Page 9 of Strangers in Time

“I was just wonderin’ ’bout the gent at the bookshop there.”

“What about him?”

“Tall, thin fellow with glasses? I. Oliver?”

“That’s right.IgnatiusOliver.”

“He must like books.”

“I suppose he does, running a bookshop,” she said conde–scendingly.

“Has he been here long?”

She straightened and held the broom in a defensive posture. “Why? What’s it to you?” She ran her gaze over him. “Wait a mo’, where are you from?”

“London.”’

“Don’t be daft. I meant what part.”

“East of here.”

She gave him a knowing look. “I thought so, though you don’t exactly talk like your kind.”

This ruffled Charlie. “Right, Miss, East End, part that got bombed.”

“Weallgot bombed, Mister Cheeky, thank you very much.” But she shivered a bit. “My younger brother worked at the docks. He was killed in the Blitz.”

“Sorry to hear that,” said Charlie quite sincerely.

She shivered again, and looked at the slice of sky visible in the alley. “Let’s hope we never see the likes of that again.”

“So, is Mr. Oliver nice, then? See, I was thinkin’ ’bout askin’ him for a job.”

She squinted at him. “A job? You’re still in school, aren’t you?”

“I’m all done. Have to make my own way now.”

“Then you can go work in a factory or on a farm.”

“No farms round London, least that I’ve seen. So,ishe a nice bloke?”

“Nice enough. I mean, he’s not what you would call outgoing. But I’ve seen him smile now and then. Today, that counts as downright loquacious.”

When Charlie looked at her funny she added, “Means ‘talks a lot.’ He’s also one of them air raid wardens. Goes out in his tin hat, with his torch, and cape all glowing, and looks out for planes andbombs and helps folks what needs it. Takes ’em to the bomb shelters and like. Knows everybody’s name hereabouts. Has to so’s he can keep track of who’s in the shelters and who’s not. Tries to roust me every time, but I usually stay in my basement when the sirens go off. He’s quite brave. Won the George Medal. Pulled some folks from a bombed building that caught fire. He’s still got the burns from that. Then he managed to turn off the gas before it took the whole block out.”

“How come he’s not in the army? He a conchie?” asked Charlie, referring to a conscientious objector.

“He’s too old.” She pointed to her face. “And his eyes aren’t so good. Wears the specs. But the war keeps going, they’ll come for the likes of him, blind or not, I imagine. Won’t be no men left here, young or old. Bloody Hitler. I know the wireless says we’re winning now, and the war might be over soon, but it don’t seem like it.”

“Has he had the shop long?”

“Oh, it wasn’t his shop.”

“No?”

“No, it was… Oh, here he comes now.”

Charlie looked to see Oliver turn down the alley. He said quickly to the woman. “I best be gettin’ on.”

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