we can’t stay here. We’ve got to get to shelter. Does this store have one?”

“Yes, but we can’t use it. It was demolished.”

“Demolished? What do you—?”

“Padgett’s is going to be bombed tonight.”

“Tonight?
What time?”

“I don’t know. At some point during one of the first raids.”

“Then let’s get out of here,” he said and began pulling her back toward the stairwell.

“No! We’ve got to find Merope first.”

“Merope?
What’s she doing here? She was supposed to have gone back ages ago.”

“I don’t know, but she works here on this floor. In Notions.” She wrenched free of him and ran across the darkened floor, calling, “Eileen!”

There she was, standing next to a counter. “Merope!” Polly cried, but it wasn’t her—it was a mannequin, draped in lengths of fabric, her hands modishly posed. Polly raced past her, past bolts of fabric and rows of sewing machines, looking for Notions.

And this was obviously it—here was the buttons cabinet and the threads case—but the counter was shrouded, like all the others, in green baize, and its counter lamp was switched off. “Merope? Eileen? Are you here?” she called, but there was no answer, no movement. “She’s not here,” she reported to Michael as he came up.

He was limping. “What happened?” she asked. “Did you hurt your foot?”

“Yes, but not recently. I’ll tell you later. Right now we need to get out of here.”

“Not without Merope.”

“Who told you she worked here?”

“A girl I work with. Why?”

“Because I’ve been here the whole afternoon, looking for you, and I didn’t see her.”

“But—you looked on this floor? Here in the notions department?”

“Yes. She wasn’t here.”

“She might have been on her tea break or—”

“No, I was here over an hour. And then I stationed myself where I could watch the staff entrance when the store closed. That was what I was doing when I spotted you. She didn’t come out the staff entrance.”

“Then she must still be here. She must work in some other part of the store,” Polly said, even though Marjorie’d said she was certain about her working in Notions. On third. “Or she may have been sent to another floor to fill in.”

“Even if she was, she’d have left by now.” He looked up at the ceiling. “We’ve got to get out of here. Listen to those planes. They’ll be here any minute—”

“Not till we’ve searched the other floors.”

“We don’t have time—”

“We will if we split up. You go back down to first and work your way up, and I’ll—”

“Absolutely not. It took me almost a month to find you. We’re not getting separated again. Come on.” He grabbed her arm and hurried her across the floor. “We’ll take the elevator.”

“You mean the lift?” Polly said. “But—”

“Don’t worry, I know how to run it. That’s how I got up here.” He pushed her into the open lift.

“But they aren’t supposed to be used during raids.”

“The raid hasn’t started yet.” He pulled the metal grille across and reached for the lever. “Which floor?”

She looked up at the numbers above the door. “The top one. Seven. We’ll work our way down.”

“Along with the bombs,” he said, yanking the lever across. The car began to ascend. “Seven’s nothing but offices. We’ll start with six.”

She nodded, watching the arrow creep past four to five and then six. “Do you remember what was on six?”