“You needn’t worry, she hasn’t gone,” Doreen said. “I told her you were on lunch break, and she said she had other shopping to do and she’d—”
“She? Only one person? Not a man and a girl?”
“Only one, and definitely not a girl. Forty if she was a day, graying hair in a bun, rather scraggy-looking—”
Miss Laburnum. “Did she say what she was shopping for?” Polly asked.
“Yes,” Doreen said. “Beach sandals.”
Of course.
“I sent her up to Shoes. I told her it was likely too late in the season for us to carry them, but she was determined to go see. I’ll watch your counter if you want to go
—oh, here she is,” she said as the lift opened.
Miss Laburnum emerged, carrying an enormous carpetbag. “I went to see Mrs. Wyvern and obtained the coats,” she said, setting the carpetbag on Polly’s counter,
“and I thought I’d bring them along to you.”
“Oh, you needn’t have—”
“It was no bother. I spoke to Mrs. Rickett, and she said yes, your cousin could share your room. I also went to see Miss Harding about the room for your Dunkirk friend. Unfortunately, she’d already let it, to an elderly gentleman whose house in Chelsea was bombed. Dreadful thing. His wife and daughter were both killed.” She clucked sympathetically. “But Mrs. Leary has a room to let. A second-floor back. Ten shillings the week with board.”
“Is she in Box Lane as well?” Polly asked, wondering what excuse she could give after Miss Laburnum had gone to all this trouble if it was in a street on Mr.
Dunworthy’s forbidden list.
“No, she’s just round the corner. In Beresford Court.”
Thank goodness. Beresford Court wasn’t on the list either.
“Number nine,” Miss Laburnum said. “She promised me she won’t let it to anyone else till your friend’s seen it. It should do very nicely. Mrs. Leary is an excellent cook,” she added with a sigh and opened the carpetbag.
Polly caught a glimpse of bright green inside. Oh, no, she thought. It hadn’t even occurred to her when she’d asked Miss Laburnum about the coats that she might
—
“I hoped to get a wool overcoat for your gentleman friend,” Miss Laburnum said, pulling out a tan raincoat, “but this Burberry was all they had. There were scarcely any ladies’ coats either. Mrs. Wyvern says more and more people are making do with last year’s coats, and I fear the situation will only grow worse. The government’s talking of rationing clothing next—” She stopped at the expression on Polly’s face. “I know it’s not very warm—”
“No, it’s just what he needs. There’s been so much rain this autumn,” Polly said, but her eyes were on the carpetbag. She braced herself as Miss Laburnum reached in again.
“That’s why I got your cousin this,” she said, pulling out a bright green umbrella. “It’s a frightful color, I know, and it doesn’t match the black coat I obtained for her, but it was the only one without any broken spokes. And if it’s too gaudy for her, I thought we might be able to use it in The Admirable Crichton. The green would show up well onstage.”
Or in a crowd, Polly thought.
“It’s lovely, I mean, I know my cousin won’t think it too bright, and I’m certain she’ll lend it to us for the play,” she said, chattering in her relief.
Miss Laburnum laid the umbrella on the counter and pulled the black coat out of the carpetbag, then a black felt hat. “They hadn’t any black gloves, so I brought along a pair of my own. Two of the fingers are mended, but there’s still wear in them.” She handed them to Polly. “Mrs. Wyvern said to tell you that if any of Padgett’s employees are in a similar situation to send them to her and she’ll see they get coats as well.” She snapped the bag neatly shut. “Now, do you know if Townsend Brothers sells plimsolls and where I might find them?”
“Plimsolls?” Polly said. “You mean canvas tennis shoes?”
“Yes, I thought they might work instead of beach sandals. The sailors on board ship might have been wearing them, you see, when it sank. I asked in your shoe department, but they hadn’t any. Sir Godfrey simply doesn’t realize how filthy the station floors are—chewing gum and cigarette ends and who knows what else. Two nights ago, I saw a man”—she leaned across the counter to whisper—“spitting. I quite understand that Sir Godfrey has more pressing things on his mind, but—”
“We may have some in the games department,” Polly said, cutting her off in midflow. “It’s on fifth. And if we’re out of plimsolls,” which Polly was almost certain they would be, with rubber needed for the war effort, “you mustn’t worry. We’ll think of something else.”
“Of course you will.” Miss Laburnum patted her arm. “You’re such a clever girl.”
Polly escorted her over to the lift and helped her into it. “Fifth,” she said to the lift boy, and to Miss Laburnum, “Thank you ever so much. It was terribly kind of you to do all this for us.”
“Nonsense,” Miss Laburnum said briskly. “In difficult times like these, we must do all we can to help each other. Will you be at rehearsal tonight?” she asked as the lift boy pulled the door across.
“Yes,” Polly said, “as soon as I get my cousin settled in.”
If she and Mike are back by then, she added silently as she went back to her counter, but she felt certain now they would be.
You were worried over nothing, she thought, picking up the umbrella and looking ruefully at it. And it will be the same thing with Mike and Eileen. Nothing’s happened to them. There weren’t any daytime raids today. Their train’s
