scattered in it, but no debris, and none of the barrels had been knocked over. They—and the drop’s position in the recessed well—would both have helped protect the drop from blast.
If I can only get to it, she thought, testing the plaster-and-brick mass beyond the linoleum. It gave ominously under her foot. She needed something to walk on. Perhaps if she could shift the door in the direction of the drop…
But it was too heavy. So was the linoleum. She stood up and surveyed the mound, looking for a section of wall or a cupboard door she could use.
“You, there!” a man’s voice shouted. “What are you doing?” It was the ARP warden who’d dragged her to the shelter that first night. He was standing by the rope barrier, holding a pocket torch. “This incident’s off-limits.”
Polly wondered fleetingly if she should make a run for it. He’d have a hard time catching her in this rubble, and it was nearly dark. Which meant she was liable to fall through and break a leg. “Come down at once,” the warden said. He ducked under the rope, and started up onto the mound.
“I’m coming,” Polly said and started back toward the edge, picking her way carefully.
“What were you doing up there?” he demanded. “Didn’t you see the notice?”
“Yes,” Polly said, debating what to tell him. He didn’t seem to have recognized her. “I thought I heard a cat meowing.” She climbed down to where he was standing. “I was—” Her foot slid, and the warden put out a hand to catch her. “I was afraid it was trapped in the rubble.”
He looked worriedly past her. “You’re certain it was a cat and not someone calling for help?”
That was all she needed, for the warden to call a rescue crew and them to begin digging again. “Yes, I’m certain,” she said hastily, “and it wasn’t trapped after all. Just as I got to where the sound was coming from, it ran away.”
“This incident’s dangerous, miss. There’s a good many holes and weak patches out there. If you was to fall through, nobody’d know you was out there. They wouldn’t know to come looking for you. You could be out there for days, weeks even—”
“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”
“You shouldn’t be out this time of night,” he said. “The sirens will be going any minute.”
She nodded. He held up the rope barrier for her, and she ducked under it.
“You need to get to shelter, miss.” That was the same thing he’d said to her last Saturday, and the same thought must have occurred to him because he frowned at her.
“Yes, straightaway,” she said, ducked quickly under the rope barrier, and started rapidly up the street.
“Wait!” he shouted, and came after her. “Notting Hill Gate’s this way,” he said, reaching for her arm.
She eluded his grasp. “I live just up the street,” she said, pointing, hoping there hadn’t been an incident up that way as well.
There was a drone of planes off to the east. The warden looked up. Saved by the Luftwaffe, Polly thought, and walked off quickly in the direction she’d pointed.
“See that you go straight there,” the warden called after her.
“I will, warden,” she said and kept going, resisting the impulse to look back to see if he was following her. She crossed the street and the next and then ducked into an alley. From this distance it would look to the warden as if she’d turned down a side street. If he was still watching.
He was.
Go drag someone else off to St. George’s, she willed him, or go look for blackout infractions or something, but he continued to stand there in the dusk. What if he stood there all night?
He’ll have to leave when the raids begin and go look for incendiaries, she thought, retreating into the alley. The raids weren’t over Kensington tonight. They were over Bloomsbury and the East End. But as Colin had said, there were lots of stray bombs. She looked at her watch. A quarter to eight. Which meant she had over an hour to wait, and it was already frigid here in the alley.
If the warden would only leave, she could go to St. George’s and hide in the sanctuary till everyone was off the streets. It had to be warmer there than here. But the warden was still there, and it was already too dark down the alley to try to go that way. She’d crash into something and make the warden