“This is Alf, Trot, and Binnie,” Polly said, indicating each in turn.
“Vivien,” Binnie corrected. “Like Vivien Leigh.”
“Alf, Trot, and Vivien,” Polly said resignedly, and Colin shook hands with Alf and then Trot.
“Did you look for Polly for a hundred years?” Trot asked.
“Nearly,” he replied, and turned to Binnie. “It’s an honor to meet you, Vivien,” he said solemnly, and Binnie shot Polly a triumphant glance.
“Why can’t you be in the pantomime?” Alf asked Polly.
“Can’t be in the pantomime?” Miss Laburnum said, alarmed. “Oh, but Miss Sebastian, you can’t desert us now. Whom shall we find to play the part of principal boy?”
“I’ll do it,” Binnie said. “I know all the lines.”
“Don’t be a noddlehead,” Alf said. “You ain’t old enough.”
“I am so.”
“You’re already a fairy,” Eileen said, “and a bramblebush. You’re too important to the pantomime to play any other parts,” and before Alf could put in his twopence worth, “Alf, go and tell Sir Godfrey that the carpenter will be here in just a moment. And help him put the scrim back up in the meantime. Take Trot with you. And Nelson.”
Which was a cruel thing to do to poor Sir Godfrey, but at least it got rid of Alf for the moment. Now if they could only get rid of Miss Laburnum, who was saying,
“But we shall never be able to find another principal boy at this late date. I entreat you, Miss Sebastian. Think of how disappointed the children will be.”
“I ain’t a child,” Binnie said, “and I am so old enough to play the Prince. Listen.” She flung her bramble- covered arms out dramatically. “ ‘Long years ’ave I searched—’ ”
“Hush,” Eileen said. “Go and fetch Polly’s costume and bring it to me.”
Binnie took off at a run toward the stage, and Eileen turned to Miss Laburnum. “I’ll substitute for her.”
“But you can’t,” Polly blurted out. “You’re going with us,” and then she could have kicked herself because Binnie was tearing back up the aisle, demanding, “What does she mean, you’re goin’ with them, Eileen? You ain’t goin’ away, are you?”
“No. She was talking about my going to her wedding,” Eileen said glibly. “She and Lieutenant Templer are going to be married, and I should love to go, but someone has to stay behind to do the pantomime.” She turned to Polly and Colin. “You must promise to write me all about the wedding.”
“Wedding?” Miss Laburnum said to Polly. “You’re being married? Oh, well then, of course you must go! But couldn’t the wedding wait till after the performance?
Sir Godfrey had his heart set on—”
Eileen shook her head. “She hasn’t time. There are licenses to get and arrangements and things—”
Colin nodded. “We’re going to see Dean Matthews now.”
“And Lieutenant Templer only has a twenty-four-hour leave,” Eileen said smoothly, “but it’s all right. I can play the Prince. Binnie will help me with my lines, won’t you, Binnie?”
What are you doing? Don’t lie to Binnie, Polly thought, even if we do need to get out of here. She’s already had too many betrayals, too many abandonments.
“Eileen—” she said warningly.
“Binnie,” Eileen said, ignoring her, “go fetch Polly’s costume and bring it to me. You’d best go with her, Miss Laburnum. The doublet will need to be taken up. I’m shorter than Polly.”
Miss Laburnum nodded and started down the aisle. “Come, Binnie.”
Binnie stayed where she was. “When I had the measles, you said you wouldn’t leave,” she said. “You promised.”
“I know,” Eileen said.
“The vicar says breaking a promise is a sin.”
Tell her sometimes it’s not possible to keep promises, Polly willed her. Tell her—
“The vicar’s right,” Eileen said. “It is a sin. I’m not leaving, Binnie.”
“You swear you’re stayin’?” Binnie said.
“I swear,” Eileen said, and smiled at her. “Who’d take care of you and Alf if I left? Now, go with Miss Laburnum.” And Binnie ran off after her.
This time Polly waited until she was certain they were out of earshot and then said, “You shouldn’t have lied to her. It isn’t fair. You owe it to her to tell her that you’re leaving.”
“I can’t tell her that,” Eileen said.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not going back with you.”
Parting is such sweet sorrow.
—WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, ROMEO AND JULIET
London—19 April 1941
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE NOT GOING BACK?” POLLY said, staring at Eileen standing there calmly in the
