Blackout

London-25 October 1940

MARJORIE STEPPED OFF THE LIFT AND STARTED ACROSS the floor toward Polly, who was still putting on her coat. “Marjorie!” Polly breathed and ran over to her.

Doreen got there first. “When did you get out of hospital?” she was asking. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Marjorie ignored Doreen. “Oh, Polly!” she said. “I’m so glad to see you!” She looked dreadful, thin and with dark shadows under her eyes, and when Polly embraced her, she flinched. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m afraid I’ve got four broken ribs.”

“And no business being here,” Polly said. “You don’t look as though you should even be out of hospital.”

“I’m not,” Marjorie said and laughed shakily.

Miss Snelgrove came over. “What are you doing here, Marjorie? Your doctor should never have allowed-”

“He didn’t,” Marjorie said. “I… it was my idea to come.” She put her hand to her forehead, swaying slightly.

“Miss Sebastian, fetch her a chair,” Miss Snelgrove ordered, and Polly started toward her counter, but Marjorie clutched her sleeve.

“No, please, Polly,” she pleaded. “Stay with me.”

“I’ll fetch it,” Doreen volunteered.

“Thank you,” Marjorie said, still holding on to Polly. Doreen left, and Marjorie turned to Miss Snelgrove. “Could you possibly go tell Mr. Witherill I’m here? I’d intended to go up to Personnel to speak to him about coming back, but I’m afraid I’m not feeling-”

“You mustn’t worry over that,” Miss Snelgrove said kindly. “I can assure you your place will be here whenever you’re ready to return.” Doreen brought the chair, and Marjorie sank into it. “And you’re to take as much time as you need.”

“Thank you, but if I could just speak to Mr. Witherill-”

“Certainly, my dear.” Miss Snelgrove patted her hand and started toward the lifts.

“What did you do to her?” Doreen said, looking wonderingly after her. “She’s been an absolute bear these last few weeks.” She turned to Marjorie. “You still haven’t told us what you were doing in Jermyn Street.”

“Doreen, could I possibly have a glass of water?” Marjorie said faintly. “I’m sorry to be such a bother…”

“I’ll bring it straightaway,” Doreen said and scurried off.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have come,” Polly said, concerned.

“I had to.” She clutched Polly’s arm. “I sent her for the water so I could speak to you alone. I’ve been so worried. Did you get into trouble?”

“Trouble?”

“Because I wasn’t here to tell Miss Snelgrove you weren’t coming in,” she said, near tears. “I’m so sorry. I only remembered this morning. I heard two of the nurses talking, and one of them said she needed to leave early and asked the other to cover for her, and I thought, Oh, no, I was supposed to cover for Polly if she wasn’t back on time Monday. I came as soon as I could. I had to sneak out of hospital-”

“It’s all right,” Polly said. “You mustn’t upset yourself. Everything’s fine.”

“Oh, then you did make it back in time for work on Monday.” Color flooded back into her cheeks, and she looked so relieved Polly didn’t have the heart to tell her she hadn’t. “I was so afraid Miss Snelgrove would sack you.”

She’d have liked to, Polly thought. “No, I wasn’t sacked.”

“And your mother was all right?”

Polly nodded.

“Oh, good,” Marjorie said. “I was so worried that you’d had to stay and I’d let you down.”

“You let me down?” Polly said. “I let you down. I thought you’d gone to Bath. I should have known you wouldn’t leave London without telling me. I should have told the authorities you were missing. I should have made them look-”

Marjorie was shaking her head. “They couldn’t have found me. I didn’t tell anyone where I was going.”

“Where were you going?” Polly asked, and then regretted it because Marjorie looked stricken. “It’s all right,” she said hastily. “You needn’t talk about it if you don’t want to.” She looked over at the lifts. “I can’t imagine what’s taking Doreen so long with the water. I’ll go see what’s keeping her.”

“Thank you. Did your friend find you?”

Polly froze. “My friend?”

“Yes. She came the day you were gone. Eileen O’Reilly-”

Merope. They’d sent Merope. Of course. She not only knew Polly, she knew the historical period. But how ironic. While Merope’d been here looking for her, she’d been up in Backbury looking for her. “She said you were at school together,” Marjorie said.

