She hadn’t thought to ask Walter what they would have for supper. They could go out to one of their usual haunts, but part of her fancied the idea of staying in, never mind that she would need to work some magic to transform his bachelor’s provisions into something edible. The other night his pantry had yielded nothing more promising than a can of baked beans and half a loaf of that ghastly brown bread everyone hated but had long since resigned themselves to eating. So she’d turned to him and raised a single, questioning eyebrow, and he’d put on his coat and taken her to eat at the Blue Lion around the corner.
In recent weeks his flat had become her favorite place in the world. She loved its high ceilings and tall windows with no view to speak of, its walls blanketed with overflowing bookshelves and, where they left off, dozens of paintings and prints and photographs he had collected over the years, none very valuable but all significant to him in some way. Most of all, she loved Walter’s flat because it was so close to her own, new home.
When Ann had decided to emigrate, there had been no question of Miriam staying on in the council house, not least because she didn’t relish being evicted when, inevitably, the council realized only one woman—and a foreigner at that—was living in a house meant for a family of five or more. She had told Ann that she would be fine and she’d never been truly worried, but she had been anxious. None of the other women at work needed a flatmate, and the prospect of moving to a boardinghouse again was distinctly unappealing. Even after almost a year her memories of those dispiriting weeks in Ealing had not faded.
Walter had been just as concerned, and for a while she’d lived in fear of his suggesting she come to live with him in true bohemian style, or even that he might propose they get married and solve the problem in that fashion.
Instead he had come out to the house in Barking and, over a cup of tea in the kitchen, surrounded by packing crates, he had made a confession.
“I got to talking with Ruby the other day. She’s worried about their flat, for she and Bennett are thinking of living in Edenbridge full-time until the baby gets a bit older. She’s been losing sleep worrying about what will become of the place when they’re away, she told me. Mice in the pantry and silverfish in the linen cupboard, and burglars noticing the lights are off and ransacking the place. That sort of thing.
“I asked if she and Bennett had considered getting a lodger to stay in the spare room and keep an eye on the flat while they were away. She admitted it had occurred to her but she’d been too tired to do anything about it.
“So I then asked if she might consider having you to stay, and I reminded her that Ann was emigrating to Canada, which means you need somewhere to live.”
“Oh, Walter—”
“Hear me out. She was delighted. I wish you could have heard her reaction. And Bennett is in full accord.”
“Are you sure they aren’t trying to please you?”
“Quite sure. You would be helping them, and although I doubt they intend to ask you for anything by way of rent, you might be able to induce them to accept a token amount. But only if you truly feel it’s necessary.”
“But why should they do such a thing for me?”
Her question appeared to baffle him. “Why shouldn’t they? That’s what friends do for one another. I do know that if you refuse their offer and move into some grubby boardinghouse it won’t be a week before Ruby lands at your front door with baby Victoria in her arms, and she’ll be begging you to move into their flat. You could also lodge with Bennett’s godmother in south Kensington, as Ruby once did, but it’s all the way on the other side of London. And I’m not certain I wish for you to be so far away.”
“Far away?”
“From my flat. It’s the next street over from Ruby and Bennett’s. Just so you know.”
He wasn’t giving her any room to think, let alone form a coherent objection to his plans. “Where shall I go when they return? I cannot live there once they are back in London.”
“That’s a worry we’ll save for another day. Until then, you’ll have a roof over your head and friends nearby.”
That had been a little more than two months ago, and in the weeks that followed Miriam’s evenings had fallen into a pleasant sort of pattern. On the nights Walter wasn’t working, she would go to his flat for supper, and when he was busy or she was tired, or when she wished to work on her embroideries or have some time to herself, she remained at Ruby and Bennett’s flat for the evening. She had yet to spend the night with him, and he had yet to ask her.