and Hollingsworth, Townsend Brothers, Mary Marsh—and all of them were enormous buildings with at least four floors. Selfridges, on the other side of the street, covered an entire block. Let’s hope Polly’s not working there, Eileen thought. It would take a fortnight to find her.
But Padgett’s was nearly as large, with even more grandiose Greek columns along its front. John Lewis, two streets down, had columns as well, plus unboarded-up display windows. Eileen corralled Alf and Binnie—who’d gone next door to Lyons Corner House to look at the pastries in the window—and tried to clean them up a bit. She tied Binnie’s sash and straightened her collar. “Pull up your socks,” she told them, rummaging in her handbag for a comb.
“I’m ’ungry,” Binnie said. “Can we go in here?”
“No,” Eileen said, yanking the comb through her tangles. “Tuck in your shirt, Alf.”
“We ain’t ’ad nothin’ to eat in hours,” Alf complained. “Can’t we—?”
“No,” she said, trying to hold him still so she could give him a quick spit bath with her handkerchief. “Come along.”
She took their hands and led them over to the entrance. And stopped, stymied. There was no door, only a sort of glass-and-wood cage, divided into vertical sections. “Ain’t you never seen a revolving door?” Alf said, and darted into one of the sections, pushing on it to make it turn, followed by Binnie, giving a running commentary on how to do it. Eileen trusted neither it nor the Hodbins, but in spite of a momentary feeling of being trapped, she made it through and inside the store.
And what a store! Hanging brass-and-glass lamps and carved wooden pillars and polished floors. The counters were of oak, and behind them rows of brass-handled drawers went all the way to the high ceilings. On each counter stood an elegant lamp and behind each one an equally elegant young woman.
Oh, dear, Eileen thought. John Lewis was clearly too good for a housemaid and two slum children—and the problem wasn’t just that they stood out in their shabby clothes. Eileen had intended to pretend to look at merchandise till she’d located someone she could ask, but that wasn’t going to be possible. Except for several hats on a brass hat stand, and some folded scarves on one of the counters, no merchandise was on display. She was obviously supposed to ask to see things, and the salespeople just as obviously wouldn’t believe she could afford anything in the store.
Her assessment was rapidly borne out by a middle-aged man in a frocked coat and striped pants bearing down on the three of them with an appalled expression. “May I assist you, madam?” he asked, sounding as appalled as he looked.
“Yes,” she said. “I’m looking for someone who works here. Polly Sebastian?”
“Works here? As part of the cleaning staff?”
“No, as a shopgirl.”
“I think you must have the wrong store, madam,” he said, his tone of voice clearly saying, “We would never hire anyone who knew the likes of you.”
He won’t even check to see if she works here, Eileen thought, and he won’t let me look for myself either. In another minute he’d be escorting them to the revolving door, and there’d be no way he’d let them back in. I should never have brought Alf and Binnie with me, she thought, and had a sudden inspiration. “These children are evacuees,” she said. “They’re staying with Lady Caroline at Denewell Manor. I’m her maid. She sent me to London to have them outfitted with new clothes. I was told to ask for Miss Sebastian.”
“Oh, of course,” he said, all smiles now. “You’ll want our children’s department. That’s on the third floor. This way, if you please,” he said, leading the way, and for a moment she was afraid he intended to go with them up to third, but he stopped outside a lift. A boy not much older than Binnie leaned out and asked, “Which floor, miss?”
“Third,” Eileen said and stepped in with the children. The boy reached forward to shut the wooden door, pull the brass gate across, and push down on the lever. The lift started up.
“Second floor, men’s wear and shoes,” the boy recited mechanically. “Third floor, children’s wear, books, toys.” He pulled the gate open, opened the door, and held it for them while they exited.
Eileen had worried they’d immediately be confronted by another striped-pants person, but the one on this floor was assisting a woman and her daughter.
Good, Eileen thought, taking Alf and Binnie by the hand and