“I’m afraid something may have happened to her friend.”
“No,” Polly said. “It isn’t Marjorie. It’s Padgett’s. It was bombed last night.”
“Padgett’s?” Miss Laburnum said. “The department store?” And the others instantly gathered round, asking questions: “When?” “How badly?” “You weren’t injured, were you?”
“But I thought you worked at Townsend Brothers,” Lila said.
“I do, but my cousin works—worked at Padgett’s, and she and I were to meet there after work—”
“Oh, my dear,” Miss Laburnum said. “I do hope she wasn’t—”
“No, she’s all right, but the store was bombed just after closing, and we’d only just left—” Which hopefully accounted for the fear Sir Godfrey had seen in her face. “It was completely destroyed.”
More questions. Was it incendiaries or an HE? How big an HE? Were there any casualties?
Polly answered them the best she could, keenly aware of how much time this was taking and of Sir Godfrey’s searching look. She spent a full quarter of an hour assuring them she was all right before they began to gather up their things.
Polly looked at her watch, trying to decide if she had enough time to get to Mrs. Rickett’s and back.
“I don’t understand,” Miss Laburnum said. “Why did you ask about a room if it was your cousin’s place of employment which was bombed?”
“I was meeting her so we could look for a room for her. The boardinghouse where she lived was bombed out, and now Padgett’s has been as well,” which was a totally implausible story. It was a good thing Sir Godfrey had gone over to pick up his coat and his Times. “I was hoping Mrs. Rickett might have a room to let.”
“But couldn’t she stay with you? Your room was meant to be a double, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, but a friend of ours, Mr. Davis, was bombed out, too.”
Miss Laburnum’s eyebrows went up. “A friend?”
Oh, no. She’d immediately assume some sort of hanky-panky. “Yes,” she said, and then shamelessly, “He was injured at Dunkirk.”
“Oh, poor boy,” Miss Laburnum said, instantly sympathetic. “There’s no vacancy at Mrs. Rickett’s at present, but I believe Miss Harding has one. She’s in Box Lane.”
Which wasn’t on Mr. Dunworthy’s forbidden list. Perfect. Now if she could just get over to Box Lane and put a deposit on the room.
“And you’d best look for a room for your cousin,” Mr. Dorming growled on his way out. “She’s already been bombed out. You don’t want to put her through Mrs. Rickett’s cooking as well, do you?”
He went out. Polly thanked Miss Laburnum and started after him, but Sir Godfrey stopped her. “Viola, what is it? What’s really happened?”
“I told you,” she said, not meeting his eyes. “My cousin—”
“Viola could not speak either, to tell Orsino of her sorrow or the brother she had lost,” he said. “But silence has its dangers as well. Whatever is troubling you, you can tell—”
“Sir Godfrey, I’m so sorry to interrupt,” Miss Laburnum said, “but I must speak to you. It’s about shoes.”
“Shoes?”
“Yes, in the third act, on the island after the shipwreck, everyone’s supposed to go unshod, but the station floor’s so unsanitary, so I was thinking perhaps beach sandals—”
“My dear Miss Laburnum,” Sir Godfrey said, “at this point we will not ever reach the third act. Lord Loam is incapable of remembering his lines. Lady Catherine and Tweeny are incapable of remembering their blocking. Lady Mary,” he said, looking at Polly, “persists in nearly getting herself blown up, and the Germans may invade at any moment. We have far more pressing problems at hand than footwear.”
You’re right, we do, Polly thought. Not knowing what airfield Gerald is at, and not having coats or jobs or roofs over our heads. And trying to keep from being arrested as German spies. Or killed by shrapnel or stray parachute mines.
“Oh, but Sir Godfrey,” Miss Laburnum protested, “if we don’t do it now—”
“If and when we reach a point where it becomes necessary to decide whether going unshod is a threat to our health, we will discuss it. Until then, I’d suggest you concentrate on persuading Lady Catherine not to titter each time she says a line. There is no point in fretting over things which may never come to pass. ‘Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof,’ my dear Miss Laburnum.”
And there’s my answer, Polly thought gratefully. Mike and Eileen have more than enough to deal with without my adding to it. We need to concentrate on getting Eileen out of Stepney and Mike out of Fleet Street and both of