crisscrossing searchlights. Which meant if the Luftwaffe would kindly keep this up for a few more minutes, she could go home to supper. And—finally—get her black skirt.
And a new pair of stockings. That last crawling scramble can’t have done them any good. And I’ll make Badri find me a new drop that isn’t so uncomfortable to wait in, she thought, sitting down on the second-from-the-bottom step.
And a drop that wasn’t so difficult to get to. This one might still be working, but it would be effectively nonfunctional most of the time, between sightseers gawking at the incident site and children scrambling over it searching for shrapnel, followed by construction workers and bulldozers swarming over the mound, clearing the site. And overly conscientious air-raid wardens checking for looters.
She hoped it wouldn’t take Badri and his techs as long as last time to find another site. Having days—or God forbid—weeks between encounters that to the contemps were only hours apart caused all sorts of problems. She was likely to forget the names of the people at St. George’s or Miss Snelgrove’s instructions on filling up purchase-on-account slips.
But I’ll have time to learn how to wrap parcels, she thought. And to eat some decent meals.
She wished the drop would open soon. The fires might be giving the sky a warm orangey glow, but the cement step she was sitting on was even colder than the alley had been.
I need to get a warmer coat as well, she thought, pulling on her gloves. She’d opted for a light one since she would only be here through part of October, but she hadn’t thought about needing to sit in the drop, and the autumn of the Blitz had been one of the coldest and wettest on record.
It had to be getting near the half-hour mark—it felt as if she’d been sitting here for hours. Which means it’s probably been ten minutes, she thought wryly, resisting the impulse to look at her watch. She knew all too well how slowly time moved when one was waiting for one’s drop to open. That night in Hampstead Heath, it had seemed to take hours.
She waited what seemed like another quarter of an hour, pulled her sleeve back to look at her watch, and then stopped, frowning. She could scarcely see her sleeve or the door in front of her. Oh, no. Was the raid letting up? If it was, the shimmer would be visible, and if anyone came out to check for incendiaries, the drop wouldn’t be able to open. She went down the darkened passage to see.
The raid was still in full cry. The flares had stopped and the fire to the east had died down, which was why there was less light in the passage, but there were several fires to the north now, one close enough that she could see flames. There was a steady succession of shuddering explosions.
She looked at her watch, which here at the edge of the mound was light enough to read even without the radium dial. It read ten to ten, but she realized she had no idea what time she’d reached the drop. She’d left the alley a short time after 8:55, but it had taken her forever to get across the mound.
But she’d been able to see into the passage for at least part of that and hadn’t seen any shimmer, and it had taken her several minutes to inspect the well for damage. And her foot had had time to fall asleep while she sat there on the steps. Even allowing for how slowly time went when one was waiting, half an hour had to have passed.
Polly scampered back to the well, afraid the drop would open before she got back, and in her haste scraped against one of the barrels, snagging her skirt.
I hope Mr. Dunworthy’s not in the lab when I arrive, she thought, hurrying down the three steps. He’ll think I’m an incident victim and cancel my assignment on the spot. Perhaps I should go to St. George’s and go through tomorrow after I’ve had a chance to tidy up.
But she’d already waited too long to check in. And Miss Snelgrove would sack her if she showed up without a black skirt tomorrow. It had to be tonight. With luck, Mr. Dunworthy would be off in London again, and she could persuade Badri and Linna not to tell him what had happened.
Why wasn’t the drop opening? She pulled back her sleeve to look at