spent what was supposed to have been her half-day out soliciting for the saving-stamps drive or working on some other project Lady Caroline had devised for “assisting the war effort,” which somehow never involved her doing anything, only her servants.
If I don’t go through to Oxford soon, they’ll think something’s happened and send a retrieval team after me, Eileen thought. She needed to at least tell the lab why she hadn’t checked in, and perhaps persuade them to open the drop more often than one day a week. “Which means I need to finish hanging these wretched sheets before the Hodbins get home,” she said aloud to the portrait of an earlier Lady Caroline and her spaniels, and bent to take another sheet out of the basket.
The kitchen maid, Una, was standing in the door. “Who was you talking to?” she asked, peering between the hanging lines.
“Myself,” Eileen said. “It’s the first sign of going mad.”
“Oh,” Una said. “Mrs. Bascombe wants you.”
What now? I’ll never get away. She hastily hung up the last sheet and hurried down the back stairs to the kitchen.
Mrs. Bascombe was cracking eggs into a bowl. “Put on a fresh apron,” she said. “Her ladyship wants you.”
“But today’s my half-day out,” Eileen protested.
“Yes, well, you can leave after. Her ladyship’s in the drawing room.”
In the upstairs drawing room? That meant someone had come to take their child home. They’d been steadily shedding evacuees since Christmas. If many more departed, she’d have no one left to observe. Which was another reason she needed to go to Oxford today, to see if she could persuade Mr. Dunworthy into sending her somewhere else. Or cutting this assignment short and letting her go do the assignment she truly wanted: VE-Day. Eileen hurriedly tied on a fresh apron and started out of the kitchen.
“Wait,” Mrs. Bascombe said. “Take her ladyship’s nerve tablets with you. Dr. Stuart brought them round.”
The tablets were aspirin, which Eileen doubted would do much for Lady Caroline’s “nerves,” which in any case seemed to be mostly an excuse for insisting the evacuees be kept quiet. Eileen took the box from Mrs. Bascombe and hurried to the drawing room, wondering whose parents were here. She hoped not the Magruders: Barbara, Peggy, and Ewan were the only three well-behaved children left. All the other children had been hopelessly corrupted by Alf and Binnie.
Perhaps it’s their mother, she thought, brightening, but it wasn’t, nor was it the Magruders. It was the vicar, and she would have been glad to see him except that he’d probably come because the Hodbins had committed some new crime. “You asked for me, ma’am?” Eileen said.
“Yes, Ellen,” Lady Caroline said. “Have you ever driven an automobile?”
Oh, no, they stole the vicar’s car and wrecked it, Eileen thought. “Driven, ma’am?” she said cautiously.
“Yes. Mr. Goode and I have been discussing Civil Defence preparations, particularly the need for ambulance drivers.”
The vicar nodded. “In the event of a bombing incident or invasion—”
“We will need trained drivers,” Lady Caroline finished. “Do you know how to drive, Ellen?”
Except for chauffeurs, servants in 1940 hadn’t had occasion to drive, so it hadn’t been part of her prep. “No, ma’am, I’m afraid I never learned.”
“Then you shall. I’ve offered Mr. Goode the use of my Bentley to aid the war effort. Mr. Goode, you may give Ellen her first lesson this afternoon.”
“This afternoon?” Eileen blurted out, unable to keep the dismay out of her voice, and then bit her lip. Nineteen-forties maids didn’t talk back.
“Is that inconvenient for you?” the vicar asked her. “I could just as easily begin the lessons tomorrow, Lady Caroline.”
“Absolutely not, Mr. Goode. Backbury may come under attack at any time.” She turned to Eileen. “When it comes to the war, we must all be prepared to make sacrifices. The vicar will give you your lesson as soon as we’ve finished here. And then you’ll stay to tea, won’t you, Vicar? Ellen, tell Mrs. Bascombe that Mr. Goode is staying to tea. And tell her she and Mr. Samuels will have their lessons after tea. You may go.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Eileen curtseyed and ran back down to the kitchen. Now she really needed to go to the drop. It was one thing to not know how to drive, and another thing to be completely unfamiliar with 1940s automobiles. She needed to get some advance prep. She wondered if she should try to make it to the drop and back before the lesson. If she knew Lady Caroline, they’d be