At school. “We were,” Polly said. “She came in the Saturday I was gone?” That had been nearly four weeks ago.

“Yes. I told her you’d be back on Monday,” Marjorie said. “Didn’t she come in?”

“No. What else did she say?”

“She asked if you worked here, and I said yes, and she asked where she could find you.”

“What did you tell her?”

“She was so anxious to contact you, I told her you’d gone to Northumbria to visit your mother.”

And Merope, hearing the explanation the lab had them use to cover their disappearance at the end of an assignment, must have concluded she’d already gone back through to Oxford, and that was the reason Merope hadn’t come back on Monday.

“She gave me her address,” Marjorie said, “but I’m afraid I haven’t got it. I’d put it in my pocket, and when they rescued me, they had to cut my clothes off because of all the blood… The nurse said they had to be discarded.”

“And you don’t remember the address?”

“No,” she said, looking stricken again. “It was in Stepney. Or Shoreditch. Somewhere in the East End. I only glanced at it, you see. I intended to give it to you on Monday morning. I remember where she said she works, though.”

“Works?” Polly said bewilderedly.

“Yes, because it’s here on Oxford Street, too. Padgett’s.”

“Here,” Doreen said, hurrying up with a glass of water. “Sorry, I had to go up to the lunchroom for it, and when I told them it was for you they wanted to know how you were doing.” She handed it to Marjorie. “You’ve got to tell us what happened. We all thought you’d done a flit, didn’t we, Polly? Why did you go without-?”

“Marjorie,” Polly cut in, “are you certain she said Padgett’s?”

“Yes, she said she worked on-” She glanced over at the lifts. Miss Snelgrove and Mr. Witherill were emerging from the center one. They’d be here in another moment.

“She worked on-” Polly prompted.

“On the third floor. In Notions. I remember, because it was the same as our floor, and when I first came to Townsend Brothers, that’s the department I-”

“Miss Hayes,” Mr. Witherill said, coming over to Marjorie, “on behalf of Townsend Brothers, allow me to welcome you back.”

“I assured her her position would be here whenever she’s ready to return,” Miss Snelgrove said.

Polly edged away from them, trying to make sense of what Marjorie had just told her. It had to have been a cover story. Mr. Dunworthy would never have allowed Merope to work in a department store on the forbidden list even for the few days it took to locate Polly. She’d only said it to establish a bond with Marjorie, and the East End address was where she and the new drop site really were.

But that made no sense. The East End was just as dangerous as Padgett’s. And when Merope’d found out she hadn’t gone back through to Oxford, why hadn’t she come back to Townsend Brothers?

Unless she wasn’t part of a retrieval team at all. Unless her drop hadn’t opened either, and she’d come to London to find Polly, just as Polly had gone to Backbury to find her. And when she said she was living in Shoreditch and working at Padgett’s, she was telling the truth.

At Padgett’s, which had been hit-oh, God, tonight. And there’d been casualties.

I’ve got to find her and get her out of there, Polly thought, starting blindly for the lift. But it was up on sixth. She looked back over at Miss Snelgrove. At any moment she and Mr. Witherill might look up and see her leaving. Polly walked swiftly over to the door to the stairs, pushed through it, and ran down the three flights of stairs and outside.

It was raining hard, but she didn’t have time to button her coat or even pull up her collar. She ran bareheaded toward Padgett’s, fighting her way through people coming out of the shops, pushing past umbrellas and people hurrying head-down against the rain and not looking where they were going. If only she’d researched exactly what time Padgett’s had been hit…

But I didn’t think I’d be here then, she thought, sidestepping a pram and trying to remember what she’d read about Padgett’s. There’d been three casualties, and the reason for that was that it had been hit early, during the first raid. And the raids tonight had begun at 6:22. Which meant the sirens might go any moment.

Two more blocks, she thought, splashing across a street, and the sirens went. People began heading for shelter. Polly zigzagged through them and arrived at Padgett’s entrance. A doorman stood under the pillared porch, arguing with a woman and a small boy.

“Hail me a taxi at once,” the woman was ordering the doorman.

