unwaistcoated Roland, forgetting in her eagerness to have them gone to watch out for him. He stomped down hard on her instep, and when she yelped, said innocently, “Oh, did I tread on your foot? I am sorry.”
“Come, Roland,” Mrs. Sadler said. “We must hurry.”
She’s finally noticed we’re in the middle of a raid, Eileen thought, and about time. The searchlights had gone on, and the anti-aircraft guns were starting up.
“Do hurry, darling. We must go to Harrods and see what they have.”
Harrods is closed, Eileen thought, but she wasn’t about to say that, or anything else that might delay them. She saw them to the lift again, and then hobbled over to switch off the department’s lights, wondering if Roland had broken her foot.
And just when I need to make a run for the tube shelter, she thought, limping back to her department. Another gun, nearer than the last, began firing, and she heard an explosion.
If I don’t leave soon, I’ll have to spend the night here again. And perhaps that would be best. The planes sounded as if they were headed straight for Oxford Street, and at least she was safe here in Padgett’s. She scooped up the blazer and waistcoat, dumped them in the storeroom, and covered her counter.
And heard voices from over by the lifts. Oh, no, Eileen thought. They’re back again. She quickly switched off the lamp on her counter and ducked into the storeroom. She wouldn’t put it past Mrs. Sadler to send Roland in here to look for her. She limped to the back and hid behind the last row of shelves, straining to hear above the increasing drone of the planes.
The voices were coming closer. I am not going out there, no matter what, she thought. She pressed herself into the corner and prepared to wait them out.
I am coming home if I can.
—postscript on a postcard written by an evacuee
London—25 October 1940
FOR AN ENDLESS MINUTE STANDING THERE IN PADGETT’S, Polly couldn’t absorb what Michael Davies was saying or even the fact that he was there, she’d been so focused on finding Merope. She simply stood there gaping at him while he shook her arm and shouted that they had to get out of there.
“What are you doing here?” she managed finally. “Why aren’t you at Pearl Harbor?”
“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later. The question is, what are you doing here? Didn’t you hear the sirens? Come on!”
You’re the retrieval team, she thought, dazed. You’re finally here. She felt suddenly light and buoyant, as if an enormous weight she hadn’t known she was carrying had been lifted. “Oh, my God, Michael, I…” she stammered, “I am so glad to see you!”
“You’re glad?” An anti-aircraft gun started up. “Listen, we can’t stay here. We’ve got to get to shelter. Does this store have one?”
“Yes, but we can’t use it. It was demolished.”
“Demolished? What do you—?”
“Padgett’s is going to be bombed tonight.”
“Tonight? What time?”
“I don’t know. At some point during one of the first raids.”
“Then let’s get out of here,” he said and began pulling her back toward the stairwell.
“No! We’ve got to find Merope first.”
“Merope? What’s she doing here? She was supposed to have gone back ages ago.”
“I don’t know, but she works here on this floor. In Notions.” She wrenched free of him and ran across the darkened floor, calling, “Eileen!”
There she was, standing next to a counter. “Merope!” Polly cried, but it wasn’t her—it was a mannequin, draped in lengths of fabric, her hands modishly posed. Polly raced past her, past bolts of fabric and rows of sewing machines, looking for Notions.
And this was obviously it—here was the buttons cabinet and the threads case—but the counter was shrouded, like all the others, in green baize, and its counter lamp was switched off. “Merope? Eileen? Are you here?” she called, but there was no answer, no movement. “She’s not here,” she reported to Michael as he came up.
He was limping. “What happened?” she asked. “Did you hurt your foot?”
“Yes, but not recently. I’ll tell you later. Right now we need to get out of here.”
“Not without Merope.”
“Who told you she worked here?”
“A girl I work with. Why?”
“Because I’ve been here the whole afternoon, looking for you, and I didn’t see her.”
“But—you looked on this floor? Here in the notions department?”
“Yes. She wasn’t here.”
“She might have been on her tea break or—”
“No, I was here over an hour. And then I stationed myself where I could watch the staff entrance when