“Seven and six?” Polly said. That was nothing at all. A pair of stockings cost three times that. “It can’t have—”
“She said she bought it at Bourne and Hollingsworth’s bomb sale. Water damage.” She handed it to Polly.
It was clearly not from a bomb damage sale. It was brand-new and spotless and, Polly guessed, had come straight from Townsend Brothers’ Better Ladies Wear department and cost five pounds at the least. Polly held the skirt in both hands, too overcome to speak. “Tell her it was very kind of her,” she said finally.
Marjorie nodded. “She can be almost human on occasion. But she’ll have my head if I stay down here any longer.” She took the skirt gently from Polly and draped it over a chair back. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Yes. Tell her I’m ready to come back to my counter.”
“I most certainly will not. You’re not thinking clearly and you’re still white as a sheet. And there’s no need for heroics. This is Townsend Brothers, not Dunkirk. Now, lie down.”
Polly did, and Marjorie tucked a blanket around her. “Now stay there.”
Polly nodded, and Marjorie stood up to leave. “Wait,” Polly said, grabbing her wrist, “if anyone asks for me, if they ask if I work here, you’ll tell them where I am?”
“Of course,” Marjorie said, giving her that odd look again.
“And you’ll ask Miss Snelgrove if I can come back to the floor this afternoon?”
“Not unless you promise to try to sleep,” Marjorie said and left. She was back in a few minutes with a sandwich and a glass of milk. “Miss Snelgrove says you’re to rest till three,” she said, “and then she’ll see. And you’re to eat something.”
“I will,” Polly lied. The thought of food made her ill. She lay back down and tried to sleep as ordered, but it was no use. What if the retrieval team didn’t ask Marjorie if she was there? What if they walked through the department, pretending to be browsing, and when they didn’t see her, concluded she didn’t work there and left? She flung off the blanket, got up, grabbed the skirt, and went into the ladies’ to tidy up.
And was horrified by the sight of herself in the mirror. No wonder Miss Snelgrove had given her a skirt. Hers was not only dirty and brick dust–covered, but one entire side was torn. She must have caught it on a jagged timber. And no wonder they were all being so nice to her—she looked ghastly. Her hair and face were white with plaster dust, and her cheeks streaked with tears. Blood from her knee had trickled all down her leg and clotted her torn stockings.
They both had wide ladders in them, and several holes. She washed the blood off, but they still looked dreadful, so she stripped them off and stuck them in her handbag. It would be all right—young women had gone bare legged because of the shortage of stockings.
But that was later on in the war, not in 1940. Marjorie was right, she wasn’t thinking clearly. She’d have to keep behind her counter and hope the customers didn’t notice. Her blouse wasn’t too bad. Her coat had partially protected it. She sponged the smears off as best she could, put on the new skirt, washed her face, and combed her hair. She needed to put on lipstick—she looked so white—but when she did, it simply made her look paler. She wiped most of it off and went back up to her counter.
“What are you doing here?” Marjorie said when she saw her. “It’s only two o’clock. You were to rest till three. Miss Snelgrove!” she called before Polly could stop her, and Miss Snelgrove hurried over, looking concerned.
“Miss Sebastian, you should be resting,” she said reprovingly.
“No, please, let me stay.”
“I don’t know,” she said doubtfully.
“I feel much better now. Truly,” Polly said, trying to think what would persuade her. “And Mr. Churchill says we must soldier on, that we can’t give in to the enemy.”
“Very well. But if you feel at all ill or faint—”
“Thank you,” Polly said fervently, and as soon as Miss Snelgrove had ordered Marjorie to keep an eye on her and had gone over to the lift to greet Miss Toomley, looked around the floor, searching for anyone who might be the retrieval team.
Marjorie had been telling the truth. They had scarcely any customers at all, and the ones who came in as the afternoon wore on,