TL *Humaning the Best She Can*’s Reviews > The Deadly Life of Diana Penn (Cheviot Hills Time Travel, #1) > Status Update
TL *Humaning the Best She Can*
is 46% done
The platform below was transformed. Gone were the usual commuters and empty tracks. Instead, hundreds of East Enders had made the space their nightly residence. Blankets and makeshift bedding covered every inch of the floor. Families huddled together, some attempting to sleep, others sharing mugs of tea from vacuum flasks.
— Mar 20, 2026 09:30AM
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TL *Humaning the Best She Can*’s Previous Updates
TL *Humaning the Best She Can*
is 84% done
“Penny for your thoughts?” Arthur offered as they waited for Fred to pick them up in his lorry.
“I’m just thinking about how quickly things can change,” Diana replied. “This morning, everything seemed settled, predictable. Now...”
“It’s rather like the war in that respect,” Arthur finished. “Long periods of routine punctuated by moments of chaos.”
— Mar 25, 2026 02:17AM
“I’m just thinking about how quickly things can change,” Diana replied. “This morning, everything seemed settled, predictable. Now...”
“It’s rather like the war in that respect,” Arthur finished. “Long periods of routine punctuated by moments of chaos.”
TL *Humaning the Best She Can*
is 79% done
I hope Jim is who he seems to be.. but also have a Feeling he's involved with an incident at the beginning of the book.
We shall see...
— Mar 24, 2026 08:13PM
We shall see...
TL *Humaning the Best She Can*
is 65% done
The station had the quiet dignity of a place long used to comings and goings. Low, soot-streaked stone buildings huddled beneath a canopy of iron girders and glass, its panes smudged with coal dust. Faded enamel signs advertising Cadbury Cocoa now shared space with government posters asking ‘Is Your Journey Really Necessary?’ and reminding the locals that ‘Walls Have Ears’.
— Mar 23, 2026 10:08AM
TL *Humaning the Best She Can*
is 57% done
As exhaustion finally claimed her, Diana’s last conscious thought was of her mother’s voice that morning, proud and worried in equal measure. Tomorrow would bring new calls, new emergencies, new chances to make the connections she’d spent a lifetime avoiding.
— Mar 22, 2026 09:24AM
TL *Humaning the Best She Can*
is 55% done
Diana sank onto her narrow bed, still in her filthy uniform, too exhausted to undress. As sleep claimed her, she thought not of the horror of the night, but of Rose’s smile and her mother’s trembling hands. Perhaps caring for others wasn’t the weakness she’d always believed it to be. Perhaps it was the very thing that made living worthwhile.
— Mar 22, 2026 08:07AM
TL *Humaning the Best She Can*
is 54% done
The normality of life continuing was so far removed from what she’d just endured that it felt absurd—like stepping from a nightmare into a half-remembered dream. The kettle whistled on the hob, the wireless played in the corner, and the smell of toast lingered in the air. As if the world hadn’t come crashing down only hours before.
— Mar 22, 2026 08:06AM
TL *Humaning the Best She Can*
is 54% done
“Thank goodness that dog led you to us!”
“Mushu? She’s a wonder that one. Lost count of how many people she’s sniffed out,” the rescue worker said, smiling through the grime on his face.
Convinced Mushu is a furry 🐕 guardian angel 😇!
— Mar 22, 2026 07:58AM
“Mushu? She’s a wonder that one. Lost count of how many people she’s sniffed out,” the rescue worker said, smiling through the grime on his face.
Convinced Mushu is a furry 🐕 guardian angel 😇!
TL *Humaning the Best She Can*
is 54% done
They walked together through streets they scarcely recognised, their uniforms torn and caked with dust, their hair matted with brick dust and dried blood. People stared as they passed, but no one stopped them. London had grown accustomed to such sights.
— Mar 22, 2026 07:55AM
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Mar 20, 2026 09:31AM
The distinctive smell hit Diana immediately. A peculiar mixture of unwashed bodies, damp wool, the carbolic soap, and the musty scent of the tunnel itself. The curved ceiling amplified every sound: children's whispers became clearly audible conversations, a woman's sob from thirty feet away sounded as though it were right beside them, and the collective breathing of hundreds of people created an eerie backdrop of white noise. The tiled walls sweated with condensation from so many bodies packed into the confined space. Despite the crush, the air remained cool. The subterranean chill rising from the tracks was a constant reminder that they were, quite literally, underground. The rumble of bombs penetrated even here, causing plaster dust to sift down from the ceiling and children to whimper in fear. A WVS volunteer moved through the crowd, offering tea and reassurance in equal measure.
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