“Nonsense.” I rather enjoy this peek at Lenora’s moxie. At the same time, I struggle to reconcile my recruitment by Hutton, when so many in his position would have opted to hire yet another man.

Is it possible he was intrigued less by my abilities—which, granted, lately have been underwhelming—than the presumption that as a woman, I’d be usefully inattentive, unlike his beloved Peter Baker? Of course, if Hutton now wishes for my removal, his case could be easily made.

“Here we are,” Lenora declares abruptly. She parks us in an open spot along the curb.

Rather than tiptoeing around my concerns, perhaps I should just voice them. But she’s climbing out of the truck and clicking on her blued flashlight.

I can wait for our drive back.

In the cold, dank air, I join her in crossing the vacant street. Thankfully she knows the area. Given the damage of buildings and the protective boards over windows, let alone the blackout, it’s especially challenging to find any location.

I recall we’re near the docks. I think of the peninsula of my childhood and visiting the shore with Papa. A wistful warmth runs through me, interrupted by a siren that slices the night.

An air raid.

I inhale sharply and my muscles tense.

Lenora looks around, orienting herself, then speaks over the alert. “There’s a shelter close by, at Bethnal Green.” She points behind us. “It’s a Tube station that way. Follow me.”

We turn and I aim for calm while keeping stride beside her. The siren rises and falls as we pass one block after the other. Residents of varied ages are emerging from their flats, like sheep in a storm headed for shelter. Their collective casualness, many toting bundled bedding, affirms this is standard routine. After all, the alerts are timed to give ample notice and the majority nowadays are strictly precautionary.

I’m antsy regardless. “How much farther?”

“Not far,” Lenora says. “Wait until you see it. The war broke out before the tracks could be laid. It’s like an entire village beneath the city. There are thousands of bunks, a library, a theater. My one time there, a couple even had a wedding ceremony.”

I can’t imagine ever being that comfortable about an air raid. Or an Underground station. Or being anywhere that deep in the earth. But the promise of so much space does slightly reduce my worry.

Around a corner, we proceed onto a street clogged with more figures. Patrons are pouring from a cinema and two adjacent pubs. An older gentleman off to the side, in the uniform of an air-raid warden, waves everyone along. “Keep moving now! Keep moving!”

After another few blocks, the rhythmic wail of the siren ends. But until the solid all-clear signal, a potential threat remains, evidenced by a searchlight illuminating the sky.

Lenora cranes her neck for a view of the street. “There it is.”