Blackout. Part 33

"Did you?"

"You shouldn't think about any of that now," the nun said soothingly. "Try to rest."

"No," Mike said, shaking his head. Mistake. The movement made him violently sick. "I want to know the worst. It's important."

The doctor exchanged glances with the nun and then seemed to come to a decision. "Very well," he said. "When you were brought in, your foot was badly damaged, and you'd lost a good deal of blood. You were also suffering from exposure and shock, which meant we couldn't operate as soon as we would have liked, and by the time we did, there was a good deal of infection-"

Oh, G.o.d, Mike thought. They had to amputate the whole leg They had to amputate the whole leg.

"And after the first surgery you contracted pneumonia, so we had to wait longer than we wished to operate again. There was also considerable damage to the muscles and tendons-"

"I want to see it," Mike said, and the nun glanced quickly at the doctor. "Now."

The doctor frowned and then said, "Sister Carmody, if you'd help him to sit up," and bent over to turn a crank at the foot of the bed.

The nun put her hand behind his back for support as the bed came up. His head swerved and spun. He swallowed hard, determined not to vomit. "Are you feeling dizzy?" she asked.

Mike didn't trust himself to shake his head. "No," he said, watching as the doctor pulled back the blanket and sheet, revealing his pajama-clad leg and his ankle and beyond it, a k.n.o.bby lump of gauze in the general shape of a foot.

They didn't cut it off, Mike thought, weak with relief. He lay back limply against the nun's arm. The foot bones are still there, and the rest can be repaired as soon as I get back to Oxford The foot bones are still there, and the rest can be repaired as soon as I get back to Oxford.

"It will take some time to heal, but there's no reason you won't be able to walk again, though it will require additional surgeries. But just now you need to work on resting and regaining your strength. You're not to worry."

Easy for you to say, he thought. You're not a hundred and twenty years from home with an injured foot and primitive medical care and in an environment you haven't researched and that they will throw you out of as soon as they find out you're a civilian You're not a hundred and twenty years from home with an injured foot and primitive medical care and in an environment you haven't researched and that they will throw you out of as soon as they find out you're a civilian.

And why didn't they know that? They knew about his unfouling the ship's propeller, which meant the Commander had brought him in. Then why hadn't he told them his name?

He might not have remembered it, Mike thought. He'd immediately christened him Kansas and called him that from then on, but that didn't explain why he hadn't told them he was a reporter.

Mike drifted off to sleep still trying to figure it out, and dreamed of the drop. It wouldn't open. "It can't," Private Hardy said. "It doesn't exist."

"Why not?" Mike said and saw it wasn't Hardy, it was the dead soldier who'd been tangled in the propeller. "What's happened to the drop?"

"You weren't supposed to do it," the dead soldier said, shaking his head sadly. "You changed everything."

Mike woke drenched in a clammy sweat. Oh, G.o.d, what if his actions had had altered events? altered events?

Saving a single soldier can't change the course of the war, he told himself. There were 350,000 soldiers on those beaches. But what if Hardy was supposed to have saved an officer's life there on the beach, an officer who'd be crucial to the success of D-Day? Or what if he was supposed to have been rescued by some other boat, or by one of the destroyers? What if he was the man who'd spotted the U-boat that would otherwise have torpedoed it, and without him it would be lost with all hands? And what if that destroyer had been the one that had sunk the Bismarck? Bismarck? What if they didn't sink it, and we ended up losing the war to the Germans? What if they didn't sink it, and we ended up losing the war to the Germans?

That's why the retrieval team hasn't come, Mike thought, shivering uncontrollably. Because- "Oh, G.o.d," he said to the dead soldier, "who won the war?"

"No one as yet," the nun on night duty said cheerfully, "but I've no doubt we will in the end. Having a bad dream?" She took a thermometer out of her starched ap.r.o.n pocket, put it under his tongue, and laid her hand on his forehead. "Your fever's back up."

He felt a rush of relief. It's the fever It's the fever, he thought. You're not thinking clearly. You can't have altered events. The laws of time travel won't let you You're not thinking clearly. You can't have altered events. The laws of time travel won't let you. But they weren't supposed to have let him get anywhere near a divergence point either. And Hardy had said- "Here, these will make you feel better," the nun said, handing him two tablets and a gla.s.s of water. Thank G.o.d Thank G.o.d, he thought. At least they'd had aspirin. He swallowed them eagerly and lay back. "Try to sleep," she whispered and continued through the ward, her flashlight bobbing like Jonathan's had in the water, signaling Hardy.

