Blackout. Part 46

She also asked a number of difficult-to-answer questions about which airfield Michael was stationed at, so when Eileen went to John Lewis, she said he'd been injured at Dunkirk.

The secretary there couldn't find Polly's name in the files either, and at Padgett's the secretary said, "I'm only temporary. I usually work in the perfume department, but Miss Gregory's secretary was killed, and I was called in to subst.i.tute, so I don't know about the personnel files, and Miss Gregory's not here just now. If you'd care to leave your name, I can have her ring you when she returns."

Eileen gave her her name and Mrs. Owens's telephone number and went back to Selfridges to ask the shopgirls in each department if they knew anyone named Polly Sebastian who worked on their floor, but none of them recognized the name. "She'd only just have started," she told one in the millinery department. "She has fair hair and gray eyes," but the young woman was shaking her head.

"They haven't hired anyone new since July," she said, "even though several girls have left, and now I doubt they will, what with the raids causing business to fall off."

Which presented a whole new problem-what if Polly had been unable to get hired on at any of the stores she'd mentioned? Presumably she'd have got a job at some other store. But which one? There were dozens of department stores and shops on Oxford Street. It would take weeks to search them all. Polly had said Mr. Dunworthy had insisted she work in one that hadn't been bombed, but except for the three she'd heard Polly mention, she had no way of knowing which ones those were. "Are you certain it was Padgett's and not Parson's?" the shopgirl was asking.

"Yes," Eileen said. "Her letter said she was coming to London to take a job at Padgett's."

"Did she say when? Perhaps she hasn't started yet."

She hadn't thought of that either. Polly might not even be here yet. Eileen didn't know how long the Blitz had lasted, but she thought it was several months, and Polly'd said her a.s.signment was only for a few weeks. She might not be coming till next week. Or next month.

"Are you all right, ma'am?" the shopgirl was asking.

No, Eileen thought. "Yes," she said, thanked her for her help, and started toward the lifts.

"I hope you find her," the shopgirl called after her.

I hope I find her soon, Eileen thought. She had only money enough for two or three more days' tube fares and meals, even if Theodore's mother let her stay on. "Stay as long as you like," she'd said, but she'd meant "till you find your cousin in a day or two," not weeks. soon, Eileen thought. She had only money enough for two or three more days' tube fares and meals, even if Theodore's mother let her stay on. "Stay as long as you like," she'd said, but she'd meant "till you find your cousin in a day or two," not weeks.

But if Polly wasn't here in 1940 yet or was working in one of the dozens of smaller shops, it might take much longer to find her. Eileen would have to find work. But doing what? Her only experience was as a servant, but going into service was the worst thing she could do. She'd have a half-day out at most and no freedom to come and go.

Perhaps I can get hired on at Lyons Corner House, she thought, but when she inquired there, the personnel office told her they were only hiring for the evening s.h.i.+ft, which meant she'd have to work during the raids, and she didn't know whether Lyons had been hit or not.

She spent the rest of the day searching Parson's, just in case that was the name Polly'd said, made a list of every shop and department store on Oxford Street so she could tick them off as she searched them, and then bought a newspaper and, on the train home to Stepney, circled all the Situations Vacant Situations Vacant ads with Oxford Street addresses. ads with Oxford Street addresses.

There were only four, and none were for Selfridges, Padgett's, or John Lewis. The best was Waitress wanted. Wisteria Tea Shoppe. 532 Oxford Street. 1 to 5 Waitress wanted. Wisteria Tea Shoppe. 532 Oxford Street. 1 to 5 P.M. P.M. s.h.i.+ft s.h.i.+ft. It was several blocks from the department stores, but only a few doors down from Marble Arch tube station, so if the raids began before her s.h.i.+ft ended, she could take shelter there. And the hours were perfect. She could spend all morning looking for Polly, work her s.h.i.+ft, and then go watch the staff entrances as the shopgirls left.

I'll take the earliest bus so I can be first in line, she thought as she walked to Theodore's house, but he met her at the door with, "A lady telephoned for you."

It's Polly, she thought. She went to Padgett's to apply, and Miss Gregory told her I'd been there and gave her my number She went to Padgett's to apply, and Miss Gregory told her I'd been there and gave her my number. "What was the name of the lady who rang up?" she asked.

"I don't know," Theodore said. "A lady."

