“Yes, sir. Do you wish to try again later?”

No. I need to talk to him now.

“Yes,” he said. “And tell him I called. Tell him Michael Da—”

“I never,” a boy’s voice said, and he looked up sharply. A boy and a girl were coming down the street toward the phone booth. The boy was nine or ten, and the girl older. They were arguing loudly.

“You did so,” the girl said.

“I didn’t nick it,” the boy said. “She give it me.”

Oh, God, he thought, it’s Alf and Binnie Hodbin.

They hadn’t seen him yet, they were so busy arguing. He had to get out of here. He hung up and was out of the phone booth and back in the car in a flash. He snatched up the map Cess had left on the seat and opened it out to shield himself from them.

“I seen you,” Binnie said.

Oh, Jesus.

“You did not,” Alf said. They weren’t talking about him. They were talking about whatever it was that Alf had “nicked.” But his relief was short-lived. Because there was only one reason they’d be here, this far from the East End. They were on their way to see Eileen, or on their way home from seeing her. Which meant she was still here. And if he didn’t get out of here, Alf and Binnie would see him, they’d tell Eileen he was alive, that he’d gone off and abandoned them.

He reached to turn the key in the ignition, but they were already even with the car. They’d hear the engine start and look over and see him. He’d have to wait till they were past.

“I’m going to tell,” Binnie said.

“You better not!” Alf said, and then, “Look!”

Oh, Christ. They were running right at the car. He’d have to convince them he was Lieutenant Abbott and that he had no idea who this Mike Davis was. But when had anybody ever been able to put anything over on the Hodbins?

They ran straight past the car into the street. He peeked cautiously over the map. A staff car pulled up and stopped. The children ran up to the car window.

Oh, Christ, he’d been right about Eileen being a driver.

“Where’s Mum?” Alf asked. “She said to meet ’er ’ere.”

Mum?

“She’s going to be late,” a woman’s voice—not Eileen’s—said. Ernest slid up on the seat to where he could see the children leaning in to talk to a blonde in an ATS cap and uniform. And now that his adrenaline wasn’t raging, he saw what he hadn’t before, that both children were wearing school uniforms and carrying satchels, and that their hair, or at least the girl’s, was neatly combed. They looked much too well cared for to be Alf and Binnie, in spite of the similarity in looks, in their voices.

“Your mother had to drive General Bates to Chartwell for a meeting,” the blonde said, and from what Eileen had told him about Mrs. Hodbin, he couldn’t imagine her driving anyone anywhere, and certainly not a general. “She told me to pick you two up and give you some supper.”