“Come along,” Eileen said. “We need to go. Alf, where’s your coat?”

“Oh, I forgot it! It’s in my classroom. I’ll fetch it.” He tore off down the corridor.

“Don’t tell—” Eileen said, but she wasn’t quick enough. There was a loud whoop from the end of the corridor, followed by the sound of cheering and doors banging open. The headmistress scurried off to deal with it.

Alf came tearing back with his coat clutched to his chest. “Alf,” Eileen said reprovingly.

“It was just on the wireless!” he shouted. “The war’s over! Come on, let’s go. They’re gonna turn on the lights in Piccadilly Circus.”

He caught sight of Binnie’s face, and his grin faded. “You’re lettin’ us go, ain’t you, Mum?” he said to Eileen. “Everybody’ll be there. The King and Queen and Churchill.”

And Polly, Eileen thought.

“The whole city’s goin’. The war’s over!” He appealed to Binnie. “Tell Eileen we must go!”

“Are we going?” Binnie asked.

“Yes, of course,” Eileen said, wondering if Binnie had somehow picked up on her anxiety. “We must be there. Come along, Alf, Binnie.”

Alf shot through the door, but Binnie still stood there, looking resentful.

“Binnie?” Eileen said, taking her arm, and when she still didn’t move, “I’m sorry, I forgot you wanted to be called Roxie.” She’d insisted on the name ever since seeing Ginger Rogers play an unrepentant murderess in Roxie Hart. Which wasn’t surprising.

Binnie wrested free of her grasp. “I don’t care a jot what you call me,” she said and flounced out of the school.

Alf was waiting for them at the bottom of the steps, but Binnie marched past him and started up the street toward the tube station. “We’re not going by tube,” Eileen said. “I’ve got Colonel Abrams’s car.”

“Can I drive?” Alf said, clambering into the front.

Binnie stood there, looking at the car. “Don’t you have to take this back to headquarters?”

“They won’t miss it,” Eileen said. “Get in.”

Binnie did, slamming the door.

“And I’m not certain I could get it there. The crowds were already starting to gather in front of the palace when I drove past,” she lied.

“Is that where we’re goin’ Mum?” Alf asked. “To Buckingham Palace?”

“No, we must go home first so I can change out of my uniform,” Eileen said.

“Good. I need to fetch my Union Jack.”

“I think you should take the car back,” Binnie said from the backseat. “If you get in trouble, you might lose your job.”

“She can’t lose ’er job, ’cause she won’t ’ave a job,” Alf said jubilantly. “And you ain’t got a job drivin’ ambulances no more neither, Binnie. The war’s over. I think we should go to Piccadilly Circus and then Buckingham Palace.” He leaned out the window, waving. “The war’s over! Hurrah!”

Her lie about the crowds turned out to be the truth. People clogged the streets, shouting and waving flags. It took forever to reach Bloomsbury.

I’ll never be able to get the car to Trafalgar Square through this, Eileen thought, parking outside the house.