"Did she leave her address, or a telephone number?"

Theodore didn't know that either. She took him next door to ask Mrs. Owens, thinking, Please don't have let Theodore have been the one who spoke to her Please don't have let Theodore have been the one who spoke to her, but Mrs. Owens had taken the call. "What a pity. You only just missed her."

"What did she say?" Eileen asked eagerly.

"Only that she wished to speak with you, and that you were to ring her at this number." She gave it to Eileen.

"May I use your phone to ring her? I'm afraid if I go down to the pillar box, Padgett's will have closed."

"Of course." Mrs. Owens showed her to the phone. "Theodore, come with me into the kitchen and have your tea."

Good, Eileen thought, giving the operator the number. With them not here in the room, I'll be able to ask Polly where her drop is With them not here in the room, I'll be able to ask Polly where her drop is. "Hullo, this is Eileen O'Reilly," she said.

"Yes, this is Miss Gregory from Padgett's Department Store. You left your name and number with us."

"That's right." Polly must be there in the office with her.

"I phoned to tell you that we have an opening in our sales staff."

"An opening?" Eileen said blankly.

"Yes, to start immediately. As a junior a.s.sistant in our notions department."

They were offering her a job. Miss Gregory must have found the card she'd left and thought it was an application. But she'd so hoped it was Polly, that she was on her way home. "Are you available, Miss O'Reilly?" Miss Gregory was asking.

Yes, she thought bitterly. But she couldn't afford to pa.s.s up this job. It was in one of the stores where Polly might already be working, and near the others, and even if Polly didn't work there, Eileen would be in the heart of Oxford Street and-on her lunch break-able to systematically go up one side of Oxford Street and down the other, searching every department store. "Yes," Eileen said. "I'd very much like the job."

"Excellent. Can you begin tomorrow morning?" Miss Gregory asked, and when Eileen said yes, told her when and where to report and what to wear.

"Are you going?" going?" Theodore asked, his voice rising threateningly when she rang off. Theodore asked, his voice rising threateningly when she rang off.

Not yet, Eileen thought. "No," she said, and smiled at him. "I'm going to stay here and work at Padgett's."

Is Your Journey Really Necessary?-MINISTRY OF TRANSPORT POSTER, 1940 1940

London-26 September 1940

POLLY'S RETRIEVAL TEAM STILL HADN'T COME BY THURSDAY night. night. I can't stand this waiting. I'll give it till Sat.u.r.day, and then I'm going up to Backbury I can't stand this waiting. I'll give it till Sat.u.r.day, and then I'm going up to Backbury, she thought, listening to Miss Laburnum and the others argue over which play to do.

Surprisingly, Sir G.o.dfrey had agreed to the idea of a full-scale theatrical production. "I'd be delighted to a.s.sist in such a worthy cause," he'd said. "We must do Twelfth Night Twelfth Night. With Miss Sebastian as Viola."

"Oh, I had my heart set on one of Barrie's plays," Miss Laburnum said.

"Perhaps Peter Pan," Peter Pan," Mrs. Brightford suggested. "The children could be in it." Mrs. Brightford suggested. "The children could be in it."

"Nelson could play Nana," Mr. Simms said.

Sir G.o.dfrey looked aghast. "Peter "Peter Pan Pan?"

"We can't," Polly said quickly. "We've no way to manage the flying."

Sir G.o.dfrey shot a grateful glance at her. "An excellent point. On the other hand, Twelfth Ni- Twelfth Ni-"

"It must be a patriotic play," Mrs. Wyvern said decisively.

"Henry V," Sir G.o.dfrey said. Sir G.o.dfrey said.

"No, not enough women. We must do a play with women in it so everyone in our little troupe can partic.i.p.ate."

"And with a dog," Mr. Simms said.

"Twelfth Night has lots of women," Polly said. "Viola, the Lady Olivia, Maria-" has lots of women," Polly said. "Viola, the Lady Olivia, Maria-"

"I think we should do the clock one," Trot said. think we should do the clock one," Trot said.

"What a good idea!" Miss Laburnum exclaimed. "We can do Barrie's A Kiss for Cinderella!" A Kiss for Cinderella!"

"Is there a part for a dog in it?" Mr. Simms asked.

"What about a murder mystery?" the rector said.

"The Mousetrap," Sir G.o.dfrey said dryly. Sir G.o.dfrey said dryly.

