All Clear (94 page)

“And if Alf’s left on his own,” Eileen was saying, “he’s likely to end up destroying the entire space-time continuum.” She smiled. “Don’t you see? I can’t leave them. There’s still a war on. And they saved my life.”

And mine
, Polly thought.
And England’s
. And knew there was no way to talk Eileen out of this.

“But you
hate
it here,” she said tearfully. “The raids and the rationing and the dreadful food. You said believing you’d be able to go home someday was the only thing that kept you going.”

“I know, but wars require sacrifices. And this spot in history’s not so bad. It is, after all, England’s finest hour. And I’ll get to see VE-Day, which I always wanted to go to.”

“But—”

“Please try to understand,” Eileen said, taking Polly’s hands. “You’ve done your job by saving Sir Godfrey. My job’s not finished yet, and I can’t do it unless I stay here.”

“That isn’t true. Colin, tell her she has to—”

“He can’t,” Eileen said. “He knows I stayed.” She looked at him again. “Don’t you?”

Colin didn’t answer.

“Mr. Dunworthy knows it, too,” Eileen said, turning to him. “That’s why you risked your life coming back here to the theater with Colin instead of staying at St. Paul’s and going through to Oxford, isn’t it? To say goodbye to me?”

“Yes.”

“But … I don’t understand,” Polly said, looking helplessly from one to the other. “What’s she talking about?”

“I was the one who told Colin where we were,” Eileen said. “Wasn’t I?”

And when he didn’t answer, “He found me after the war, and I told him where you were. He’d never have been able to find us otherwise. So you see, I’ve got to stay. I’ve got to be here when he comes to look for me.”

“Is that true, Colin?” Polly said. “Did Eileen tell you where we were?”

He still didn’t answer.

“
Did
she?” Polly demanded. “Tell me. Did she stay here in the past to tell you we were here?”

“Yes,” he said. “She did.”

She turned on Eileen. “You sacrificed yourself to save Mr. Dunworthy and me?” she said angrily. “How could you
do
that? How could you think I—?”

“It wasn’t a sacrifice. Polly, you have no idea how much I’ve despised being helpless, how much I’ve
hated
knowing you and Mr. Dunworthy were going to die and not being able to stop it. You saved my life that night at Padgett’s and, oh, dozens of times since then—especially after Mike died—but I couldn’t do
anything
to save yours.”

She clasped Polly’s hands. “But there was something I could—I can—do. I can stay here. I can find Colin and tell him where you are,” she said, her face radiant. “And I’m so
glad
!”

That’s what they were telling her while I was gone
, Polly thought, remembering Eileen wiping away tears as she came up the aisle.

“You shouldn’t have told her,” she said bitterly to them. “It’s not fair to put a burden like that on her—”

“No one told me,” Eileen said. “I knew it the moment I saw Colin.”

Just as I knew it was him
, Polly thought,
that he’d come to rescue us
.

And that was why he had looked so sad, so careworn. Because he knew Eileen wasn’t coming with them. Because he’d already seen her, years from now. She had already told him where they were.

It’s already happened
, she thought,
all of it, Eileen’s staying here and VE-Day and Colin’s asking her where we were. It’s all already happened, and there’s nothing I can do to change it
.

But she had to try. “I’m not going without you, Eileen,” she said.

“You’re right, you’re not. I’ll always be there with you,” Eileen said briskly, as if she were sending her off to school like Alf and Binnie. “Now go. I’ll take care of everything.”

“Oh, my goodness, what about ENSA? Mr. Tabbitt—”

“I’ll tell him you were transferred to a touring troupe or something. Go.”

There was a whistling screech and then a
crump
, and the theater shook slightly.

Eileen looked up at the ceiling. “The raids sound like they’re growing worse, and I won’t have you blown up now after all the work I’ve done—will do—to get you out of here. And if I know Alf and Binnie, they’ll be banned from the stage at any moment and come tearing up here to ask all sorts of questions, and you’ll never get away in time.”

She hugged Mr. Dunworthy. “Goodbye. You take care to rest and get well.”

“I will, my dear.”

“Polly, eat lots of eggs and bacon for me, and
heaps
of sugar.” She hugged her tightly. “And be
happy.
”

“ ‘This is a comedy, not a tragedy,’ ” Polly murmured.

“
Yes
,” Eileen said joyfully. “Only just think, you’re going
home
!”

