“You’ve been doing this since 1990?”

“No. 1989. The war actually began in ’39, you know, though there weren’t any battles for nearly a year. But there were several evacuated-children’s reunions, and then in the spring there were all the Battle of Britain exhibitions, and of course every year the VE-Day parades. Those were the most difficult. So many cities had their own, and all on the same day—”

“Do you mean to tell me you’ve been going to parades and anniversary celebrations and museum exhibitions for six years?” There must have been scores, even hundreds. “How many have you gone to?”

“All of them,” she said simply.

All of them.

“It’s not so bad as it might have been,” Binnie said. “It’s only May. Since it’s the fiftieth anniversary of the war’s end, there will be celebrations all year, including a special memorial service for the fire watch at St. Paul’s on December twenty-ninth.” She grinned mischievously at him. “At least you didn’t go to that.”

No, but I was planning to, he thought, and the Dunkirk Commemoration at Dover and the Eagle Day Air Show at Biggin Hill and the “Life in the Tube Shelters” exhibit at the London Transport Museum. And if he had, Binnie, or Alf, or one of Eileen’s other children would have been there as well. They’d spent nearly as much time and effort searching for him as he had for Polly. “Binnie—” he said.

“My, will you look at that,” a woman’s voice said from only a few feet away, “a gas mask! Do you remember having to carry them everywhere with us? And having those tiresome gas drills?”

“Oh, dear, they’re coming back from lunch,” Binnie whispered. She stood up.

“Wait,” Colin said. “You still haven’t told me where they are.”

She sat back down. “I’m not sure I did tell you. I think Mr. Dunworthy may have—”

“Mr. Dunworthy? I thought you said they were all in one place.”

“They were, but Mr. Dunworthy was the one who found you. Or you found him—I don’t know that bit of it—and brought you there.”

“But where did I find him?”

“In St. Paul’s.”

St. Paul’s? That meant he’d used Mr. Dunworthy’s drop. But it hadn’t opened once since Mr. Dunworthy had gone through, despite thousands of attempts. “Did I use the drop in St. Paul’s?” he asked.

“I don’t know that either. Why?”

“Because it’s not working.”

“Oh. Then you must have found him—or he found you—somewhere else. All I know is that we left him at St. Paul’s that night—”

“Which night? You still haven’t told me the date.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know that either. It was so long ago, and we were only children. It was sometime in late—”

“Have you been in the air-raid shelter yet?” a woman’s voice said, and the door opened on Talbot, Camberley, and Pudge. “So here you are, Goody,” Talbot said, looking from Binnie, who’d shot to her feet, to Colin. “What are you two up to?”