When I get to Backbury, I must tell Merope that Sir G.o.dfrey likes Agatha Christie, Polly thought, and then realized he was referring to Hamlet Hamlet. And probably plotting the murder of Miss Laburnum.

She half listened to them propose possible plays, trying to decide when to go. If she waited till after work on Sat.u.r.day, she wouldn't need to ask Miss Snelgrove for time off or run the risk of missing the retrieval team while she was gone. But she seemed to remember Merope saying her half-day off was Monday and that that was when she went through to Oxford to check in. If it took Polly longer than planned to get to Backbury, she ran the risk of Merope's not being there when she arrived.

Or not being there at all. Merope's a.s.signment had to be nearly over. What if she was going back for good on Monday? I'd better not wait till Sat.u.r.day night I'd better not wait till Sat.u.r.day night, Polly thought.

"I saw three copies of Mary Rose Mary Rose in a secondhand bookshop last week," Miss Laburnum said. "Such an affecting play... That poor boy, searching for his lost love those years..." She put her hand to her bosom. "I shall make an expedition to Charing Cross on Sat.u.r.day." in a secondhand bookshop last week," Miss Laburnum said. "Such an affecting play... That poor boy, searching for his lost love those years..." She put her hand to her bosom. "I shall make an expedition to Charing Cross on Sat.u.r.day."

And I shall make one to Backbury, Polly thought. I'll go Sat.u.r.day and come back Sunday I'll go Sat.u.r.day and come back Sunday.

She needed to find out about trains. It was too late to go to Euston to look at the schedule. The Underground trains had already stopped for the night. She would have to do it in the morning.

But when the trains began running again at half past six the next morning, there was a notice board saying the Central Line was out of service due to "damage on the line," so instead she had to ask Marjorie to watch her counter while she ran up to the book department and consulted an ABC railway guide.

The earliest train on a Sat.u.r.day was at 10:02, with connections at Reading and Leamington. It didn't get in to Backbury till... Oh, no, after ten o'clock at night. That meant she wouldn't be able to go to the manor till Sunday morning. And depending on how far from Backbury it was, it might take her the better part of the day to walk there and back.

And if Merope had already gone back, she couldn't afford to miss the return train. And, according to the ABC, the only one from Backbury on Sunday went at 11:19 A.M.

I shall to have to go tonight, she thought. If there's a train If there's a train.

There were three, the first one at 6:48. If I go straight to Euston from work, I should be able to make the 6:48 If I go straight to Euston from work, I should be able to make the 6:48, she thought, starting down to her counter to relieve Marjorie.

Marjorie. If Merope was in Backbury, Polly wouldn't be coming back, which meant that before she left she needed to buy Marjorie stockings to replace the ones she'd borrowed. But she hadn't enough money with her for them and her train fare. She'd have to go back to Mrs. Rickett's for Mr. Dunworthy's emergency money, and take the 7:55 instead, but that had a benefit. She'd be able to tell Mrs. Rickett where she was going. And if she was delayed for some reason, she could take the 9:03. instead, but that had a benefit. She'd be able to tell Mrs. Rickett where she was going. And if she was delayed for some reason, she could take the 9:03.

She hurried back to her counter. Marjorie was busy with a customer. Polly brought Doreen over to write up the purchase and, when Marjorie finished waiting on her customer, took the stockings over to her. "They're lovely," Marjorie said, "but it wasn't necessary for you to do that."

Yes, it is, Polly thought. You've no idea how scarce stockings are about to become. You may well have to make these last for the remainder of the war You've no idea how scarce stockings are about to become. You may well have to make these last for the remainder of the war.

"Thank you," Marjorie said. She leaned over the counter toward Polly. "You'll never you," Marjorie said. She leaned over the counter toward Polly. "You'll never guess guess who was here while you were gone," she whispered, and before Polly's heart could turn over, "The airman I told you about who's always after me to go out with him. Tom. He wanted me to go out dancing." who was here while you were gone," she whispered, and before Polly's heart could turn over, "The airman I told you about who's always after me to go out with him. Tom. He wanted me to go out dancing."

"And are you going?" Polly asked.

"No, I told you, he's terribly fast." She frowned. "Though perhaps I should have. As he said, in times like these people need to seize happiness while they can."