Historians can't change history, Mike told himself, clenching his chattering teeth, waiting for the aspirin to take effect. If my unfouling the propeller would have altered the course of the war, the net would have sent me through a month later. Or to Scotland. Or it wouldn't have let me through at all If my unfouling the propeller would have altered the course of the war, the net would have sent me through a month later. Or to Scotland. Or it wouldn't have let me through at all. And the reason the retrieval team's not here is because it never occurred to them to look in a convent And the reason the retrieval team's not here is because it never occurred to them to look in a convent.

But when Sister Carmody came to take his temperature in the morning, he asked her if he could see a newspaper so he could make sure the war was going the way it was supposed to. "You must be feeling better," she said, smiling her pretty smile. "Do you think you could sit up and take some broth?" and when he nodded, hurried off, to return shortly with a bowl of broth.

"Did you bring the newspaper?" he asked.

"You mustn't worry yourself over the war," she said brightly, helping him sit up and propping pillows behind his back. "You must concentrate all your energy on getting well."

"What energy?" he said. Sitting up in bed, even with her help, took a tremendous effort, and when Sister Carmody handed him the bowl, his hands shook.

"Let me help with that." She took it from him. "Has anything come back?" she asked, feeding him a spoonful of broth. "Have you remembered what happened? Or the unit you were with?"

Maybe he should tell her he'd remembered so they'd transfer him to a civilian hospital where the retrieval team could find him. But what if they'd already checked the civilian hospitals and determined he wasn't there? And a different doctor might be determined to operate. "No, not yet," he said.

"You talked a good deal when you first came," she said. "You kept murmuring something about a 'drop.' We thought perhaps you might be a parachutist. Isn't that what they call it when they jump out of the plane, making a drop?"

"I don't know. Did I say anything else?"

"He said 'Oxford,'" Fordham said from the bed next to him.

"Oxford. Could that be where you're from?" the nun asked.

"I don't know," Mike said and frowned as if trying to remember. "It might be. I can't-"

"Well, you mustn't worry," she said, and offered him another spoonful, but it was too much effort to even sip at it. He waved the spoon away and lay back against the pillows, exhausted, and he must have fallen asleep because when he opened his eyes, she was gone.

"Did you bring me a newspaper?" he asked when she came to take his temperature again.

"Your fever's back," she said, writing it in the chart. "I'll fetch you something for it."

"Don't forget my newspaper," he said, and when she returned without it and with the blessed aspirin, he said slyly, "I thought seeing a paper might help me to remember."

"I'll see what I can do," she said and left.

"Which is what she always says when I ask her out," Fordham said. "It means no."

Asked her out? But he was a mere boy, and she was a nun- "I don't blame her," Fordham said. "I couldn't exactly take her dancing, could I? And by the time I'm out of this bed, she'll already be engaged to one of the doctors," but Mike had stopped listening.

She wasn't a nun, in spite of the wimple and veil, in spite of the t.i.tle "Sister." She was a nurse. Which I'd have known if I'd had time to research this era properly Which I'd have known if I'd had time to research this era properly. But if she wasn't a nun, then this wasn't a convent, and his theory of why the retrieval team hadn't found him didn't hold water. So where were they? They should have been here long before now.

Unless they didn't exist. Unless the net had malfunctioned and let him go through to somewhere he wasn't supposed to be and he had had altered the course of events. Unfouling the propeller wasn't the only thing he'd done. He'd steered the Commander around that submerged sailboat, he'd helped sailors up over the side, he'd hoisted a dog on board. And in a chaotic system, any action, no matter how inconsequential, could affect- altered the course of events. Unfouling the propeller wasn't the only thing he'd done. He'd steered the Commander around that submerged sailboat, he'd helped sailors up over the side, he'd hoisted a dog on board. And in a chaotic system, any action, no matter how inconsequential, could affect- "Sister Carmody!" he shouted, struggling to sit up. "Sister Carmody!"

"What is it?" Fordham said, alarmed. "What's wrong?"

"I've got to see a newspaper! Now!"

"I have yesterday's Herald Herald here," Fordham said. "Will that do?" here," Fordham said. "Will that do?"

"Yes."

"The problem is how to get it to you. I can't reach far enough to get it over to you, I'm afraid. Can you get out of bed, do you think?"

I have to, Mike thought, but when he tried to sit up, hot and cold and nausea washed over him, and he had to lie back, swallowing hard.

"I could read it to you, if you like," Fordham offered.

"Thank you." you."

Fordham patted around on the bed for the newspaper and propped it up against his elevated arm. "Let's see, a rector in Tunbridge Wells rang his church's bells in violation of the official edict that they're only to be rung to signal invasion-"

That's why I didn't hear the bells that night on the beach, Mike thought.

