“Which direction?”

“Right,” he said. “No, left.”

“Are you certain you know the way to St. Bart’s?”

“Course. We was there when—” He stopped short.

“When what?” Eileen said, glancing over at him.

He didn’t answer her. “If I ’ad my map, I’d know the way for sure,” he grumbled. “ ’Ow come you never sent it?”

“I brought it back, but you weren’t home, so I put it under your door.”

“Oh,” he said. “That’s why. After—”

“You never said what you was doin’ in Blackfriars,” Binnie interrupted from the back.

“I was trying to get to St. Paul’s. What were you two doing there?” Eileen asked, though she had a good idea.

“We was goin’ to a shelter durin’ the raids like you told us to,” Binnie said virtuously.

Alf nodded. “Bank Station’s the best, but sometimes we go to Liverpool Street. Or Blackfriars, like tonight. It’s got a canteen.”

“Can’t you drive faster?” Binnie called from the back.

No, Eileen thought, gripping the wheel. There was too much smoke, and too many obstacles. Half the streets Alf told her to take were filled with fire equipment.

Or with flames. Glowing embers clattered onto the bonnet of the ambulance, and halfway along Old Bailey, the darkened buildings on either side suddenly flared into burning torches, and Eileen had to back up and take a side lane so narrow she wasn’t certain the ambulance could get through. And if the tall wooden buildings crowding in on either side caught fire the way the others had, there’d be no way out.

“This is fun, ain’t it?” Alf said. “Are we gonna be killed?”

“No,” Eileen said grimly. You were born to be hanged.

“Now where?” she asked.

“That way.” He pointed off to the east.

“I thought the hospital was north.”

“It is, but we can’t go that way. There’s fires.”

“Binnie!” Eileen called into the backseat. “Is the driver coming round yet?”

“No,” Binnie said, “and the lieutenant’s asleep.”

Oh, no.

“Is he still breathing?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Binnie said, but uncertainly. “ ’Ow long do I got to push on this bandage?”

“Till we get there,” Eileen said. “You can’t let up for even a moment, Binnie.”

“I know.”

“Go down there,” Alf directed, pointing along a street that led downhill toward the river.

“You’re certain this is the shortest way, Alf?” Eileen asked, veering to avoid an incendiary in the middle of the street.

“Yeah. We got to go round the fires.”

Which was easier said than done. New waves of planes flew overhead every few minutes, followed by scattered spurts of white and then yellow flame at a dozen places among the roofs. We’ll have to drive to Dover to get around all these fires, Eileen thought.

“Now down there,” Alf said.

“The bandage is bleedin’ through,” Binnie said.

“Keep pressing. Don’t let up.”

“The blood’s comin’ through to my ’ands. It’s all over ’em!” Binnie said.

“Can I see?” Alf said eagerly.

“No,” Eileen said, dragging him back down into the front seat with one hand. “I need you to navigate. Binnie, press hard!”