With one lazy blink, Lennox did so.
In fifteen minutes, Hugh arrived at an Air Raid Precautions post near Green Park Station. A BBC mobile recording van was parked outside, and Hugh greeted Tom Young and his crew.
“We’re already hooked into the telephone line.” Young leveled his gaze at Hugh. “Remember, this is a live broadcast.”
Fletcher had put faith in Hugh to allow an outside broadcast. Misguided faith on Fletcher’s part, but Hugh intended not to break it. “Someday gold shall aspire to be as good as Collingwood.”
A smile twitched in the corner of Young’s mouth. Then he tapped his wristwatch. “You’ll have three minutes. I’ll give you signals at thirty seconds, ten, and five. I’ll bring the microphone when it’s ready.”
“Thank you. I’ll go inside and arrange my interviews.” Hugh entered the building, housed in a school that had evacuated to the country.
A petite middle-aged woman crossed his path, wearing the ill-fitting blue mackintosh coat used by female wardens.
“Excuse me, ma’am. I’m Hugh Collingwood with the BBC, and I’m—”
“Hugh Collingwood!” She clapped her hand over her mouth. “That voice—it’s as handsome in person—that is—I mean—”
“Mrs. Byrne, why don’t you see to your duties?” Beatrice Granville approached. “Ah, Hugh, it’s good to see you. It’s been too long.”
“It has.” Hugh shook the hand of the tall redhead who had once been good friends with Cecil. “I’m afraid I have little time before our broadcast. Would you please introduce me around? I’d like to interview three volunteers. I’ve already met Mrs. Byrne.”
Mrs. Byrne giggled like a schoolgirl.
With not much work, Hugh could put her at ease and have a charming interview.
“You’ll interview me only,” Beatrice said. “No one else is capable or willing. And two are foreigners. They have accents.”
He’d judge capability, willingness, and accents for himself. “Please introduce me.”
Beatrice dipped her chin and introduced half a dozen men and women, none beyond hope. In Hugh’s experience, keen interest and stimulating questions never failed.
Last, Beatrice introduced him to Nilima Sharma and Aleida Martens. Each had a confident carriage and a light accent. This was exactly what Hugh wanted, to show all of London rising above differences and pulling together. “Would you ladies be interested—”
“Miss Sharma, you’re late for your duties,” Beatrice said. “Please take Mrs. Martens with you, as she is still training.” She clapped her hands twice, a woman accustomed to dismissing the help.
“Yes, ma’am.” The two ladies hurried off.
And ... the other volunteers had disappeared too.
If Hugh weren’t careful, he would have the dullest of interviews as Beatrice pontificated for three minutes.
He had Beatrice describe the volunteers’ duties so he knew which questions to ask, and he planned the order for his interview.
Soon Young brought in Hugh’s microphone and headphones, trailing yards of cord back to the recording van. Young also wore headphones. They could each hear the BBC broadcast, and Young studied his wristwatch, synchronized with the clocks at Broadcasting House.
After Hugh heard his introduction on the air, he smiled at Young as if he were every man, woman, and child seated around a wireless set tuned to the Home Service. “This is Hugh Collingwood reporting live from an Air Raid Precautions postsomewhere in London. The volunteers at this post have left for their rounds, armed only with helmet and torch. And on those meager tools and on those watchful eyes rest the safety of a nation.”
Hugh lowered his voice a grim notch. “Whilst we are loath to imagine German bombers over our fair isle, we must prepare ourselves for that possibility. Taking proper air raid precautions applies not only in London but in every village and town. Although Hitler might not wish to bomb your village green, the lights in your cottage could lead his pilots to the airfields and ports he does indeed wish to destroy.”
Hugh faced Beatrice and let light back into his voice. “I’m standing here with Miss Beatrice Granville. Miss Granville, would you please describe the duties your volunteers will perform tonight as the city sleeps?”
Beatrice pontificated, but in an articulate way and with a refreshing touch of self-effacing humor. Hugh guided her with questions and comments as she discussed blackout regulations.
When Young signaled thirty seconds remaining, Hugh helped Beatrice complete her final thought. And when he signaled ten seconds, Hugh spun to face his engineer.
“So tonight, if your air raid warden should chide you for the sliver of light peeking from your kitchen window, please be understanding and leap to close the curtain. The wardens are seeking the safety of your family, your town, and your nation. This is Hugh Collingwood reporting from somewhere in London.”
He finished just as Young made a fist to say his time was up.