"-and was fined one pound ten," Fordham said. "There's been an overwhelming response to Lord Beaverbrook's Spitfire drive. They've collected five tons of aluminum saucepans alone. Sir G.o.dfrey Kingsman is rehearsing a new production of King Lear King Lear at-" at-"

"Isn't there anything about the war?"

"The war... let's see..." Fordham muttered. "A barrage balloon broke loose from its moorings and drifted into the spire of St. Albans Church and damaged some of the slates."

"I meant, news about how the war's going."

"Badly," he said. "As usual. The Italians. .h.i.t one of our bases in Egypt-"

Egypt? Had Britain been in Egypt in August? He didn't know enough about the war in North Africa to know what was supposed to have been happening there then. "What about the...?" He hesitated. Had they been calling it the Battle of Britain at this point? "-the air war?"

Fordham nodded. "The Germans attacked one of our convoys yesterday, and the RAF shot down sixteen of their planes. We lost seven." He turned the page, rattling the sheets. "Good Lord, the Prime Minister-"

"What about the Prime Minister?" Mike said sharply. Oh, G.o.d, what if something had happened to Churchill? England could never have won the war without him. If he'd been killed- "He looks dreadful in this photograph. It's of him rejecting Germany's latest peace proposal, but he looks like a suet pudding."

Mike let out the breath he'd been holding. England was still refusing to surrender, the RAF was still holding off the Luftwaffe, and Churchill was all right.

Fordham had finished the news stories and was reading the personal ads: "Anyone having information regarding the whereabouts of Pvt. Derek Huntsford, last seen at Dunkirk, please contact Mr. and Mrs. J. Huntsford, Chifford, Devon." "Anyone having information regarding the whereabouts of Pvt. Derek Huntsford, last seen at Dunkirk, please contact Mr. and Mrs. J. Huntsford, Chifford, Devon." Fordham shook his head. "He must not have made it back. He wasn't as lucky as you, poor chap." Fordham shook his head. "He must not have made it back. He wasn't as lucky as you, poor chap."

Lucky, Mike thought. But at least he hadn't altered events. And the war was still on track.

Fordham was reading another ad. "To let, country home in Kent. Restful location..." "To let, country home in Kent. Restful location..."

Restful, Mike thought, and fell asleep.

He jerked awake to the up-and-down wail of sirens. And shouting. One of the patients, in pajamas and bare feet, was waving a flashlight wildly around the dark ward. "Wake up!" he shouted, shining the light full in Mike's face. "They're here!"

"Who's here?" Mike said, trying to shield his eyes from the blinding light. here?" Mike said, trying to shield his eyes from the blinding light.

"The Germans, they've invaded. I only just heard it on the wireless. They're coming up the Thames."

I do not get panicky. I stay put. I say to myself: Our chaps will deal with them. I do not say: I must get out of here.-INVASION INSTRUCTIONS, 1940 1940

Warwickshire-August 1940

THE ARMY GAVE THEM TILL THE FIFTEENTH OF SEPTEMBER to vacate the manor, before which they had to cover all the furniture, crate Lady Caroline's ancestor and the other paintings, pack away the crystal and china, and keep Alf and Binnie from "helping." When Eileen went to take down the priceless medieval tapestry, she found them tossing it out the window. "We was tryin' to see if it was magic," Binnie said. "Like that flyin' carpet in the fairy story you read us." to vacate the manor, before which they had to cover all the furniture, crate Lady Caroline's ancestor and the other paintings, pack away the crystal and china, and keep Alf and Binnie from "helping." When Eileen went to take down the priceless medieval tapestry, she found them tossing it out the window. "We was tryin' to see if it was magic," Binnie said. "Like that flyin' carpet in the fairy story you read us."

They also had to make arrangements for the evacuees still at the manor. Mrs. Chambers found new homes for the Potters, the Magruders, Ralph and Tony Gubbins, and Georgie c.o.x. Mrs. Chalmers came and took Alice and Rose, and Theodore's mother wrote to say that she would be up on Sat.u.r.day. Eileen was relieved. She'd been afraid she'd have to send him kicking and screaming on the train again. "I don't want want to go home," Theodore'd said when she told him his mother was coming. "I want to stay here." to go home," Theodore'd said when she told him his mother was coming. "I want to stay here."

"You can't stay 'ere, you noddlehead," Alf said. "n.o.body's stayin' 'ere."

"Where are we we goin', Eileen?" Binnie asked. goin', Eileen?" Binnie asked.

