“Oh, yes, and how do you know that?”
“I just know it. Trust me.”
“I bet you’re a loony. Where did you escape from? It’s all right. You can tell me. I won’t grass on you, promise.”
“I’m not a loony. I happen to have… privileged information, that’s all.”
“So you are a spy!”
“I told you. I came here looking for a friend of mine, that’s all. But you shouldn’t worry about the war. Once the United States gets involved – that’s going to be the end of it.”
Petty looked baffled. “You just said we were going to win.”
“Of course you’re going to win. We’ll be sending over planes and ground troops and tanks and you name it.”
“Oh, great. How are we going to stand up to that? We’ve got hardly any air force and most of our army got killed in France and the King George V was sunk last week and that was our only battleship.”
“I don’t understand. We’re sending more of everything. The Germans are going to collapse.”
Petty blew out smoke and shook her head in bewilderment. “The Germans? What have the Germans got to do with it?”
“They’re bombing you to hell, aren’t they?”
“The Germans? That proves it, you need locking up. The Germans wouldn’t bomb us. They’ve done nothing but send us ships and tanks and food. They’re our allies, the Germans. Same royal family, same blood. Why would the Germans want to bomb us?”
Josh was speechless at first. Then he pointed a single finger upward, and said, “Those are not Germans?”
“Of course they’re not Germans. They’re bloody Yanks.”
“Americans? Americans are bombing London?”
Petty sucked on her cigarette and tugged her hemline up a little higher. “Do you know something, I believe you. You can’t be a spy. You’re too bloody stupid to be a spy. In fact you’re too bloody stupid to be a loony.”
“Jesus. Americans are bombing London. But why?”
“Don’t ask me, darling. They call it the War of Independence. They don’t want to be part of the good old British Empire any more. And of course the bloody French are helping them, letting them base all their bombers in France. But, you know, what can you do? I don’t think there’s any point in fighting. They’re going to win anyway, aren’t they? The sooner they invade, the better, as far as I’m concerned. Life is going to be ten times better, under the Yanks. All cocks and chocolate.”
It was then that Josh knew for sure that Ella had been right, and he was wrong. The world needed to turn through a complete twenty-four hour cycle before you could venture through the doors again. The first parallel London was the London of Frank Mordant and the Hoodies. This must be the second London. And who knew how many infinitely different versions of London lay beyond, like the endless reflections in a dressing-table mirror?
* * *
The bombing eased for a while, although Petty said that they should stay in the cellar until they heard the “all clear”.
“Cup of tea?” she asked him.
“No thanks. You don’t have anything stronger, do you?”
She produced a half-bottle of Gordon’s gin from under her chair and poured two large measures into teacups. “What shall we drink to?” she asked.
“Peace,” Josh suggested.
“I don’t know. How about clean knickers?”
“OK, then.” He lifted his cup. “Peace, and clean knickers.”
“That’s what I’m really looking forward to, when it’s all over,” said Petty. “Clean white cotton knickers, with a lacy frill.”
Josh said, “How long has this been going on? This war?”
“Do you know, I can’t make out if you’re having me on toast.”
“I promise you, I’m serious.”
“Well, all right, then. But I still think you’re kidding me. The war’s been going on for nearly a year now. The bloody Government said it would all be over by Christmas. I don’t know why they didn’t just let the Yanks go off on their own. But, oh no. Treason, they called it, and then the Navy sank that big American aircraft carrier, and that was it. All bloody hell broke loose.” She looked at Josh for a long time, playing with one of her earrings. It was a plastic poodle with green glass eyes. “I like you, you know,” she said, after a while. “I know you’re supposed to be the enemy and everything. But you’ve got something about you, you know? You’re thoughtful.”
“I’m confused, if that’s what you mean.”
“I just don’t understand how you don’t know nothing about the war. The Yanks have been bombing us for months and months. It’s not exactly something you wouldn’t notice.”
“I haven’t been here. I’ve been … away.”
“Bloody hell, where? Mars?”
Josh leaned forward. “If you want to know the truth, I came from another London.”
Petty gave him a smile of bewilderment. “Another London?”
“I know it’s hard to believe, but there are probably hundreds of Londons, all of them different, all with a different history. There are doors between them – ways to get through – and if you know how to do it you can get through these doors, from one London into the next. In the London I came from, there’s no war, no bombing, nothing. There’s plenty to eat and drink. There are restaurants, nightclubs, you name it. Clean knickers, too.”
Petty blew out smoke. “If that’s true, what did you come here for? To see how miserable we all are, and have a good old laugh about it?”
“I came here by accident. I was trying to find another London, but not this one.”
“So what are you going to do? Listen to me! I’m talking like I really believe you.”
“I’m going to try to get back to the London I started from, and have another crack at finding the right one.”
Petty didn’t say anything for a while, but she didn’t take her eyes away from him, either. She started to gnaw at the side of her thumbnail. At last she said, “You’re having me on toast, aren’t you?”
“Why should I do that? If it’s a joke, it’s a pretty goddamned stupid one, isn’t it?”
“Perhaps you’re expecting to have your wicked way with me, without paying for it.”
“I don’t want my way with you, wicked or otherwise. I’m involved with somebody else.”
“What, engaged, are you?”
“Kind of.”
“Would she mind if you took me back with you?”
“Say what?”
“Your fiancée or whatever she is. Would she mind if you took me back with you? To your London, with the restaurants and the nightclubs and everything?”
“So you do believe me?”
“I don’t know. Either you’re completely bonkers or else you’re telling the truth. But you don’t talk like you’re bonkers. You meet loads of people with shell-shock and that, and they talk about their families like they’re still alive, and stuff like that, and then you find out that they all got bombed. I had one bloke who thought he was an angel. But you don’t talk like one of them.”
Josh checked his watch. It was a quarter after three in the morning, and he was exhausted. “Do you mind if I get some sleep?” he asked. “I have to wait a full twenty-four hours before I can go back to my own London. Otherwise I’ll end up in another London like this. Or worse.”
“Couldn’t be worse, darling,” said Petty, finishing her gin. “Why don’t you and me lie down for a while?”
“I’ll take the couch. No problem at all.”
“Oh, rubbish. Let’s go to bed. I’m too knackered to rape you anyway.”