Which is safer than working on an anti-aircraft gun crew, Polly thought. Or in a munitions factory. Factories were frequently targeted by the Luftwaffe.

And the house they moved into was near Russell Square, which was safe. But the house next door had been reduced to rubble and the one across from it had had its roof smashed in. “That means ours won’t be hit,” Alf said.

Binnie nodded wisely. “Bombs never ’it the same spot twice.”

Polly knew from experience that that wasn’t true, but she didn’t contradict them. Nowhere in London was safe, but at least this wasn’t the East End, which continued to be hammered; the house had a sturdy-looking cellar; and even Eileen’s and her own cooking was better than Mrs. Rickett’s, “though I’m beginning to sympathize with her,” Eileen said after a week. “How exactly does one produce meals for a family of four with one pound of meat and eight eggs a week?”

“We can get you some birds to cook,” Binnie said. “There’s lots of pigeons here.”

“And squirrels,” Alf said, brandishing his slingshot.

It really is too bad we can’t smuggle them into Nazi Germany to drive Hitler to distraction instead of us, Polly thought, though on the whole things were going better than she’d expected. The children were going to school, the deserted houses meant there were scarcely any neighbors for Alf and Binnie to annoy, and Eileen seemed much more cheerful.

“I’ve been thinking about Dunkirk,” she said. “Mike said the soldiers sitting waiting on the beaches thought no one was coming for them and they’d be captured by the Germans. But they didn’t know about the launches and rowboats and ferries which were being rounded up to come fetch them. And the soldiers wading ashore on D-Day didn’t know about all the things going on behind the scenes, like the deception campaign—what did you call it?”

“Fortitude.”

“Fortitude,” Eileen said, “or about all the things the French Resistance was doing, or Ultra. And it may be the same with us. There may be all sorts of things going on we don’t know about. Mr. Dunworthy may be working on a plan to get us out this very minute. Or he may already be on his way here.”

But this is time travel, Polly thought, despairing of ever making her understand. If they were coming, they’d already be here.

“We mustn’t give up hope,” Eileen said. “Dunkirk worked out all right in the end.”

“Never give up,” Alf said behind them, and they both jumped.

Oh, no, Polly thought. How much did he hear? But when she turned around, it was only the parrot.

“I’m sorry,” Eileen said. “I told Alf and Binnie to teach her something patriotic to say instead of ‘Hitler’s a bloody bastard.’ ”

“Loose lips sink ships,” Mrs. Bascombe squawked.

“Well, she’s certainly right about that,” Polly said. “We need to watch what we say with the children here.”

“Donate your scrap metal,” the parrot croaked. “Dig for victory. Do your bit.”