“But I can’t bear the thought of leaving you here all alone—”

“I’m not alone. I have my children. And Sir Godfrey and Miss Laburnum and Winston Churchill. And Agatha Christie. And who knows what may happen? I may get to meet her properly next time and tell her how much I owe to her. She taught me to solve mysteries,” she said and turned to smile at Colin.

“My dear boy,” she said, embracing him and then holding him out at arm’s length to look at him again, “take care of her for me.”

“I will,” he said solemnly.

“Now, go,” she ordered, propelling them up the aisle toward the exit.

“Wait,” Polly said, and fished in her pocket for the letter. “Here. It’s a list of the V-1s and V-2s in London and the southeastern suburbs, but not Kent or Sussex, so stay out of them if you can.”

“I’ll be perfectly fine,” Eileen said. “You saw me on VE-Day, remember?”

I saw you, not Binnie and not Alf
, Polly thought, and, as if she’d said
his name aloud, Alf came pelting up the aisle toward them, pulling on his coat and cap as he ran.

“Why aren’t you helping Sir Godfrey?” Eileen said sternly.

“ ’E sent me to look for the carpenter,” he said, starting past them.

“You can’t go outside in this,” Eileen said, blocking his way. “There’s a raid on.”

“I won’t get killed,” Alf said, trying to get past Eileen. “I been out in lots of raids.”

“Not this one,” Eileen said, putting her hands on his shoulders and turning him firmly around. “Go tell Sir Godfrey I’ll let him know as soon as the carpenter arrives.”

She gave him a push to start him down the aisle, but instead he went over to Colin and said, “Are you
sure
you ain’t ’im?”

“Perfectly sure,” Eileen said. “I told you, he’s Polly’s fiancé. He’s home on leave.”

“On leave from
where
?” Alf said suspiciously.

“He’s a pilot,” Polly said hastily because Colin clearly wouldn’t have had time to research troop movements
and
raids. “In the RAF.”

“What sort of plane did you fly?” Alf asked.

Out of the frying pan into the fire
, Polly thought, but she had underestimated Colin.

“A Spitfire now,” he said. “A Blenheim before I was shot down.”

“You were shot down?” Alf said, awed.

“Twice. I had to ditch in the Channel the second time.”

“Are you a hero, then?”

Yes
, Polly thought.

“Course ’e’s a hero, you dunderhead,” Binnie said, coming up the aisle in her spangled fairy gown and wings, one of which dangled brokenly behind her. She was carrying Polly’s costume, green hose trailing, the scabbard dragging behind on the aisle carpet. “All RAF pilots are heroes. Mr. Churchill said so.”

“You’re the dunderhead!” Alf shouted, and charged head down at her midsection like a bull. Binnie began flailing at him with the scabbard.

“You’re certain you don’t want to change your mind and come with us?” Polly whispered.

Eileen grinned. “It’s a tempting offer,” she whispered back, and grabbed Alf by the scruff of the neck. “Alf, Binnie, stop that.” She snatched the scabbard from Binnie.

“She started it,” Alf said.

“I don’t care who started it. Look what you’ve done to Binnie’s wings.
Binnie, go to the dressing room and take them off before you do any more damage. Alf, fetch the glue.”

Binnie shook her head vehemently. “Miss Laburnum said I was to make
you
come try on your doublet for ’er so’s she can shorten it.”

“Tell her I will as soon as I’ve said goodbye to Polly. Now go along,” she said, and gave them a push to get them moving, but Binnie resisted.

“I want to say goodbye to them, too,” Binnie said.

And make absolutely certain we don’t take Eileen with us
, Polly thought, looking at her standing there like a determined angel, broken wings dangling, arms folded belligerently across her chest, as if she would prevent them with brute force if necessary.

“ ’At’s right,” Alf said, planting himself firmly beside his sister. “We got a right to say goodbye to ’em same as you.”

He was right. They had definitely earned that right, driving ambulances and providing maps and a place to meet in secret, preventing Eileen from reaching her drop, from catching John Bartholomew, from giving way to despair. Delaying Mr. Dunworthy so he could collide with a Wren, delaying the nurses so she could speak to Sir Godfrey, obstructing, interfering, stopping things. As they were stopping Eileen from going now.

She wondered if her rescue and Mr. Dunworthy’s were part of the continuum’s plan, or if there was some other reason Eileen had to stay here, some other part she had to play in winning the war or the larger war that was history. Or if they did.

