to the drop, though she hadn’t been through since February. Even if she’d had the time, it was nearly impossible to get away without being spotted by the Hodbins and followed, or lectured to by Mrs. Bascombe on the dangers of meeting young men in the woods. And there was only a week of her assignment left.
Surely I can last a few more days, she thought, but when two more batches of evacuees arrived, all with head lice, she wasn’t certain she’d make it. She spent the entire week washing their hair with paraffin.
It was after midnight on Sunday before she was able to lock herself in her room, rip open a section of her coat’s hem, and take out the letter Props had sent with her, although it was probably just as well she hadn’t been able to do it before. No hiding place was safe from the Hodbins.
The letter was addressed to her, and the return address was a nonexistent village in remote Northumberland. It and the postmark were smudged slightly to make them unreadable. She tore open the letter. “Dear Eileen,” it read. “Come home at once. Mum’s very bad. I hope you are in time. Kathleen.”
It was to be found lying on her bed for Mrs. Bascombe or Una to read after she’d gone. She debated hiding it under her mattress till tomorrow afternoon, then thought of the Hodbins and stuck it back inside the lining of her coat and basted the hem shut.
She got up at five on Monday and worked frantically all morning so everything would be in order before her half-day out began at one. She hoped they could find someone to replace her. She’d assumed Lady Caroline would simply hire another maid when she left, but yesterday Mrs. Bascombe had said that Mrs. Manning had been advertising for help for three weeks and hadn’t had a single reply. “It’s the war. Girls who should be in service running off to join the Wrens or the ATS. Chasing after soldiers is all girls think of nowadays.”
Not all, Eileen thought, shrugging out of her uniform and into the blouse and skirt she’d arrived in. She retrieved the envelope from her coat lining, took the letter out, arranged them to look like she’d flung them down in haste, and pulled on her coat.
There was a knock on the door. “Eileen?” Una said.
Oh, what now’? Eileen opened the door a crack. “What is it, Una?”
“Her ladyship wants to see you in the drawing room.”
Eileen couldn’t tell Una she was just leaving, not when she’d supposedly packed and departed instantly after reading her sister’s letter, too distraught to let anyone know. She’d have to go see what Lady Caroline wanted. It’s probably another set of louse-y bed wetters, she thought, changing back into her uniform and hurrying along the corridor. Or she’s decided the staff should learn to operate an anti-aircraft gun. Well, whatever it was, she wouldn’t have to do it after today. She’d never have to stand there again with her hands folded and her eyes demurely down, taking orders and saying, “You asked for me, ma’am?”
“You asked for me, ma’am?” she said.
“Yes,” Lady Caroline said grimly. “Miss Fuller came to see me just now. While she was at the Women’s Institute meeting yesterday, someone stole the hood ornament and the door handles off her Daimler.”
“Does she know who it was?” Eileen asked, even though she already knew the answer.
“Yes. She saw one of the culprits running away with them. It was Alf Hodbin. This sort of disgraceful behavior cannot be allowed to continue. Heaven knows, I am eager to do my bit, as it were, but I cannot have criminals at the manor.”
“I’ll see to it Alf returns them,” Eileen lied. “Will that be all, ma’am?”
“No. The billeting officer, Mrs. Chambers, is coming this afternoon. She’s bringing three more children. Two of them were originally to be sent to Canada, but their parents decided the North Atlantic was too dangerous.”
It is, Eileen said silently, thinking of the City of Benares, which would be torpedoed and go down with four hundred evacuees aboard in September.
“Mrs. Chambers assures me they’re extremely well-behaved children,” Lady Caroline said. Eileen doubted that, and even if they were, three days in the company of Alf and Binnie could turn an angel into a hookey-playing, stone-throwing, distributor-stealing hooligan.
“You’ll need to prepare cots for the children,” Lady Caroline said. “I shan’t be here this afternoon. Mrs. Fitzhugh-Smythe and I have a Home