Necropolis

spirit of the Blitz," she explained. "What's the point of studying it if you don't feel it too?" She paused as if waiting for someone to argue, then went on. "You can use photography, painting, collage, or even clay modeling if you like. But I want you to give me an idea of what it might have been like to live in London during the winter of 1940."
    There was a mutter of agreement around the class. Walking around London had to be more fun than reading about it in books. Scarlett was particularly pleased. History and art had become two of her favorite subjects, and she saw that here was an opportunity to do them both at the same time.
    "Next Monday, we're going to Shoreditch," Miss Chaplin went on. "It was an area of London that was very heavily bombed. We'll visit many of the streets, trying to imagine what it was like, and we'll look at some of the buildings that survived."
    She glanced outside. The art room was on the ground floor, at the back of the school, with a view over the garden, sloping down with flower beds at the bottom and three tennis courts beyond. It was Friday and it was raining. The rain was sheeting down and the grass was sodden. It had been like that for three days.
    "Of course," she went on, "the trip won't be possible if the weather doesn't cheer up — and I have to warn you that the forecast hasn't been too promising. But maybe we'll be lucky. Either way, remember to bring a permission slip from your parents." Then she had a sudden thought and smiled. "What do you think, Scarlett?"
    It had become a sort of joke at St. Genevieve's.
    Scarlett Adams always seemed to know what the weather was going to do. Nobody could remember when it had first started but everyone agreed — you could tell how the day was going to be simply by the way Scarlett dressed. If she forgot her scarf, it would be warm. If she brought in an umbrella, it would rain. After a bit, people began to ask her opinion. If there was an important tennis match or a picnic planned by the river, have a word with Scarlett. If there was any chance of a cross-country run being called off, she would know.
    Of course, she wasn't always right. But it seemed she could be relied upon about ninety percent of the time.
    Now she looked out of the window. It was horrible outside. The clouds, gray and unbroken, were smothering the sky. She could see raindrops chasing each other across the glass. "It'll be fine," she said.
    "It'll clear up after the weekend."
    Miss Chaplin nodded. "I do hope you're right."
    She was. It rained all day Sunday and was still drizzling on Sunday night. But Monday morning, when Scarlett woke up, the sky was blue. Even Mrs. Murdoch was whistling as she put together the packed lunch requested by the school. It was as if a last burst of summer had decided to put in a surprise appearance.
    The bus came to the school at midday. The lesson — combining art and history — was actually going to take place over two periods plus lunch and, allowing for the traffic, the girls wouldn't be back until the end of school. As they pulled out of St. Genevieve's, Miss Chaplin talked over the intercom, explaining what they were going to do.
    "We'll be stopping for lunch at St. Paul's Cathedral," she said. "It was very much part of the spirit of the Blitz because, despite all the bombing, it was not destroyed. The coach will then take us to Shoreditch, and we're going to walk around the area. It's still a bit wet underfoot, so I want us to go indoors. The place I've chosen is St. Meredith's, on Moore Street. It's one of the oldest churches in London. In fact, there was a chapel there as long ago as the thirteenth century."
    "Why are we visiting another church?" one of the girls asked.
    "Because it also played an important part in the war. A lot of local people used to hide there during the bombing. They actually believed it had the power to protect them…that they'd be safe there."
    She paused. The coach had reached the River Thames, crossing over Blackfriars Bridge. Scarlett looked out of the window. The water was flowing very quickly after all the rain. In the distance, she could just make out part of the London Eye, the silver framework glinting in the sunlight. The sight of it made her sad. She had ridden on it with her parents, at the end of the summer. It had been one of the last things the three of them had done while they were still a family.
    "…actually took a direct hit on October 2, 1940." Miss Chaplin was still talking about