Even if it was critical to the continuum, it didn’t make parting any easier, and Sir Godfrey’s beloved Bard didn’t know what he was talking about. There was nothing sweet about it.

“Oh, Eileen,” Polly said, embracing her, “I don’t want to leave.”

“And I don’t want you to,” Eileen said.

“This is just like that day at the station,” Alf said contemptuously. “When we put Theodore on the train. ’E didn’t want to go neither. This ’ere’s just like that, ain’t it, Binnie?”

“Except Theodore kicked ’er,” Binnie said. “And the vicar ain’t ’ere.”

No
, Polly thought, seeing the pain that flickered across Eileen’s face,
the vicar’s not here, and Mike’s dead
.

And there were still four years of war and deprivation and loss to be gotten through. “You two take care of Eileen,” she said fiercely.

“We will,” Binnie said.

“We won’t let nothin’ ’appen to ’er,” Alf promised.

“And both of you be good.”

“Him good?” Binnie hooted, looking at Alf, and he promptly proved her point by kicking her in the shins. Binnie began whaling away at him.

“Alf, Binnie,” Eileen said, and moved to intervene, but before she could there was an outraged shout from the stage.

“Alf Hodbin!” Sir Godfrey bellowed. “Binnie!”

“We didn’t do nothin’!” Alf said. “We was—”

“Bramblebushes, onstage!” Sir Godfrey shouted, and Alf and Binnie said, “G’bye!” and tore off down the aisle.

Thank goodness
, Polly thought.
Now we can
—

A deafening thud shook the theater. The chandeliers rattled. “We really do need to go, Polly,” Colin said, looking up at the ceiling.

“I know,” Polly said, pressing the list of raids into Eileen’s hand.

“I told you,” Eileen said, “we’ll be fine—”

“How do you know the reason you were fine wasn’t that you’d memorized the list?” Polly folded Eileen’s fingers over it. “You’ve got to make certain you’re all down in the tube both the nights of the ninth and the tenth. Fifteen hundred people were killed and eighteen hundred were injured. Those will be the last big raids till the V-1s, but you’ll still need to heed the air-raid alerts—”

“Prince Dauntless!” Sir Godfrey shouted from the stage, and Polly looked up automatically, but he wasn’t calling her. He was calling Eileen. “Miss O’Reilly! Onstage! Now!”

“Coming!” Eileen said.

“Keep away from Croydon,” Polly said, still not letting go of her hand, “and Bethnal Green and—”

“I must go,” Eileen said gently.

“I know,” Polly said, her voice breaking. “I’ll miss you terribly.”

“I’ll miss you, too.” She leaned forward and kissed Polly on the cheek. “Don’t cry. We’ll see each other again. In Trafalgar Square, remember?” she said.

“Prince
Dauntless
!” Sir Godfrey roared.

“Here!” she called and ran lightly down the aisle. “Goodbye, Mr. Dunworthy!” she called back over her shoulder. “Colin, take care of Polly! I’ll see you at the end of the war.” She pattered up the steps and onto the stage and vanished behind the safety curtain.

“Finally,” Polly heard Sir Godfrey thunder from behind it. “Miss O’Reilly, you seem to be laboring under the notion that we are putting on a
Christmas
pantomime. It is not. It is only two weeks till opening night. Time is of the essence!”

And that’s my cue
, Polly thought.
Half of acting is knowing when to make one’s exit
.

But she still stood there, looking at the curtained stage.

Behind her, Colin said, “Polly, we need—”

“I know,” Polly said.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just that there’s not much time. Mr. Dunworthy?”

Mr. Dunworthy nodded and started up the aisle toward the exit.

“Polly?” Colin said gently. “Ready?”

“Yes,” she said. “Let’s go home,” and started up the aisle with him.

“Wait!” Sir Godfrey called. “I would speak with thee ere you go.”

Polly and Colin turned in the doorway and looked down at the stage. Sir Godfrey stood in front of the curtain, still in his Hitler uniform and his ridiculous mustache.

“My lord?” she said, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at Colin, and he wasn’t Duke Orsino or even Crichton. He was Prospero, just as he had been that first night they had acted together in St. George’s cellar.

“ ‘I have given you here a third of mine own life,’ ” he said, “ ‘or that for which I live.’ ”

Colin nodded.

“ ‘I promise you calm seas,’ ” Sir Godfrey called, and raised his hands in benediction, “ ‘auspicious gales, and sail so expeditious that shall catch your royal fleet far off.’ ”