She tried to smile through her disappointment.

“But you were the salvation of my corporeal being as well. That night when first I saw you—”

“There you are,” the nurse said to Polly, flinging the door open. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. You’re supposed to be in bed.”

“This young lady saved my life,” Sir Godfrey said. “I was thanking her for—”

Another nurse appeared, looking fierce. “Sir Godfrey is not to have visitors,” she said to Polly’s nurse.

“Please, I only need another moment,” Polly said.

“Who’s this?” Sir Godfrey’s nurse demanded of Polly’s nurse. “A patient? What’s she doing out of bed? Why weren’t you watching her?”

Polly’s nurse looked defensive. “She got out of bed without my permission, and—”

“Silence!” Sir Godfrey shouted. “Begone, varlets. I would speak with this lady.” But Sir Godfrey’s nurse wasn’t impressed.

“Take this patient back down to her ward immediately,” she said to Polly’s nurse.

“Please,” Polly said. “You don’t understand—”

“Help!” a voice called from the end of the ward. “Oh, help!”

Binnie! Polly thought. Thank heavens.

“Come quick!” Binnie sobbed. “My mum’s bleedin’. Hurry!”

Both nurses took off at a run.

“Quick,” Polly said, gripping the railing at the foot of the bed with both hands. “Tell me how I saved your life.”

He nodded. “That night you stumbled into St. George’s, I had received a letter from an old friend of mine, offering me a role in a repertory company. It was to tour the provinces—Salisbury, Bristol, Plymouth. It was a dreadful program, no Shakespeare at all. Barrie, Galsworthy, Charley’s Aunt”—he grimaced—“and rep is even worse than pantomime. But all the theaters in the West End were shut, and it would have been a chance to get away from London and the bombs. And it scarcely mattered which play I did, or where. It was all for naught, ‘full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.’ ”

We haven’t got time for you to do Macbeth, Polly thought desperately. They’ll be back any minute.

“And then you came, and I knew that was a lie. That beauty, courage, meaning still lived.”

“What’s the meaning of this?” Polly heard Sir Godfrey’s nurse shout from the end of the corridor. “Children aren’t allowed up here.”

“And then,” he said, “when you knew your lines, I realized I could not possibly leave.”

“Come back here, you wretched child!” the nurse shouted, but Polly scarcely heard her.

“The next morning,” Sir Godfrey said, “I wrote to him, turning his offer down.”

Polly waited, afraid to speak, afraid to breathe.

“The theater in Bristol was bombed during the second act of Sentimental Tommy. A direct hit. The entire company was killed.”

Miranda: What foul play had we that we came from
thence? Or blessed was’t we did?

Prospero: Both, both.

—WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, THE TEMPEST

London—Spring 1941

IT TOOK THE STAFF OF THE HOSPITAL ANOTHER QUARTER of an hour to apprehend Alf and Binnie, during which time Polly was able to assure Sir Godfrey again that yes, she’d do the pantomime if he could find another theater to put it on in, hurry back down to the ward, divest herself of the Chinese robe, climb into bed, and be lying there looking nearly as innocent as Alf and Binnie did when they were dragged in by the scruff of their necks.