Eileen had been at VE-Day because they hadn’t been able to get out. They’d still been here when Polly’s deadline arrived. And Mike …

We’ve got to find him, she thought, trying to think what they should do if there was no one to leave Theodore with.

But Mrs. Owens was there. “I was afraid he might not last through the whole pantomime,” she said, greeting them at the door. “I’m glad ’e didn’t. I’ve ’ad a feelin’ all day there was going to be a raid tonight.”

“Well, if there is,” Eileen said, “take Theodore to the shelter. That cupboard under the stairs isn’t safe.”

“I will,” she promised. “And you three should be ’eadin’ for ’ome.”

“We are,” Eileen said.

“Theodore, tell Eileen goodbye, and thank her for taking you.”

“I don’t want to,” Theodore said, and launched himself at Eileen. “I don’t want you to go.”

This is the delay, Polly thought. We’re going to spend the next two hours attempting to pry Theodore loose from Eileen’s legs.

But Eileen was ready for him. “I must go,” she said, “but I brought you a Christmas present.” She pulled a box wrapped in Townsend Brothers Christmas paper out of her bag and handed it to him.

Theodore sat down immediately to open it, and they made a hasty exit and were back on the train in a thankfully empty car by half past four. “We should have plenty of time to get to St. Paul’s before the raids start,” Mike said.

“But in case we don’t,” Polly said, “and in case we get separated, you need to tell me what Mr. Bartholomew looks like.”

“He’s tall,” Eileen said, “dark hair, early thirties—no, wait, I keep forgetting he was here six years ago. He’d be in his late twenties.”

“The fire watch’s headquarters are in the Crypt,” Polly said, “and the stairs to it are—”

“I know,” Mike said. “I’ve been to St. Paul’s.”

“To look for Mr. Bartholomew?” Polly asked.

“No. I told you, I thought he came in the spring. I was looking for you, remember? Mr. Humphreys gave me a whole tour of the place. He told me all about this Captain Faulknor guy who saved the day by tying two ships together and showed me all the staircases and—”

“But he didn’t show Eileen,” Polly said. “Or did he, that day you came looking for me, Eileen?”

“Yes, but I had other things on my mind. Where did you say the steps down to the Crypt are?”

“Here,” Polly said, drawing a map of St. Paul’s with her finger on the leather back of the seat and pointing to where the stairway down to the Crypt was.

“Where are the stairs to the roof?” Eileen asked.

“I don’t know, and it’s not roof, it’s roofs. There are layers and layers of levels and roofs. That’s what made putting out the incendiaries so difficult. But there’ll be someone in the Crypt who can take a message up to Mr. Bartholomew,” she said, and filled Eileen in on the raid. “St. Paul’s didn’t burn—”