“No,” he said. “It turned out to be a guy I knew in the hospital. In the bed next to me. Guy named Fordham. He’d finally got out and thought he’d look me up.”

She had known for days it wasn’t the retrieval team, but she still felt a lurch of panic at his words. They were nearly out of options, and in two more days they wouldn’t know where or when the raids were, and what then?

Mike was saying, “I’m sorry I didn’t call before, but it took me forever to track Daphne down. She’d got married and moved to Manchester.”

“Manchester? Oh, God, you weren’t there during the bombing, were you?”

“As a matter of fact, I was, and then couldn’t get out because the train station had been hit. I couldn’t call you either. The lines were down. I had to hitch a ride to Stoke-on-Trent and take the train from there.”

“Oh, it’s my fault!” Polly cried. “I should have warned you. But I didn’t think you’d have any reason to be in the Midlands. I’m so sorry. Listen, I have to tell you”—she lowered her voice again and cupped her hand over her mouth and the receiver—“tonight’s a horrible raid, one of the worst of the war. A huge part of the City burned and St. Paul’s was nearly destroyed, and several of the railway lines and stations were hit—Waterloo and—”

“What did you say?” Mike asked.

“I said, Waterloo Station and—”

“No, about St. Paul’s. You said it was nearly destroyed?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “It was hit by twenty-eight incendiaries, and everything else around it burned, Paternoster Row and—”

“I thought the incendiaries at St. Paul’s were on May tenth.”

“No, you’re thinking of the House of Commons. It—”

“But you said May ninth and tenth were the worst raids of the Blitz.”

“They were,” Polly said, wondering what this had to do with anything. “They had the most casualties, and caused the most damage, but the worst fire was on the twenty-ninth.”

“So the twenty-ninth is the night the fire watch is famous for? The night they saved St. Paul’s?”

“Yes.”

“Was St. Paul’s hit on the tenth?”

“No. What’s this all—?”

“Listen,” Mike said urgently. “I know where—damn it, my train’s pulling out. I’ve got to run for it. But, I need you to—”

“Do you want me to meet you somewhere?”

“No, you and Eileen both stay right where you are. And be ready to go when I get there. I know how we can get out. Bye.”

“Eileen’s not here,” she said, but he’d already rung off.

Polly replaced the receiver.

At least I warned him about tonight, she thought, though she wasn’t at all certain he’d been listening. But if he was in Rochester and there weren’t any delays, he’d be here well before the raids began. Or if his train was delayed, he’d ring up again in a few minutes, and she could warn him.

She stood there, looking down at the telephone, trying to decide whether she should go fetch Eileen. He’d said to be here and be ready to go when he arrived. But Eileen wouldn’t be at the theater yet—it was scarcely noon—and if Polly set out for Stepney, they’d be certain to miss each other.