“Stay there,” she ordered, and walked quickly down the corridor.
She wasn’t certain she could find her way back to the ambulance, let alone to St. Paul’s. She hadn’t paid any attention to which way they’d come when they brought the trolley in. And she had to be quick, or Alf and Binnie would tumble to what she was doing, and she’d find them waiting for her outside.
She looked in vain for someone to ask. There—walking away down that side corridor—was someone. Not a nurse. She was hatless and wearing a navy blue coat.
An ARP warden, Eileen thought. She’d very likely just brought a patient in.
“Miss!” Eileen called. “Can you tell me where the emergency ward is?”
The young woman turned. She looked disheveled, her fair hair badly windblown, and smears of soot on her cheeks and forehead. Not an ARP warden, Eileen thought. A patient.
“Eileen! Oh, thank God!” the young woman cried, and began to run toward her.
“Polly?”
Polly flung her arms around her. “I was so afraid I’d be too late. It took me hours to get here,” she said, nearly sobbing. “There were fires everywhere, and I couldn’t get through … and I thought I’d never find the hospital … but here you are, thank God!”
They were both talking at once. “How did you find me?” Eileen asked. “I thought you were at St. Paul’s. I was just leaving to look for you. Where’s Mike?”
Polly pulled back from her. “Isn’t he here with you?”
“No, I … we got separated. I thought he went to St. Paul’s. He’s not with you?”
“No. Where did you see him last?” She stopped, staring at Eileen in horror. “What’s happened? Are you hurt?”
“No. You mean because I’m here at St. Bart’s? I was dragooned into driving an ambulance and—”
“But you’re bleeding.”
“No, I’m not,” Eileen said, and looked down at herself. The entire front of her coat was covered in dried blood. Her hands were bloody, too. A crooked line of blood had trickled down the back of her hand and wrist and into her sleeve. No wonder people had kept asking her if she was injured.
blood had trickled down the back of her hand and wrist and into her sleeve. No wonder people had kept asking her if she was injured.
“It’s not mine,” she said. “There was a lieutenant who was bleeding. I had to apply direct pressure.”
“And I ’ad to drive,” Binnie said, popping up beside her.
“I told you where to go, you pudding’ead,” Alf said. “You’d ’ave ended up bein’ burnt to ashes if I ’adn’t.”
“I would not,” Binnie said.
“You would so.” Alf turned to tug at Eileen’s bloody sleeve. “What’re you doin’ ’ere? The ambulance is that way.” He pointed back down the corridor. “And who’s she?”
“My friend Polly. Are you certain Mike didn’t come to St. Paul’s?” Eileen asked Polly. “That’s where he said he was going.”
“Who’s Mike?” Binnie asked.
“Hush,” Eileen said. “Might you have missed each other somehow?”
“Yes … I don’t know. He might have come while I was on the roofs—”
“Or he might have gone back to Blackfriars tube station to find me,” Eileen said. “He told me to wait there for him. Come along, we’ve got transport. We’ll go to St. Paul’s first. Mike may have told Mr. Bartholomew where —”
“Who’s Mr. Bartholomew?” Alf asked.
“Shh,” Eileen said. “Mike may have told him where he was going, and if he didn’t, we’ll tell Mr. Bartholomew to search between St. Paul’s and Pilgrim Street—
that’s where we got separated—and we’ll go to Blackfriars and look—”
“No,” Polly said. “Mr. Bartholomew’s here!”
“Here?”
“Yes, in this hospital.”
“Oh, well, then, that makes it simple. He can go back to St. Paul’s and look for Mike there, and we can go to Black—”
“You don’t understand,” Polly said. “I came here to find John Bartholomew, but I don’t know where he is. I’ve been asking the staff, but no one will tell me anything. I know he’s somewhere here in the hospital—”
Eileen stared blankly at her. “You haven’t found him yet?”
“No, I only just missed him. The fire watch said he’d left for hospital—he brought the man who was injured here—and I came to find him, but it’s taken me hours, and—”
“He brought him here? When?”
“I’m not certain,” Polly said. “A bit before eleven.”
John Bartholomew had been here at St. Bart’s the entire time she was transporting patients. If she’d only known. “What’s the name of the firewatcher who was injured?” Eileen asked.
