She could see him demanding action, trying drop site after drop site for one which would open, scouring historical records and newspapers and books on time travel, searching for clues to what had happened, refusing to give up. And if he had failed, if he had died before he was able to get them out, it wasn’t his fault any more than it was Mike’s. They had tried. They had done their bit.

As soon as the service was over, Mr. Humphreys dragged the vicar off to look at Captain Faulknor’s memorial, and Eileen hustled Alf and Binnie out of the chapel, leaving Polly to thank everyone for coming and to listen to their condolences.

“We must trust in God’s goodness,” Miss Hibbard said, patting her hand.

Mrs. Wyvern patted it, too. “God never sends us more than we can bear.”

“Everything which happens is part of God’s plan,” the rector intoned.

Sir Godfrey came up to her, his hat in his hand.

If he has some appropriately cheerful Shakespeare quote, like “There’s a divinity that shapes our ends,” or “All will yet be well,” I’ll never forgive him, Polly thought.

“Viola,” he said, and shook his head sadly. “ ‘The rain it raineth every day.’ ”

I love you, she thought, tears stinging her eyes.

Miss Laburnum came up. “We must have faith at trying times like these,” she said, and turned to Sir Godfrey. “I have been thinking, we should do a dramatic reading from Mary Rose. There’s a heartbreaking scene where her son comes looking for his dead mother …”

She dragged Sir Godfrey off, and Polly went to look for Eileen. She couldn’t see her or the Hodbins anywhere, and she didn’t want her to have to listen to the rector’s or Mrs. Wyvern’s platitudes. She went out into the nave and toward the dome.

Eileen was looking at The Light of the World with Alf and Binnie. Or rather, Alf and Binnie were looking at it, and Eileen was staring at Alf and Binnie with the same blind, withdrawn look. Polly’d hoped the vicar’s words would aid Eileen in coming to terms with Mike’s death, but they didn’t seem to have helped.

And the Hodbins were certainly of no help. “Why’s ’e wearin’ a dress?” Alf asked, pointing at the painting. “And what’s ’e standin’ there for?”

“ ’E’s knockin’ up the people what live there, you dunderpate,” Binnie said.

“You’re the dunderpate,” Alf said. “Nobody lives there. Look at that door. It ain’t been opened in years. I’ll wager the people what lived there went off and didn’t tell ’im. Or else they’re dead. ’E can go on knockin’ forever, and nobody’ll come.”

That’s the last thing Eileen needs to hear, Polly thought, and said, “We should be going. We don’t want to be caught out when the sirens go.” But Eileen gave no indication that she heard her. She continued to stare blindly at Alf and Binnie.

Polly tried again. “Eileen, we need to go rescue the vicar. Mr. Humphreys took him to look at Faulknor’s memorial and—”