“And had it?” Mike asked.
“No, and when I told her that, she said, ‘Good,’ and looked at Badri.”
“Who was she talking to, do you know?”
“No. I assume it was Mr. Dunworthy. She called him sir.”
“And it was an increase?” Mike asked eagerly. “Not a decrease? You’re sure?”
“Yes. Why?”
Because then there wasn’t too little slippage, Polly thought. And it couldn’t have let Mike—or me—go to a place where we could alter events.
“They questioned Phipps on his slippage, too,” Mike said. “Did they say anything to you about it when you came through, Polly?”
“They asked me to note how much there was and tell them when I reported in.”
“And how much was there?”
“Four and a half days. It was only supposed to be an hour or two. I assumed there was a divergence point that—”
“I don’t think so,” Mike said excitedly. “I think a bunch of drops were experiencing an increase in slippage, and it was enough to worry them. Which means it couldn’t have been a few days’ worth. It must have been weeks. Or months.”
“And that’s why our retrieval teams aren’t here?” Polly said. “Because the slippage sent them to November or December instead?”
He nodded.
“So all we need to do is wait for them to come fetch us?” Eileen said eagerly.
“No. It might be a while before they get here, and in case you haven’t noticed, this is kind of a dangerous place. The sooner we can find a working drop and get out of here, the better.”
“But if there’s slippage, then Gerald’s drop won’t open either, will it?” Polly asked.
“Even if it doesn’t, he may know more about what the slippage problem is and how long we’re looking at. That means finding him’s still our first priority. And our second’s to make sure the retrieval team can find us when they get here. Eileen, have you had a letter from Lady Caroline?”
“No, not yet,” Eileen said, looking at Polly. She was obviously afraid he was going to ask her if she’d written the Hodbins.
“What about you, Mike?” Polly asked hastily. “Have you left a trail of bread crumbs for your team to follow?”
“What about you, Mike?” Polly asked hastily. “Have you left a trail of bread crumbs for your team to follow?”
“Yes, I wrote the hospital in Dover and Sister Carmody at Orpington, and I sent my address to the barmaid at the Crown and Anchor.”
“Barmaid?” Eileen said.
“Yes.” He told them about Daphne’s coming to see him in hospital. “She’ll tell everybody in Saltram-on-Sea. I’ll put this ‘Meet me in Victoria Station’ message in tomorrow’s paper when I go down to the Express in the morning. I’m going to see if I can talk the paper into having me write a piece on ‘Our Biggin Hill Heroes.’
That’ll help me get access, and I can earn some money while I’m at it. Maybe they’ll even pay my way.”
“But aren’t we all going?” Eileen asked.
“No, I’ll be able to get there quicker and find out more in a shorter time if I’m on my own.”
“And I can’t leave my job,” Polly said.
“I know,” Eileen said reluctantly. “It’s only … I think it’s a bad idea for us to split up when it took us so long to find one another.”
“We’re not splitting up,” Mike said. “We’re doing what Shackleton did.”
“Shackleton? Is he an historian?” Eileen asked.
“No, Ernest Shackleton, the Antarctic explorer. They were trapped in the ice, and he had to leave his crew behind to go get help. If he didn’t, none of them would get out. That’s what I’m doing—going off to find help. If Gerald’s at Biggin Hill, I’ll ring you and have you come there.”
“You won’t go through without us?”
“Of course not. I’ll get you both out, I promise. In the meantime, Eileen, I want you to get your name on file at the department stores, and Polly, keep trying to scout up an ABC.”
“I will,” she said.
She tried, with no luck at all. She also made a list of the next week’s raids for Mike and Eileen to memorize, spent a fruitless evening in Victoria Station “by the clock” waiting for the retrieval team and being accosted by soldiers, and then went to rehearsal in the hopes that Lila and Viv would be there. They were, but the troupe was rehearsing Act Two, which everyone was in, so she had no chance to ask them.
Mike returned from Biggin Hill Friday morning. “No luck,” he told Polly, leaning over her counter at Townsend Brothers. “He’s not at Biggin Hill. I got a look at every one of the ground crew and all the pilots. I don’t suppose Eileen remembered the airfield name while I was gone?”
Polly shook her head.
“I was afraid of that. I brought a new list of names for her to look at. Is she at Mrs. Rickett’s?”
