“Eileen? Polly? Are you up there?”

“It’s Mike,” Eileen said, and ran down to meet him. “Where were you?”

“I went to the morgue,” Mike said.

Oh, no, I’m too late, Polly thought. He’s already found out about the five fatalities.

But when he came up the stairs, he said cheerfully, “I found a bunch of airfield names, and I’ve got a job, so we don’t have to live on just Polly’s wages.”

“A job?” Eileen said. “But if you’re working, how will you be able to go look for Gerald?”

“I’ve been hired as a stringer for the Daily Express, which means I go out and find news stories—including at airfields—and get paid by the story. I didn’t have any luck finding a map, so I went to the Express’s morgue to look through their back issues for mentions of airfields—”

The newspaper morgue, Polly thought, not the actual morgue.

“And when I told them I was a reporter who’d been at Dunkirk, they hired me on the spot. Best of all, they gave me a press pass, which will give me access at the airfield. So now all we need is to figure out which one it is.” He pulled a list from his pocket. “What about Digby? Or Dunkeswell?”

“No, it was two words … I think,” Eileen said.

“Great Dunmow?”

“No. I’ve been thinking. It might have begun with a B instead of a D.”

Which means she has no idea what letter it began with, Polly thought. “Boxted,” she said.

“No,” Eileen said.

“B,” Mike murmured, going down the list. “Bentley Priory?”

Eileen frowned. “That sounds a bit like it, but—”

“Bury St. Edmunds?”

“No, though that might … oh, I don’t know!” She threw her hands up in frustration. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll find it,” Mike said, wadding up his list. “There are lots more airfields.”

“Can you remember anything else Gerald said about where he was going?” Polly asked.

“No.” She frowned in concentration. “He asked me how long I was going to be in Backbury, and I said till the beginning of May, and he said that was too bad, that if I’d been staying longer he’d have come up some weekend to ‘brighten my existence.’ ”

“Did he say how?”

“How? You mean motor up or come by train?” Eileen asked. “No, but he said, ‘Is backwater Backbury even on the railway?’ ”

“And the day I saw him,” Mike interjected, “he said one of the things he had to do was check the railway schedule.”

“Good,” Polly said. “That means the airfield’s near a railway station. Mike, you said he went through to Oxford?”

“Yes, but that was just to set things up, not for his assignment. He could have been checking on a train to anywhere …”

Polly shook her head. “Wartime travel is too unreliable. Mr. Dunworthy would have insisted he come through near where he needed to go. Troop trains cause all sorts of delays.”

“She’s right,” Eileen said. “Some days the train to Backbury didn’t come at all.”