preferred being in a horizontal position anyway,” Wild says, grinning. Finch is still at Royal London. He needed a blood transfusion. Frankie gave two pints of blood to Finch. “Now when Finch wakes up, he’s going to start making puzzles, too,” Wild says.
Wild makes a Swedish flame, just like Julian taught him, and Mia and Julian warm up a pot of water and clean their faces and hands. Mia’s elbow feels better, she says, though Julian doesn’t believe her, since she’s not moving her arm. Phil and his daughters are not back yet, so Wild and Mia together perform emergency medical services on Julian’s head wound. Mia cleans it, and Wild wraps it, and she re-wraps it because Wild can’t tie the gauze with one hand. For dinner, they go to a cafeteria near Monument, and when they return to Bank, everyone’s back. “Frankie, you’re a hero, you gave two pints of your blood to Finch?” Mia says.
“Yeah, by the time it was all said and done,” says Frankie. “You want more blood? I said. I didn’t know I had any left.”
Struggling up on a bench, Mia whistles to get the Ten Bells’ attention. She’s always up on a stage. “Listen, squad, and listen good,” says Mia. “We know that the Savoy Hotel has been hit seven times. But despite that, the Grill remains open for business. That’s how we need to look at life. Hit seven times, yet still open for business.”
“Are you open for business?” Duncan shouts.
Shona smacks him. Wild yells at him. Mia continues.
“The food there continues to be excellent, despite the rationing and the mortar dust. And rooms are available, rooms that have their own private baths and showers! The reason I’m telling you this is because as a Christmas gift to us, Julian is taking us all to the Savoy! Yes, it’s true. So cheer up, mates. Cheer up, Frankie. Let’s get cleaned up. Dresses for the ladies, lounge suits and bowler hats for the gents. We are going to the Savoy!”
She beams at Julian. He fakely beams back. Hadn’t he suggested just the two of them going? He doesn’t remember inviting the entire Ten Bells gang into his reverie.
“Swedish,” Wild says, “you’re a gem.”
“Yeah, well.”
Liz jostles Nick. “Did you hear? Julian’s taking us to the Savoy.”
“Fuck off!” says Nick.
“After afterward, he’s getting us a room and we can sleep in a bed and take baths.”
“Fuck off!”
“Are we all going to sleep in a Savoy bed?” Duncan asks, red with insinuation.
“Duncan!” Shona yells. “One more remark like that, and you’re not going.”
“Mia’s right, though,” Julian says. “We need clothes that are less dusty and torn. We need to look less . . .”
“Less what? Less like we’re in a war?”
“Yes.”
“Fuck off,” says Nick.
“Let’s go to Oxford Street,” says Mia. “We’ll meet up tomorrow evening and find something to wear, and the next day we’ll go to the Savoy. It’ll be a Friday, so no work on Saturday. It’ll be perfect.”
“Are we really going to stay overnight?” Duncan says, unable to wipe the smile off his face.
“Why not?” says Julian.
“All of us?”
With a slight headshake at Mia, Julian nods at Duncan. “Sure, why not.”
They become immeasurably excited, even Peter Roberts, who cautiously says, “Are you sure about this, young man? That’s going to be very expensive.”
“Robbie,” Wild exclaims, “good God, what are you doing? Don’t talk him out of it!”
Frankie is subdued. “Poor Finch. He would’ve liked to go to the Savoy, too.”
“If you want, we can wait until he’s released,” Julian says. Everyone turns to Phil Cozens and his daughters the nurses for their prognosis. And they turn to Frankie who was last to see him.
Smiling a pasted-on smile, Frankie shakes her head. “We shouldn’t wait,” she says. “He isn’t doing great. He is still losing blood. The doctor thinks he might have a small piece of glass traveling through his body ripping up his veins.”
“Fuck off . . .” says Nick.
“Poor Finch.”
They agree to go to the Savoy without Finch. They make Julian promise that when Finch is released, they’ll go again to have dinner at the Grill.
They plan to meet on Oxford Street the following evening at six o’clock, hoping there will be no bombing. Last Thursday, when they were at Gone with the Wind, bombs fell on Tottenham Court Road at seven. The Germans are not waiting until late night anymore. Their attacks have become more indiscriminate, more random, and therefore more vicious. Because you can’t prepare for them.