“No, I’m fine,” Polly managed to say. “I was afraid something had happened to you. You’re so late. Where have you been?”

“The Assistance Board hadn’t any coats at all,” Eileen said. “The woman in charge there said they’ve had an absolute run on them since these last attacks and with the cold weather and everything, so I had to go to the one near St. Pancras, and then I had difficulty getting a bus back. I’m sorry I worried you.”

Mike was still looking suspiciously at Polly.

“It’s this not knowing when the raids are,” Polly said. “It’s got me a bit nervy, that’s all. When the sirens went, and you still weren’t here—”

“I am sorry, but I did get you a hat.” Eileen handed it to Polly. “And most importantly, I got you a coat, Mike. I’m afraid it’s a bit too large,” she said, helping him try it on, “but I thought it would prove easier to take in a large one than to let out one which was too small. Mine’s not really warm enough for winter, but it was such a bright, hopeful color that I couldn’t resist. I was so sick of black and brown. This cheered me just to look at it. Doesn’t it make you think of spring, Polly?”

No.

“Yes, it’s very pretty,” she said.

Mike was still watching her.

“And what a lovely hat!” Polly said. She tried it on and made Eileen hold up her compact so she could see how it looked in the tiny mirror, and when she saw her own image, she was relieved to see that some of the color had come back into her cheeks. “Thank you so much. You’re a miracle worker, Eileen. Mike, hold out your arm.” She turned his cuff inside out to look at the lining. “This should be easy to turn up. Now, take it off and let me see the seams.”

“We can do that later,” he said. “The three of us need to talk.”

Oh, no, Polly thought. He’s guessed.

But when they got to the emergency staircase, he only wanted to know if she’d made a list of the raids she could remember. “Yes,” she said, relieved to change the subject. “I’m afraid it’s rather spotty. The only two I know of in January are the ones on the nights of the eleventh and the twenty-ninth.”

Mike wrote the dates down. “Do you know which parts of London were hit?”

“The East End was hit on January twenty-ninth, and central London on Saturday the eleventh. The Liverpool Street and Bank Underground stations were both hit—”

“Bank?” Eileen interrupted.

“Yes, and several hospitals—I don’t know which ones.”

“And you don’t know about any other January raids?”

“No. I do know the weather was bad enough during January and February to keep the Luftwaffe grounded part of the time,” she said, “and some nights they were bombing outside London—Portsmouth and Manchester and Bristol.”

“Were people killed at Bank Station?” Eileen asked.