“And your red hair,” Polly said.
“Yes, and Eileen is all anyone’s called me in months. I’ve practically forgotten my name is Merope, though I suppose that’s better than forgetting one’s cover name, which is what I kept doing the first week I was in Backbury, and on my very first assignment! How do you manage to remember your cover names?”
“I’m lucky. Unlike your Christian name, mine’s been around for a good part of history, and I can always use it or one of its many nicknames. I can sometimes even use my last name. When I can’t-Churchill’s not really an option for World War II-I use Shakespeare.”
“Polly Shakespeare?”
“No,” Polly said, laughing. “Names from Shakespeare. I had the plays implanted when I did that sixteenth-century assignment, and they’re full of names. Especially the history plays, though for the Blitz it’s going to be Twelfth Night. I’ll be Polly Sebastian.”
“I thought you’d already gone to the Blitz.”
“No, not yet. The lab’s had difficulty finding me a drop site that met all of Mr. Dunworthy’s requirements. He’s such a fusspot. So, since it’s a multitime project, I did one of the other parts first. I only just got back yesterday.”
Eileen nodded. She remembered Polly having said something about observing the World War I zeppelin attacks on London.
“I’m on my way to Balliol to report in to Mr. Dunworthy,” Polly said. “Is that where you’re going?”
“No, I must go to Oriel.”
“Oh, good, then we’re going the same direction.” She took Eileen’s arm. “We can walk part of the way together and catch up on things. So you’ve been in Backbury observing evacuees-”
“Yes, and I have a question,” Eileen said earnestly. “You’ve had loads of assignments. How do you keep from getting them all mixed together? It’s not only the names. I’m already getting confused as to where I am and when.”
“You’ve got to forget you’ve ever been anywhere or anyone else and focus completely on the situation at hand. It’s like acting. Or being a spy. You’ve got to shut out everything and be Eileen O’Reilly. Thinking about other assignments only ruins your concentration on the task at hand.”
“Even if you’re doing a multitime assignment?”
“Especially if you’re doing a multitime assignment. Focus entirely on the part or the assignment until it’s over, and then shut that out and go on to the next. Why are you going to Oriel?”
“For driving lessons.”
“Driving lessons? You’re not planning to drive to VE-Day, are you? You’ll never get through. The crowds-”
“This isn’t for VE-Day. If only it were. Mr. Dunworthy refuses to send me.”
“But you-” Polly said and stopped, frowning.
“Had my heart set on going? That doesn’t matter two pins to Mr. Dunworthy. I met with him this morning, and he told me VE-Day was already part of another assignment, and having two historians in the same temporal and spatial location was too dangerous, which is ridiculous. It isn’t as if we’d run into each other-there were thousands of people in Trafalgar Square on VE-Day. And even if we did, what does he think we’d do? Shout, ‘Oh, my, another time traveler!’ or something? I don’t suppose you know whose assignment he was talking about, Polly? I thought I might be able to persuade them to switch if they haven’t already gone. Who else is doing World War II?”
“What?” Polly said blankly. She clearly hadn’t heard a word she’d said.
“I said, who else has an assignment in World War II?”
“Oh,” Polly said. “Rob Cotton, and I believe Michael Davies does.”
“Do you know what he’s observing?”
“No, why?”
“I want to know who’s going to VE-Day.”
“Oh. I think he said something about Pearl Harbor.”
“When was Pearl Harbor?”
“The seventh of December, 1941. If it’s not VE-Day, where are you going that you need to learn how to drive?”
“Back to Warwickshire and the manor. I still have months to go on my assignment.”
“I wish I could have months. Mr. Dunworthy’s only allowing me to go to the Blitz for a few weeks. But I thought you were a maid. Servants didn’t usually drive, did they?”
“No, Lady Caroline’s insisting the staff learn so we can drive an ambulance if there’s an incident.”
“But Backbury wasn’t bombed, was it?”
“No, but Lady Caroline’s determined to do her bit-or, rather, to make her staff do it for her. She’s also made us learn to administer first aid and put out incendiaries. Next week she’ll have us all learning to fire an anti-aircraft gun.”
“You sound better prepared for the Blitz than I am. I should have done my prep in Backbury.”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” Eileen said. “You’d have had to deal with the Horrible Hodbins.”
“What are Horrible Hodbins? Some sort of weaponry?”
“That’s exactly what they are. A deadly secret weapon. They’re the worst children in history.” She told Polly about the haystack fire and trying to put Theodore on the train and about Alf and Binnie’s painting white stripes on Mr. Rudman’s Black Angus cows, “‘So’s ’e can see ’em in the blackout.’”
“It’s a pity they couldn’t have been evacuated to Berlin instead of Backbury,” Eileen said. “Two weeks of coping with Alf and Binnie, and Hitler would be begging to surrender.” They’d reached King Edward Street. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I must get to Transport. You don’t know when it closes, do you, Polly?”
“No. What automobile are you planning to learn on? A Daimler?”
“No, a Bentley. That’s what Lady Caroline-or, rather, her chauffeur-drives. Why?”
“Nothing. I was going to warn you about the Daimler’s gearbox, that’s all-one has to yank the gear stick very hard to shift into reverse gear-but you’re not going to be driving an actual ambulance, so it doesn’t matter. Does Transport have a period Bentley?”
“I don’t know, I haven’t been there yet. I only came though this morning.”
“Do you have your driving authorization form?”
“Driving authorization?” Eileen said blankly.
“Yes. You must get it from Props before you go to Oriel.”
“You mean I’ve got to go all the way back to Queen’s-?”
“No, I mean you’ve got to go to Balliol and get approval from Mr. Dunworthy, and then you must go to Props.”
“But that will take all afternoon,” Eileen protested, “and I only have two days. I’ll never learn to drive in one day.”
“I don’t understand. I thought the vicar was going to teach you to drive.”
“He is, but I’ve never even been in a 1940s automobile. I’ve got to learn how to open the door and switch on the ignition and-”
“Oh, I can easily teach you that in an hour or two. Come with me to Balliol. You can get your approval, and then I’ll go with you and show you the ropes. And I’ll speak to Mr. Dunworthy about letting you do VE-Day.”
“It won’t do any good,” Eileen said glumly. “I’ve already tried, and you know how he is when he’s made his mind up-”
“True,” Polly said almost to herself. “But he must change his mind sometimes if…”
“Polly!” They both turned and looked back. Seventeen-year-old, sandy-haired Colin Templer came racing up to them with a sheaf of printouts. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere, Polly,” he said breathlessly. “Hullo, Merope.” He turned back to Polly. “I finished the list of bombed Underground stations.”
“Colin’s been helping me with my Blitz prep,” Polly explained to Eileen.