London—Winter 1941
London—Winter 1941
Croydon
London—Winter 1941
London—7 May 1945
London—Winter 1941
London—Winter 1941
London—Winter 1941
London—Winter 1941
Kent—April 1944
Imperial War Museum, London—7 May 1995
Dover—April 1944
Imperial War Museum, London—7 May 1995
Wales—May 1944
London—Spring 1941
London—May 1944
London—Spring 1941
Imperial War Museum, London—7 May 1995
Kent—June 1944
Imperial War Museum, London—7 May 1995
Kent—October 1944
Kent—October 1944
London—Spring 1941
Croydon—October 1944
London—Spring 1941
London—Spring 1941
London—Spring 1941
Imperial War Museum, London—7 May 1995
London—19 April 1941
London—19 April 1941
Imperial War Museum, London—7 May 1995
London—7 May 1945
London—19 April 1941
About the Author
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I want to say thank you to all the people who helped me and stood by me with Blackout and All Clear as one book morphed into two and I went slowly mad under the strain: my incredibly patient editor, Anne Groell, and my long-suffering agent, Ralph Vicinanza; my even longer-suffering secretary, Laura Lewis; my daughter and chief confidante, Cordelia; my family and friends; every librarian within a hundred-mile radius; and the baristas at Margie’s, Starbucks, and the UNC student union who gave me tea—well, chai—and sympathy on a daily basis. Thank you all for putting up with me, standing by me, and not giving up on me or the book.
But most especially, I want to thank the marvelous group of ladies who were at the Imperial War Museum the day I was there doing research on the Blitz—women who, it turned out, had all been rescue workers and ambulance drivers and air-raid wardens during the Blitz, and who told me story after story that proved invaluable to the book and to my understanding of the bravery, determination, and humor of the British people as they faced down Hitler. And I want to thank my wonderful husband, who found them, sat them down, bought them tea and cakes, and then came to find me so I could interview them. Best husband ever!
Well, he hasn’t come yet, sir, he’s more than a bit late tonight.
—LONDON PORTER TO ERNIE PYLE, REFERRING
TO THE GERMAN BOMBERS
London—26 October 1940
BY NOON MICHAEL AND MEROPE STILL HADN’T RETURNED from Stepney, and Polly was beginning to get really worried. Stepney was less than an hour away by train. There was no way it could take Merope and Michael— correction, Eileen and Mike; she had to remember to call them by their cover names—no way it could take them six hours to go fetch Eileen’s belongings from Mrs. Willett’s and come back to Oxford Street. What if there’d been a raid and something had happened to them? The East End was the most dangerous part of London.
There weren’t any daytime raids on the twenty-sixth, she thought. But there weren’t supposed to have been five fatalities at Padgett’s either. If Mike was right, and he had altered events by saving the soldier Hardy at Dunkirk, anything was possible. The space-time continuum was a chaotic system, in which even a minuscule action could have an enormous effect.
