LITMIR.BIZ

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minor shit, and twice a night for the really terrible shit. For the stray bombs, they don’t even bother alerting us anymore. Last week, we had our first all clear day since September. The Krauts couldn’t fly. We were never more grateful for crap British weather than we were that day, weren’t we, Folgate?”

      The squad revs into action. Even Frankie leaves her puzzle, gets her coat and goes to stand by Phil’s side. The bone counter goes with the doctor? She has the stony demeanor of a mortician. Duncan grabs the sticks and cricket bats piled in the corner next to the umbrellas. In less than two minutes, eight of them are ready to head out. Peter Roberts, Lucinda, and Liz remain behind. So do Nick and Kate. “I’m working a double tomorrow at the docks,” says Nick.

      “I’m working a double tomorrow at Royal London,” says Kate.

      Liz says nothing.

      “Julian, are you coming?” asks Maria.

      “Of course.” Why couldn’t she be one of the ones who stays behind? Why couldn’t she be Liz.

      A peevish Finch addresses Julian. “Do you have ID? You can’t go outside without it.”

      “I lost my ID.”

      “Then you can’t go.”

      “Who’s gonna check it, Finch, you?” Wild says, pushing Julian past Finch and toward the stairs. Finch runs around to get in front of them.

      “What about your ration card, got that?”

      “Lost that, too,” Julian replies calmly, despite the fact that Finch is crowding him in the narrow stairwell. “Do I need my ration card? Are we going out to eat?”

      “He’s got you there, Finch,” Wild says.

      “He won’t fit in the jeep,” Finch says.

      “He will,” Wild says. “We’ll tie Dunk to the roof.”

      “Try it,” Duncan says, his huge frame towering over Wild.

      “Where’s your gas mask?” Finch demands. He’s being petty and rude and doesn’t care. “Because you can’t be outside if you don’t have one. It’s the law.”

      “Pipe down, archbishop!” Wild says to Finch. “Jules gave his to a dying child. That’s why he doesn’t have it. Right, Jules?” Smiling, he adds, “You don’t mind if I call you Jules, do you?”

      “I don’t mind,” Julian says, scanning Wild’s open face.

      From his trench coat, Wild produces a gas mask. “Here, take mine. We’ll get you another one. Just go to the council tomorrow, say you lost yours.”

      “Council won’t give it to him without ID,” Finch says. “You can’t go without yours either, Wild. It’s the law.”

      “Blimey, shut up, Finch!” Wild yells. “Folgate, of all the guys out there, why him? You’d be better off with Nick. The man never says a word.”

      “Fuck off!” says Nick.

      “Or old Robbie.”

      “I’m married, thank you,” Peter Roberts says, glancing up from his French book. “Married thirty-five years.”

      “Us, too,” Lucinda says, glancing up from her knitting. “Married thirty-five years. But my Phil is clearly intent on making me a widow, the way he keeps going out there in the mobile units, risking not just his life, but our daughters’ lives as well. Why are you going again, Phil? You just went yesterday. You, too, Sheila.”

      “I’m a doctor, Luce.”

      “I’m a nurse, Mum.”

      “They have plenty of other doctors, other nurses.”

      “No, they don’t.”

      “I told my kids—peace, war, no matter what, we’re staying together,” Lucinda tells Julian. “No one is getting evacuated.”

      “And here we all are, Mum,” Sheila says. “Staying together. Going out together on the Mobile Unit. Mum, Kate, want to come? So we can all stay together?”

      “Don’t be cheeky,” Lucinda says. “Someone has to stay with your sister.”

      The siren continues to wail.

      “Mia,” Julian calls out, “you don’t happen to have an extra coat for me, do you?” Why is he always grubbing for a cloak?

      The passageway quietens down. The pitched warble above is the only sound.

      “Why did you call me that?” she says. “No one calls me Mia but my mum.”

      “Yeah,” Finch says. “Her name is Ma-ri-a.”

      “You can pronounce your own girlfriend’s name?” Wild says. “Well done!” He throws Julian one of his coats. “Here, take mine. Let’s go.”

      “I don’t mind you calling me that, by the way,” Mia says quietly to Julian in the stairwell. “I just wanted to know why you did, that’s all.”

      “I knew someone like you once,” Julian says. “Her name was Mia.”

      Mia smiles. “Yeah, but did she look like me?”

      “She looked just like you.”

      He doesn’t meet her questioning eye as they climb the stairs.

       6

       Musketeers

      THE STREET IS COLD AND DARK. JULIAN BUTTONS HIS COAT. They feel their way down Princes Street, down the block-long granite sidewall of the Bank of England. The Rescue Squad jeep and the Heavy Mobile Unit medical truck are parked behind the bank on Lothbury. Julian doesn’t know how anyone can find Lothbury. He cannot see his hand before his face. In the blacked-out city, the streetlights are off, and the windows are covered with curtains. The night sky is under cloud. Finch gets behind the wheel of the jeep, Duncan rides shotgun, Julian, Mia, and Wild pile in the back. Phil, Sheila, Shona, and Frankie ride separately in the HMU van.

      Julian had gambled on where he might end up and has read a bit about the Battle of Britain, about the bombs and the ruins. Here’s what he didn’t read about: under the night sky, the relentless air raid alarm is an insanity maker. It’s an echoey, up and down howling of a million wolves. Julian doesn’t know how everyone doesn’t plug up their ears and scream. His compatriots seem a lot calmer than he is, even the girl.

      Especially the girl.

      “Where are we headed to tonight, dove?” Finch says to her.

      Leaning over Julian’s lap, Mia sticks her head out the window and listens to the drone of the enemy plane engines. Julian sucks in his breath and closes his eyes. Do any of us really know where we’re going, C.J.?

      “Let’s drive to Stepney,” she says, settling back between Julian and Wild. “Something always falls near the docks.” She glances at Julian. He attempts to affect a neutral face. “Stepney, Wapping, Bethnal Green, Shadwell. All of East End is in pretty bad shape. Where are you from, Julian?”

      “The East End,” Julian replies. “The East End originally,” he amends, knowing he won’t be able to fake a “been there, seen that” indifference to the coming destruction. “I’ve been away. Is Finch going to turn the lights on?” Finch is driving without them.

      Mia shakes her head. “Can’t. Not allowed.”

      “He plans to drive all the way to Stepney in the dark?”

      “That’s one of Finch’s many gifts,” Mia says.

      “You

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