"That hasn't been arranged yet."

They'd written Mrs. Hodbin but hadn't had an answer, and no one in Warwickshire would take them. "I've written the Evacuation Committee," the vicar said, "but they're swamped with billeting requests just now. Everyone's afraid the Germans will begin bombing London soon."

They will, Eileen thought, and then there'd be no chance at all of placing Alf and Binnie. More than a hundred thousand children had been evacuated from London after the Blitz began. They needed to find Alf and Binnie a home immediately.

Lady Caroline had sent Samuels ahead with her trunks to Chadwick House, where she was going to stay with the d.u.c.h.ess of Lynmere, which left Eileen, Una (who was useless), and Mrs. Bas...o...b.. to finish preparations for the Army's arrival on their own. And no time for Eileen to check the drop or go to Backbury to ask if anyone had been inquiring after her. Or to look for another position.

If she could find one. A number of households were making "wartime economies," which meant they were cutting back on the number of their servants, and there were no "Housemaid Wanted's" in the Backbury Bugler Backbury Bugler. Una had announced she was joining the ATS, and Mrs. Bas...o...b.. was going to Shropshire to help out a niece whose husband had joined up, so Eileen couldn't stay with either of them, and Backbury had no inn, even if she had enough money for one. And even if she did did stay, there was no guarantee the drop would open or that a retrieval team would come. It had already been nearly four months. stay, there was no guarantee the drop would open or that a retrieval team would come. It had already been nearly four months.

You're going to have to find another way of getting home, she thought. She needed to go to London, find Polly, and use her drop. If she's there If she's there.

She wasn't coming till the Blitz. It would begin in September-Eileen didn't know the exact date. I should have asked Polly I should have asked Polly, she thought, but it had never occurred to her she'd still be here when Polly arrived. And the Army didn't take possession of the manor till the middle of September. The Blitz would surely have begun by then.

The idea of being in the midst of the bombing terrified her, but she couldn't think of anyone else she could go to. Michael Davies had been in Dover, but the evacuation of Dunkirk had been months ago. He'd have long since gone back by now. She thought Gerald Phipps was here-she remembered him saying something about August when she'd seen him in the lab-but she didn't know where. He'd told her, but she couldn't remember. It had begun with a D. Or a P.

She didn't know where Polly would be either. She'd said she was going to be working in a department store in Oxford Street and that Mr. Dunworthy would only allow her to work in one that hadn't been bombed, and Eileen had a vague memory of her naming them. Which ones had she said? Eileen wished she'd paid more attention, but she'd been worrying about getting her driving authorization. She remembered one had been a man's name.

She went down to the kitchen to ask Mrs. Bas...o...b.. if she knew the names of any of Oxford Street's stores. "You're not thinking of working in one of them places, are you?" Mrs. Bas...o...b.. said.

"No, I've a cousin who does. I'm going to stay with her."

"Two girls on their own in London? With all them soldiers about? You've no more business in the big city than Una has in the ATS. I'll tell you what I told her: You stay in service where you belong."

She'd have to wait till she got to London to find out the name of the store. If she could get there. With the wages she had coming, she had enough for a second-cla.s.s ticket, but she would need money to tide her over till she found Polly. Since it was the Blitz, she might be able to sleep in a shelter, but she would still need money for meals and bus fare.

But she would have to worry about that later. She had other, more pressing problems. Theodore's mother wrote to say that the aeroplane factory she worked in had gone to double shifts and she couldn't come for Theodore till the Sat.u.r.day after next. They still hadn't heard from Alf and Binnie's mother, and when she went to the vicarage on the first of September to deliver a message from Lady Caroline, the vicar said, "I can't find anyone to take them. Their reputation obviously precedes them. We may have to resort to the Overseas Programme. They can't have heard of them in the States."

"But wouldn't it be cruel to inflict the Hodbins on another country?"

"You're right. We can't afford to alienate our allies. We'll need all the help we can get before this war is over. You still haven't heard from their mother?"

"No."

"I'm surprised. I thought she'd be the sort who'd want them back for their extra ration coupons. On the other hand, this is is Alf and Binnie. Do let me know if you hear from her. In the meantime, I'll keep looking for someone to take them. You'll be here until the fifteenth, is that right?" Alf and Binnie. Do let me know if you hear from her. In the meantime, I'll keep looking for someone to take them. You'll be here until the fifteenth, is that right?"

"Yes," she said and told him about going to London after that. "My cousin works in a department store in Oxford Street."

"Selfridges?"

"No," she said, though she seemed to remember Polly mentioning Selfridges, too. "It sounded like a man's name."