skills and Dunkirk events in the same subliminal, had it, and dragged back to his rooms to get some sleep and then memorize everything else.
Charles was there, attired in a dinner jacket and practicing putts on the carpet. “Don’t tell me,” Mike said. “The colonials spent all their time playing golf.”
“Yes,” Charles said, lining up his putt. “That is, when they weren’t taking telephone messages for their roommates.”
“The lab called?”
“No, Props. They said to tell you they can’t have your papers ready till next Tuesday.”
“Next Tuesday?” Mike bellowed. He called, told them in no uncertain terms that he had to have them by Friday at the latest, and slammed down the phone. It rang again immediately.
It was Linna. “Good news,” she said. “We’ve found you a drop site.”
Which meant Dover wasn’t a divergence point after all. Thank God. “Where is it?” he asked. “In London?”
“No, it’s just north of Dover, six miles from the docks. But there’s a problem. Mr. Dunworthy wanted to move one of the retrieval times up, so we gave them your Saturday slot.”
Great, Michael thought. This’ll give me a couple of extra days. I’ll be able to memorize that list of small craft. And get some more sleep. “What day did you move it back to?”
“Not back,” she said, “forward. You go through Thursday afternoon-tomorrow-at half past three.”
To the Trenches
Oxford-April 2060
“IN TWO DAYS?” EILEEN SAID, LOOKING OVER LINNA’S shoulder at her console in the lab. She’d gone to see Mr. Dunworthy as soon as she came through from Backbury and then come back to the lab to schedule her return. “But I need to learn to drive. What about next week?”
Linna called up another schedule. “No, I’m sorry, we haven’t anything then either.”
“But I can’t possibly learn to drive in two days. What about the week after next?”
Linna shook her head. “That’s even worse. We’re totally swamped. Mr. Dunworthy’s ordered all these schedule changes-”
“Were they ones historians requested?” Eileen asked. Perhaps if she asked Mr. Dunworthy-
“No,” Linna said, “and they’re all absolutely furious, which is something else the lab’s had to deal with. I’ve done nothing but-” The telephone rang. “Sorry.” She crossed the lab to answer the phone next to the console. “Hullo? Yes, I know you were scheduled to go to the Reign of Terror first-”
The door of the lab opened and Gerald Phipps came in. Oh, no, Eileen thought, just what I need. Gerald was the most tiresome person she knew. “Where’s Badri?” he demanded.
“He’s not here,” Eileen said, “and Linna’s on the phone.”
“I suppose they’ve changed your date of departure as well,” he said, waving a printout at her. “Is this for that silly VE-Day assignment you’re always on about?”
No, I’m not going to VE-Day. Not unless I can persuade Mr. Dunworthy to change his mind. Which seemed unlikely. When she went to see him, he’d refused not only to let her go, but to even listen to her worries about her evacuees all returning to London.
“No,” she said stiffly to Gerald. “I’m observing World War II evacuees.”
He laughed. “Are that and VE-Day the most exciting assignments you could think of?” he asked, and for a moment she actually wished Alf and Binnie were there to set him on fire.
“The lab rescheduled your departure date?” she asked to change the subject.
“Yes,” he said, glancing impatiently over at Linna, who was still on the phone.
“No, I know you were supposed to do the storming of the Bastille first-” Linna said.
“But it can’t be changed,” Gerald said. “I’ve already been through and made all the arrangements. And got my costume from Wardrobe. If my arrival’s changed from August, I’ll need a whole new suit of clothes. I’m certain when I explain the circumstances, they’ll change it back. This isn’t an ordinary assignment where one can waltz in anytime. It was difficult enough getting it set up in the first place.” He launched into a long explanation of where he was going and the preparations he’d made.
Eileen only half listened. It was obvious he’d pounce on Linna the moment she got off the phone, and by the time he finished shouting at her and Eileen got to speak to her, Linna would be in no mood to move another departure date. And in the meantime, her two days were ticking away, and she hadn’t even been to Oriel yet to sign up for lessons with Transport. “I think I’d best come back later,” she interrupted Gerald to say, and started for the door.
“Oh, but I thought we could get together after this, and I could-”
Tell me more about your assignment? No, thank you. “I’m afraid I can’t. I’m going back almost immediately.”
“Oh, too bad. I say, will you still be there in August? I could take the train up to-where is it you are?”
“Warwickshire.”
“Up to Warwickshire some weekend to brighten your existence with tales of my derring-do.”
I can imagine. “No, I’m afraid I come back at the beginning of May.” Thank goodness. She waved to Linna and walked quickly out of the lab before he could propose anything else. First the Hodbins and now Gerald, she thought, stopping outside the door to put on her coat and gloves.
But this wasn’t February, it was April, and a lovely day. Linna’d said rain was forecast for late this afternoon, but for now it was warm. She took her coat off as she walked. That was the most difficult thing about time travel, remembering where and when one was. She’d forgotten she wasn’t still a servant and called Linna “ma’am” twice, and now she kept looking nervously behind her to make certain Alf and Binnie weren’t following her. She reached the High, stepped into the street, and was nearly hit by a bicycle whizzing past.
You’re in Oxford, she told herself, stepping hastily back up on the curb, not Backbury. She crossed the street, looking both ways this time, and started along the sunlit High, suddenly jubilant. You’re in Oxford. There’s no blackout, no rationing, no Lady Caroline, no Hodbins-
“Merope!” someone shouted. She turned around. It was Polly Churchill. “I’ve been calling to you all the way down the street,” Polly said breathlessly as she caught up to her. “Didn’t you hear me?”
“No… I mean, yes… I mean, I didn’t realize you were calling me at first. I’ve been trying so hard to think of myself as Eileen O’Reilly these last months, I don’t even recognize my own name anymore. I had to have an Irish name because of my posing as a maid-”
“And your red hair,” Polly said.
“Yes, and Eileen is all anyone’s called me in months. I’ve practically forgotten my name is Merope, though I suppose that’s better than forgetting one’s cover name, which is what I kept doing the first week I was in Backbury, and on my very first assignment! How do you manage to remember your cover names?”
“I’m lucky. Unlike your Christian name, mine’s been around for a good part of history, and I can always use it or one of its many nicknames. I can sometimes even use my last name. When I can’t-Churchill’s not really an option for World War II-I use Shakespeare.”
“Polly Shakespeare?”
“No,” Polly said, laughing. “Names from Shakespeare. I had the plays implanted when I did that sixteenth- century assignment, and they’re full of names. Especially the history plays, though for the Blitz it’s going to be Twelfth Night. I’ll be Polly Sebastian.”
“I thought you’d already gone to the Blitz.”
“No, not yet. The lab’s had difficulty finding me a drop site that met all of Mr. Dunworthy’s requirements. He’s such a fusspot. So, since it’s a multitime project, I did one of the other parts first. I only just got back
