That was the million-dollar question. Unfortunately, Sophie only had about a buck fifty in change, which was nowhere near enough to buy an answer. She sat in a crowded all-night café, which she’d chosen because she’d seen the reassuring glow of a We’re Open! sign in the window. Power was starting to return to some neighborhoods, as she knew it would. The promise of warm coffee, tea, and company had attracted quite a crowd. Outside, normality was reasserting itself. That was the personality of London summed up in a few short words. No matter how extraordinary the crisis, the ordinary was only ever a few hours away. These people had lived through extraordinary times more than once, be it IRA bombs or the 7/7 terror attacks, the Blitz. They had a history of stiff upper lips.The silhouette of an angelic statue filled half of the plate-glass window. A prewar double-decker bus rumbled down the street. It looked like it had been rescued from a museum but that hadn’t stopped dozens of people from cramming into it.
