“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 theater aisle. She looked from Colin to Mr. Dunworthy. “What does she mean?”
“I’ve decided to stay,” Eileen said.
“Because they need a principal boy?” Polly burst out. “They can get Mrs. Brightford to play the Prince. Or Binnie. She knows all the lines. And how do we know the drop will open again after the pantomime’s over? You can’t—”
“I’m not staying till after the pantomime, Polly. I’m staying for good.” She looked at Colin and Mr. Dunworthy. “It’s already settled.”
“Settled? What are you talking about?”
“Remember how you saw me in Trafalgar Square on VE-Day? I wasn’t there because we hadn’t been rescued. I was there because I stayed behind.”
“No, you weren’t. There could be a dozen other reasons why you were there that day. You could have been there on some other assignment, or—”
Eileen laughed, a clear, happy laugh. “Oh, Polly, you know Mr. Dunworthy would never let me go anywhere again after this. If I want to go to VE-Day, I’m going to need to do it from here. Isn’t that right, Mr. Dunworthy?” she asked, smiling at him.
He was looking solemnly at her.
He’s going to let her stay, Polly thought incredulously. But he can’t.
“This is ridiculous, Eileen,” she said. “I don’t even know for certain it was you. I was halfway across Trafalgar Square. It might have been someone else entirely—”
“In my green coat,” Eileen said.
“Someone could have bought it at an applecart upset,” Polly said. “You said yourself it was perfect for a redhead.”
Eileen shook her head. “It was me. I have to be there so everything else can happen.”
“But there must be some other way,” Polly said, appealing to Colin. “You can’t let her—”
“That isn’t the only reason I’m staying,” Eileen said. “There’s Alf and Binnie. I promised the vicar, Mr. Goode, that I’d look after them, and I can’t let him down.”
“But there must be someone else who could take them, the rector or Mrs. Wyvern or someone,” Polly said, knowing even as she said it that it was impossible. She had already lost this argument when Eileen took them in.
“There isn’t,” Eileen said. “Binnie’s growing up far too fast as it is, and by next year England will be overrun with American soldiers. I can’t abandon her—or Alf—in the middle of a war.”
Which they might not live through even if you do stay, Polly thought. Neither Alf nor Binnie had been with Eileen on VE-Day in Trafalgar Square. But if she told her that, it would only make her more determined to stay and try to protect them.
“And if Alf’s left on his own,” Eileen was saying, “he’s likely to end up destroying the entire space-time continuum.” She smiled. “Don’t you see? I can’t leave them. There’s still a war on. And they saved my life.”
And mine, Polly thought. And England’s. And knew there was no way to talk Eileen out of this.
“But you hate it here,” she said tearfully. “The raids and the rationing and the dreadful food. You said believing you’d be able to go home someday was the only thing that kept you going.”
“I know, but wars require sacrifices. And this spot in history’s not so bad. It is, after all, England’s finest hour. And I’ll get to see VE-Day, which I always wanted to go to.”
“But—”
“Please try to understand,” Eileen said, taking Polly’s hands. “You’ve done your job by saving Sir Godfrey. My job’s not finished yet, and I can’t do it unless I stay here.”
“That isn’t true. Colin, tell her she has to—”
“He can’t,” Eileen said. “He knows I stayed.” She looked at him again. “Don’t you?”
Colin didn’t answer.