Which was also a very old line. "I need to ask you something," Polly said. "Is it Miss Snelgrove I need to speak to about getting tomorrow off, or Mr. Witherill?"

"A day off?" Marjorie echoed. She sounded horrified.

"Yes. I've had a letter from my sister, you see. My mother's ill, and I must go home."

"But you can't go tomorrow. Sat.u.r.day's Townsend Brothers' busiest day of the week. They'll never allow it."

It had never occurred to Polly that she might not be able to get the day off, especially with an excuse like an ailing mother. She could just leave, of course, but if Merope wasn't in Backbury, working here was her best chance of being found by the retrieval team.

"Miss Snelgrove's already had her quota of human kindness for the week," Marjorie was saying. "And Mr. Witherill will be convinced you're doing a flit." She looked at Polly sharply. "You're not, are you? Not that I'd blame you. Sitting in that horrid cellar last night, listening to the bombs, I thought, 'When the all clear goes, I'm going to go straight to Waterloo Station, take the train to Bath, and move in with Brenda.'"

"I'm not running away." Polly pulled out the letter from Props and handed it over, making certain Marjorie saw the Northumbria postmark on the envelope. "It's her heart. Surely if I tell Miss Snelgrove-"

But Marjorie was shaking her head. "Don't say anything to her or or Mr. Witherill," she ordered, handing the letter back. "Tomorrow morning, I'll say you rang me up and said you weren't feeling well. Will you be back by Monday?" Mr. Witherill," she ordered, handing the letter back. "Tomorrow morning, I'll say you rang me up and said you weren't feeling well. Will you be back by Monday?"

"Yes, unless..." Polly said hesitantly. She hated to get Marjorie into trouble if she didn't return.

"I'll cover for you Monday as well. If you need to stay on longer, you can always write from home and tell them."

"But what about tomorrow? You'll be left shorthanded."

"I'll manage. No one's buying girdles just now. They take too long to put on when there's a raid. Do you leave tonight?"

Polly nodded. "Thank you so much for covering for me. If anyone should come in asking for me, tell them I'll be back on Monday, or Tuesday at the latest."

Marjorie leaned confidingly on the counter. "Who is is this mysterious person you're always hoping will come in and ask for you? A man?" this mysterious person you're always hoping will come in and ask for you? A man?"

I don't know, Polly thought. It was likely the retrieval team would be female, but not certain.

"Is he a pilot?"

"No. A cousin of mine is coming to London and might look me up," she said and walked quickly back to her own counter before Marjorie could ask any more questions.

At a quarter past five, she began tidying up, hoping she might be able to leave early, but just before the closing bell Miss Snelgrove demanded to see her sales book.

Marjorie came over, already in her hat and coat. "I'm leaving now, Miss Snelgrove," she said, and turned to Polly. "Are you feeling all right? You look rather pale."

"I'm fine," Polly said, then realized Marjorie was attempting to help her set up her alibi for tomorrow. "It's only a headache, and my throat's been a bit sore this afternoon." She put her hand to her throat, but Miss Snelgrove didn't look impressed. Marjorie was right; she'd used up her quota of kindness for the week.

"Where is your sales receipt for Mrs. Scott?" Miss Snelgrove demanded.

Polly had wanted to say goodbye to Marjorie-it was, after all, the last time she might ever see her-but by the time Miss Snelgrove finished reprimanding Polly for smudging her carbons, she'd already gone, and it was probably for the best. Polly couldn't afford to have her ask what her "cousin"'s name-or gender-was. And at any rate, there was no time for goodbyes. It was already a quarter to six.

She had to leave. And to make the 6:48, she'd have to take a taxi to Mrs. Rickett's. If she could find one. There weren't any parked in front of Townsend Brothers or on the street. She finally ran the four blocks to Padgett's and had its doorman hail her one, but it took several minutes, and by the time they reached Mrs. Rickett's, it was twenty past. Polly told the cabbie to wait, and raced inside, hoping Miss Hibbard would be in the parlor so she wouldn't have to deal with either Mrs. Rickett or the talkative Miss Laburnum, but there was no one there, or in the dining room, though the supper dishes still lay on the table. The sirens must have gone early again-the raids tonight didn't start till nine.

She pelted up the stairs to her room to get her money, ran back downstairs, leaped in the taxi, and said, "Euston Station. And hurry. I've a train to catch."