All Clear by Connie Willis Page B

and given them the message, that would mean Mr. Dunworthy had known for
years
that all this was going to happen and not only allowed it to but arranged it. Arranged for Mike to go to Dunkirk, for Eileen to go to a manor where the evacuees had the measles, had manipulated and lied to all of them from the moment they entered Oxford.
    It’s impossible
, she told herself.
    But even as she thought it, she was remembering.
He made me bring extra money, he made me learn the raids through December thirty-first. He insisted I work in a department store that was never hit during the entire Blitz
. And if they
had
managed to get a message through, then he’d have known they were pulled out in time and that they weren’t in any actual danger.
    But if Mr. Dunworthy
had
lied, then why hadn’t he sent Mike to Dunkirk in the first place instead of scheduling him to do Pearl Harbor and letting him get his L-and-A implant? And why had Linna and Badribeen questioning everyone about increased slippage if they already knew about it?
    Mike still wasn’t back by the twelfth, and they’d had no word from him. It hadn’t taken him this long when he went to Biggin Hill.
    What if he went to Coventry without telling us
? Polly thought, looking over at the lifts from her stocking counter, hoping one would open and Mike would emerge.
    One of them finally did, but it wasn’t Mike. It was Eileen. “I came for two reasons,” she said. “I’m determined to have the name of Gerald’s airfield for Mike when he gets back from Beachy Head, so I came to tell you I’m going to go scour the secondhand bookshops for an old ABC or a book about the RAF or
something
with airfield names, and I wanted to make certain there weren’t any raids in Charing Cross Road today.”
    “There aren’t any daytime raids anywhere in London today,” Polly reassured her.
    “Oh, good. I’m sorry I’m such an infant about them—”
    “It’s not being an infant to be frightened of someone who’s trying to kill you,” Polly said. “You said you had two reasons for coming?”
    “Yes. I wanted to tell you I found out why Lady Caroline didn’t write. I got another letter from Mrs. Bascombe. Lady Caroline’s husband was killed.”
    “Oh, dear. Had you met him?”
    “No, Lord Denewell worked in London at the War Office, and the house he was staying in was bombed—”
    “Lord Denewell? You worked for
Lady Denewell
?”
    “Yes, at Denewell Manor. Why? Is something wrong? Did you meet Lord Denewell?”
    “No. Sorry. I saw Miss Snelgrove looking this way. Perhaps you’d better go—”
    “I will. I only wanted to ask you if you thought it would be all right for me to send her a letter of condolence? I mean, with my being a servant and everything. I’m afraid she’ll think I’m acting above my place, but—”
    Polly cut her off. “Miss Snelgrove’s coming. We’ll discuss it tonight. Go look for your ABC.”
    Eileen nodded. “I won’t come back till I have either a list of airfields or a map in hand.”
    She started toward the lifts. “Wait,” Polly said, running after her. “If you have to ask for a map, tell them you want it for your nephew who’s interested in planespotting. That way they won’t be suspicious.”
    “Planespotting … I never thought of that,” Eileen said. “Polly, listen,I’ve just had an idea—uh-oh, Miss Snelgrove at eleven o’clock,” she whispered. “I’ll see you tonight.” And she hurried off.
    “Miss Sebastian,” Miss Snelgrove said.
    “Yes, ma’am. I was only—”
    “Miss Hayes will be returning to work today, and I’d like you to be here to assist her, so if you wouldn’t mind waiting to take your lunch break till two—”
    “I’m happy to,” Polly said, and meant it. Marjorie was coming back to work. Polly’d been afraid she’d been too traumatized by her experience to stay in London, but she was coming back.
    And when she arrived, she was nearly her old rosy-cheeked self.
I was right
, Polly