“But it’s not Barrie either, which is a point in its favor, and some parts were very amusing. I quite liked your air-raid alerts, and apparently I was not alone. I’d hoped to catch you afterward at the stage door, but there was such a throng I realized I could not possibly compete, and decided to wait and take a more direct approach.”

He smiled at her, and she realized how much she’d missed him, how much she’d longed to tell him about ENSA and the shows.

But she couldn’t. She shouldn’t even be sitting here chatting with him. “Did you have a reason for coming, Sir Godfrey?” she asked briskly. “I’m afraid I haven’t much time, I need to change—”

“Of course. I shall come directly to the point. I am here to ask your assistance with a theatrical endeavor Mrs. Wyvern and I are currently putting together.”

“Mrs. Wyvern?”

“Yes. You may remember her determination to rebuild St. George’s and to aid the children of the East End who’ve lost their parents in the Blitz, or as she refers to them, ‘our poor, sad, helpless war orphans.’ To that end, she has determined on a benefit to aid both her ends. A theatrical production—”

“Oh, dear,” Polly said. “Not Peter Pan, I hope?”

“Worse. A pantomime.”

She couldn’t help smiling. “But aren’t pantomimes usually acted at Christmastime?”

“They are—a point I made several times in attempting to dissuade her, but Mrs. Wyvern is an extremely formidable woman. An amalgam of Lady Macbeth and—”

“Julius Caesar?”

“A German panzer,” he said grimly. “She is impossible to stand against. It’s a pity she’s not in command of the Army. We’d have defeated Hitler already. In any case, I find myself forced to play the Bad Fairy in Sleeping Beauty. Which is why I’ve come. I wish to enlist you in our enterprise. The others of our little band have already agreed to participate. The rector and Mrs. Brightford are to be Sleeping Beauty’s parents, Miss Laburnum the Good Fairy, and Nelson the Good Fairy’s dog. I want you for the lead.”

“Sleeping Beauty?”

“Great God, no! All she does is lie there for three acts, waiting to be rescued. A bolster could play the role. Or a film actress. Mrs. Wyvern is attempting to recruit one as we speak.”

“A bolster?”

He smiled. “No. A film actress. Madeleine Carroll, perhaps, or Vivien Leigh. I want you to be the principal boy.”

“Principal boy?”

He nodded. “Sleeping Beauty’s prince. The male lead in pantomime is always played by a girl, and the prince is quite the best role in the play—except for mine, which is rife with Teutonic shouting and violet smoke. You will get to wave a sword about and wear a plumed hat and substantially more clothes than you do as Air-Raid Adelaide. Come, say you’ll do it.”

“But surely there are lots of other people you could get, like Lila—”

“She’s joined the WAAF.”

“Oh. Well, Mrs. Brightford, then. Or Vivien Leigh. I’m certain she’d rather play the prince than a bolster.”