“Coming!” Eileen said.

“Keep away from Croydon,” Polly said, still not letting go of her hand, “and Bethnal Green and—”

“I must go,” Eileen said gently.

“I know,” Polly said, her voice breaking. “I’ll miss you terribly.”

“I’ll miss you, too.” She leaned forward and kissed Polly on the cheek. “Don’t cry. We’ll see each other again. In Trafalgar Square, remember?” she said.

“Prince Dauntless!” Sir Godfrey roared.

“Here!” she called and ran lightly down the aisle. “Goodbye, Mr. Dunworthy!” she called back over her shoulder. “Colin, take care of Polly! I’ll see you at the end of the war.” She pattered up the steps and onto the stage and vanished behind the safety curtain.

“Finally,” Polly heard Sir Godfrey thunder from behind it. “Miss O’Reilly, you seem to be laboring under the notion that we are putting on a Christmas pantomime. It is not. It is only two weeks till opening night. Time is of the essence!”

And that’s my cue, Polly thought. Half of acting is knowing when to make one’s exit.

But she still stood there, looking at the curtained stage.

Behind her, Colin said, “Polly, we need—”

“I know,” Polly said.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just that there’s not much time. Mr. Dunworthy?”

Mr. Dunworthy nodded and started up the aisle toward the exit.

“Polly?” Colin said gently. “Ready?”

“Yes,” she said. “Let’s go home,” and started up the aisle with him.

“Wait!” Sir Godfrey called. “I would speak with thee ere you go.”

Polly and Colin turned in the doorway and looked down at the stage. Sir Godfrey stood in front of the curtain, still in his Hitler uniform and his ridiculous mustache.

“My lord?” she said, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at Colin, and he wasn’t Duke Orsino or even Crichton. He was Prospero, just as he had been that first night they had acted together in St. George’s cellar.

“ ‘I have given you here a third of mine own life,’ ” he said, “ ‘or that for which I live.’ ”

Colin nodded.

“ ‘I promise you calm seas,’ ” Sir Godfrey called, and raised his hands in benediction, “ ‘auspicious gales, and sail so expeditious that shall catch your royal fleet far off.’ ”

She lives. If it be so, it is a chance which does redeem all sorrows that ever I have felt.

—WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, KING LEAR

Imperial War Museum, London—7 May 1995

I MANAGED TO COME THROUGH AND FIND POLLY AND MEROPE, Colin thought, but I came too late to rescue them. “I was too late, wasn’t I?” he asked Binnie, and, as if on cue, the sound effects of the bombs started in again.

“No,” Binnie said when they’d diminished to where she could be heard.

“What? I got Polly and Mr. Dunworthy out before their deadlines?”

“I don’t know. I know you left with them for the drop, and Mum—I mean, Eileen—said you must have got through because—”

“But if I left to take them to the drop, why didn’t Merope, I mean Eileen, go with us?”