“So she stayed on through four more years of air raids and National Service and rationing to see one day of people waving flags and singing, ‘Rule, Britannia’?” Polly asked incredulously. “She hates it here. And she’s terrified of the bombs. Do you honestly believe she’d be willing to go through an entire year of V-1s and V-2s for any reason?”

“Okay, okay. I agree that’s not very likely. I’m just saying there are all kinds of explanations for why she—or her coat—was there besides our not getting out. We missed contacting Bartholomew, but it’s not like we’re out of options. There’s still the St. John’s Wood drop, and Dunworthy will be here in May, right? And there are bound to have been historians who were here in 1942 and 1943. And if we can’t find them, we’ve still got Denys Atherton.”

Denys Atherton.

“You’re right,” she said. “I’m sorry. The shock of seeing the coat just unnerved me for a moment.” She started quickly down the steps. “Eileen will wonder what’s become of us, and I’m starving, too. Mrs. Rickett outdid herself tonight. She made a sort of dishwater soup—”

He grabbed her arms and pulled her around to face him. “No. You’re not going anywhere till you’ve told me the truth. It isn’t just the coat. It’s something else. What?”

“Nothing,” she said, flailing about for some excuse. “It’s only that I’m worried that Denys’s drop might not open. Gerald’s didn’t, and the buildup to D-Day may be a divergence point. It was terribly important that Hitler not find out when and where they were invading, and—”

“You’re lying,” he said. “When did you come through?”

“When did I … The fourteenth of September. I was supposed to come through on the tenth, but there was slippage, and I ended up coming through—”

“Not to the Blitz. To your V-1 assignment.”

You can still do this, Polly thought. You can still pull it out. “I told you, the V-1s began on June thirteenth.”

“That isn’t what I asked you.”

“I didn’t make it to Dulwich till after the first rockets hit. I’d intended to be there on the eleventh, and I’d started for Dulwich from Oxford on the eighth of June, two days after D-Day,” she chattered, “but it took me forever to get there. The invasion made travel simply imposs—”

“That isn’t what I asked you either. I asked you what day you came through the net. And don’t tell me June eighth.” He looked at her, waiting, and it was no use. He’d worked it out on his own.

She took a deep breath. “December twenty-ninth, 1943.”

Mike closed his eyes, and his hands tightened on her arms, gripping them so hard he hurt her.

“I couldn’t just show up at Dulwich,” she said, trying to make him understand. “I had to arrange to be transferred there, and that meant spending time in a unit in Oxford first. Major Denewell knew virtually everyone in the FANYs. I’d never have got away with lying about my experience.”