“The sirens have gone, madam,” he said. “You and your son need to take shelter. Ow!” he yelped as the boy kicked him in the shins.

Polly darted past them to the revolving door and pushed on it, but it wouldn’t budge. “Sorry, miss,” the doorman said, turning from the woman. “Padgett’s is closed.”

“But I’m supposed to meet a friend here,” Polly said, trying to peer through the door into the store. “She-”

“She’ll have gone,” he said. “And, as I was telling this lady, you need to take shelter-”

“I know, but I’m not looking for a customer. My friend’s employed here. On third. She-”

“I must get to Harrods before it closes,” the woman cut in, and the little boy pulled his foot back for another kick.

The doorman sidestepped quickly and said to Polly, “You want the staff entrance.”

“Where’s that?”

“I insist you obtain a taxi for me immediately,” the woman said. “My son is leaving for Scotland on Thursday, and it’s essential he be properly outfitted-”

Polly couldn’t wait to find out where the staff entrance was. She ran down to the side of the building and around to the rear, looking for it. Shopgirls were coming out, hesitating in the doorway to see how hard it was raining and to open their umbrellas, looking anxiously up at the sky at the planes, which sounded as if they were coming closer.

“How tiresome!” one of them said as Polly darted past her. “I wanted to buy a chop for my tea on the way home. Now it will have to be shelter sandwiches. Again. Doesn’t Jerry ever take a night off?”

Townsend Brothers’ staff entrance was guarded, but Padgett’s didn’t seem to be, thank heavens. Polly pushed past the shopgirls and their umbrellas to the entrance and slipped through the door.

And collided with a guard standing just inside. “Where are you going?” he demanded.

She’d have to pretend she worked here. “I forgot my hat,” she said, hurrying past him as if she knew where she was going. She couldn’t see any stairway, only a long corridor lined with doors. Which one led to the stairs?

“Here, wait!” the guard said behind her, and the last door on the left opened, revealing a stairway and, at its foot, two young women, pulling on their gloves. Polly ducked past them through the door and ran up the stairs. As the door swung shut, she heard the guard shout, “Here! Where do you think you’re going?” and then the sound of footsteps running awkwardly after her. She raced up the stairs past the door marked Mezzanine, and up to first. He’d be coming any second. She opened the door to first and ran out onto the floor, hoping there was no one still here.

There wasn’t. The lights had been switched off and the display cases covered for the night. Polly dived behind the nearest counter and crouched there, watching the door to the stairs. After a moment, it opened and she could hear footsteps. She pressed closer behind the counter, holding her breath, and the footsteps retreated and the door closed.

She waited another long minute, listening. She couldn’t hear anything but the hum of the planes, still distant but moving steadily closer. She looked over at the lift. She could operate it-she’d watched the lift boys at Townsend Brothers do it-but the dial above its door said it was on Ground. It couldn’t come up to first without an operator. And if she went back to the stairs, and the guard had gone on up the stairwell, she’d run straight into him.

She ran across the floor, hoping there was another stairway on the far side, and there was. She darted up them, counting floors. One and a half. Two. No, mezzanine. Mezzanine and a half. Two. Why couldn’t Merope have worked on the ground floor?

The drone of the planes was substantially louder. She hoped the sound was being somehow magnified by the narrow stairwell. If it wasn’t… Two and two-thirds… three. She opened the door silently and peered out onto the floor. She couldn’t see any sign of the guard. Or of Merope anywhere on the darkened floor. The sound of the planes was less loud here than in the stairwell, but only marginally, and far off to the east Polly could hear the faint crump of a bomb.

She slipped through the door and started across the floor, looking for the notions department. “Merope!” she called. “Where are you?”

No answer. Polly remembered her saying she hadn’t recognized Polly calling her name that day in Oxford, and if anyone else was here, they’d know her by the name Eileen, too. “Eileen!”

Still no answer. She’s not here, Polly thought, running through the linen department. Or the planes are drowning out my voice. “Eileen!” she shouted more loudly. “Eileen O’Reilly!”

A hand clamped on her arm. Polly whirled, trying to think what excuse to give the guard. “I know you said the store was closed, but-” She stopped, her mouth open in astonishment.

It wasn’t the guard. It was Michael Davies.