“I don’t remember. Salisbury, I think, and the World Trade Center. I wasn’t—”

Really listening, Polly thought, wanting to shake her. Of course not. Just like you weren’t listening to Gerald Phipps.

“You can ask Mike when he rings us,” Eileen was saying. “Why do you need to know?”

Because Pearl Harbor happened on December 7, 1941. And the storming of the Bastille was before the Reign of Terror.

Mike had said Mr. Dunworthy had been shuffling and canceling dozens of drops. What if he’d been doing it because the slippage increase was a matter not of months but of years? What if Mr. Dunworthy had been putting all the drops in chronological order and canceling ones where there was already a deadline because he had been afraid their drops wouldn’t open in time? What if the increase had been four years? Or the length of the war, and that was why she’d seen Eileen at VE-Day? Because they hadn’t got out?

But if that was it, then why hadn’t he canceled her drop?

Perhaps the increase isn’t that large, she thought. Pearl Harbor was only a year and a half after Dunkirk. She didn’t know how far apart the two events in the French Revolution were. The storming of the Bastille was July 14, 1789, but she didn’t know when the Reign of Terror had begun. If it was less than three years …

Or that might not be the reason they’d changed the schedules at all. It might be something else altogether. When Mike phones, I need to ask him the original order of his assignments and what it was changed to, she thought. If he phones. And in the meantime, it’s pointless to worry.

But it was impossible not to. She spent her lunch break going to Selfridges and Bourne and Hollingsworth’s to look at women’s coats—which were luckily all far too expensive for Eileen to afford, even at Bourne and Hollingsworth’s “Bomb Damage” sale. And when clothing rationing went into effect, it would be impossible to save up enough points to buy one. But it still made Polly more cheerful to see that the only colors available were black, brown, and navy blue.

Mike phoned Monday night, and it was exactly as Eileen had predicted. He’d had difficulty finding a phone where he could speak without being overheard. “Either I’m going to have to find a phone booth that’s closer,” he said, “or we’ll have to conduct our conversations in code.”

“You’re surrounded by England’s greatest cryptanalysts,” Polly said. “I wouldn’t recommend that.”

“You’re right, it’ll have to be letters. Does Mrs. Rickett steam open your mail?”

“I wouldn’t put it past her.”

“Well, don’t worry. I’ll think of something. I don’t suppose the retrieval team’s answered one of our ads yet?”

“No. You were supposed to do your Pearl Harbor assignment first, is that right?”

“Yes, and then the World Trade Center and the Battle of the Bulge, so I could use one L-and-A implant for all three.”