“All right, but when we get home I’m telephoning the doctor.”

And I’m going to go in first so I can give Eileen some warning, so she won’t think he’s the retrieval team and get her hopes up.

But he is the retrieval team, she thought bleakly. He came through to rescue me, and now he’s as stuck in this morass as we are.

They pulled up in front of the house. “I need to run inside and fetch your fare,” she told the driver. “I’ll be back straightaway,” but he was shaking his head.

“I’d best ’elp you take ’im in, miss,” he said. “You’ll never manage ’im by yourself.” And before she could say anything, he was out of the taxi and helping Mr. Dunworthy out, so she had no opportunity to warn Eileen.

But Eileen seemed to size up the situation instantly. “Can you help us get him into bed?” she asked the taxi driver.

“Who’s ’at?” Alf asked, emerging from the kitchen with a slice of bread in one hand and a spoon in the other.

“Mr. D—” Eileen began.

“Mr. Hobbe,” Polly said.

“Is ’e soused?” Binnie asked.

“No, he’s ill,” Polly said.

Binnie nodded wisely. “That’s what Mum allus—”

“Binnie, go turn down the bed,” Eileen said.

“Not Binnie. Rapunzel. I’ve decided my name’s Rapunzel.”

I am going to kill that child, Polly thought, but Eileen said calmly, “Please go turn down the bed, Rapunzel.”

She did, tossing her perpetually untied hair ribbon as if it were Rapunzel’s braid, and Polly helped Mr. Dunworthy out of his wet coat and shoes while Eileen ran down to the corner to phone the doctor.

She’d been afraid Alf and Binnie would come in and ask annoying questions, but after a minute of standing in the doorway whispering to each other, they disappeared.

When she came out to hang Mr. Dunworthy’s wet shirt on the oven door and put the kettle on, Alf asked, “ ’E ain’t a truant officer, is ’e? Or a tube station guard?” Which meant they thought they recognized him from somewhere. She hoped they hadn’t tried to rob him as he walked to St. Paul’s.

“No,” she said. “He’s Eileen’s old schoolmaster.”

Schoolmasters were apparently as frightening as truant officers. The two of them didn’t even attempt to follow her into his room, though by the time the doctor arrived they were back to their old selves.

“It ain’t measles, is it?” Binnie asked. “We ain’t gonna be quarantined, are we?”

We already are, Polly thought.

“Is ’e going to die?” Alf asked.

Yes. On or before May first.

“He’ll be perfectly fine,” the doctor said heartily. “All he needs is to be kept warm and to rest, and he’s not to worry over anything. He needs building up, so he’s to have beefsteak and eggs—whole, not dried—every day.”

“But how?” Eileen said. “The rationing—”

“I’m writing a prescription. Take it to the ration office, and they’ll give you the necessary coupons.” He handed her the prescription and a paper packet. “And he’s to take this powder, dissolved in a glass of water, at bedtime.”