The Gown(27)

“It is. You are certain you wish for me to have this room?”

“Of course. I like my view over the garden, and I’m used to my things being where they are. It would be ever such a fuss to switch things around.”

She turned to Ann. “I would like to take the room.”

“Oh, thank heavens. That is such a weight off my mind.” The other woman’s smile was wide and heartfelt, and it was hard not to feel her own spirits rise in accord. “Come on downstairs and we’ll work everything out over a cup of tea.”

Miriam sat at the kitchen table while Ann set out the tea things: a homely brown teapot, its spout chipped, a pair of rose-sprigged cups and saucers from the dresser, a little pitcher of milk, and two shining silver teaspoons.

“You take your tea with milk, right? I do have some sugar.”

“Simply the milk. Thank you.”

Ann fixed her own tea, drank deeply from her cup, and set it back on its saucer. “So. Like I said before, it’ll be fifteen bob a week. Shillings, that is. And we can split the cost of food, if you like, and pool our rations.”

“I think I would like that. Although I am not a very good cook,” Miriam admitted.

“Really? A proper Frenchwoman like you?” Ann teased. “Never you mind. I’m not much of a cook either. We’ll rub along somehow. As for the cleaning, I try to keep things neat during the week, then on Saturday, after I’ve done the marketing, I give everything a good going-over. It’s a small house, so it only takes a few hours.”

“Of course I will help you with that.”

“Thanks. I will say I don’t do the laundry, except for small things I can wash by hand. My undies and such. The rest I take to Mrs. Cole round the corner. She does a good job and never sends me home with someone else’s sheets. Runs between one and two bob a week.”

Miriam nodded, though she was still trying to add up the total in her head. There wouldn’t be much left of her wages at the end of each week, true, but she would be living in great comfort, and Ann was pleasant and friendly.

“Is that all right? Honestly? Because . . .”

Miriam suddenly realized that Ann appeared nervous. Hesitant, somehow, as if she were struggling to find the right words. Of course. There was a catch. It was, as she had suspected, too good to be true.

“What is wrong?” she asked, her heart sinking.

“I, well . . . I need to be honest with you. This is a council house.”

“I am not sure I understand.”

“The town owns the house and I rent it from them. Or rather, my brother did. He and Milly were the original tenants. I moved in after he died, otherwise Milly wouldn’t have been able to manage on her own. We’ve kept our heads down since then, done well not to attract anyone’s attention. But if the council were to take notice, if they realized that two women are living here instead of a family, they might decide to, ah . . .”

Miriam’s palms went clammy, and a swell of panic stole the breath from her lungs. It wasn’t safe here. It wasn’t—

“They might ask me to give notice. I do feel I must tell you. I will say that I don’t think it’s likely. The rent collector is friendly enough, and he’s used to me handing over the rent each week. As long as we keep the place neat as a pin and pay him like clockwork we’ll be fine.”

“When you say ‘give notice,’ what does that mean?” she asked. “Would we be in trouble with the police?”

“Heavens, no. No, it’s not the sort of thing you can get in trouble for. And I only mention it because there’s a chance of having to move if someone at the council ever got wind of Milly going to Canada. I mean, we kept it as quiet as we could. But you know how people talk.”

Miriam did know.

She would go to her grave without knowing the name of her betrayer. Had it been one of the other women in her lodgings? Someone at her work? Had Marie-Laure or Robert been tortured into giving them her name? She would never know for certain, never be able to look her enemy in the eye and force them to acknowledge what they had done. There would never be a trial to hold them accountable.

Ann was waiting for her to answer. “Yes,” Miriam said. “People do talk,” and she smiled as if she were thinking of a harmless neighborhood gossip.

“When would you like to move in? Milly’s room only needs a good dusting. And of course I’ll make up the bed with fresh sheets.”

“I have already paid until the end of the week, and I do not think the concierge will give me back the money. So perhaps on Saturday I can bring my things?”

“That sounds perfect. I can meet you at the station if you like.”

“I do not have many things. You do not need to trouble yourself.”

“Well, then. I guess that’s settled. Oh—I should have asked before. Would you like to stay on for supper? I haven’t much in the larder but I should be able to scrape together something edible.”

“That is very kind, but I ought to return to my pension. There is a curfew and the concierge is diligent in enforcing it. But I will see you at work in the morning?”

“Yes, of course. Do you know your way back to the station?”

“I remember.”

Miriam stood, ready to move to the front door, but Ann held out a staying hand. “Do you mind waiting for a moment? I forgot something outside. I won’t be long.”