“Yes. I just finished.”
She was careful not to say more, for it had been drummed into them all, again and again, that they had to be wary. That’s why the windows had been curtained, and why there was talk of whitewashing them, too. That’s why Captain Mitchison, who managed the business side of things for Mr. Hartnell, had taken to sleeping in his office, a loaded pistol—or so Ethel insisted—at his side.
“I wonder,” Jeremy said, inching a little closer, “if you might be free this evening. It is rather last minute, of course, but I find I’m not quite ready to say good-bye.”
“Oh. I, ah . . .” Why couldn’t she think of something to say? But her mouth refused to cooperate with her brain.
“Please tell me I’m forgiven for my awful sister. Please tell me you’ll give me a second chance.”
Ann felt, suddenly, as if she were face-to-face with a film star. Ordinary people were never that good-looking, yet try as she might, she couldn’t discern a single flaw. His hairline wasn’t receding, his nose wasn’t beaky, his lips weren’t thin, his chin wasn’t weak. He was tall and broad-shouldered and had a flat stomach and ears that didn’t stick out and the bluest eyes she had ever seen. She stared on, even though it was probably making him feel uncomfortable, and found nothing to alarm her.
Nothing, apart from the knowledge that his interest made absolutely no sense. She had nothing to offer him. Nothing. She wasn’t beautiful or witty, she had scarcely a penny to her name, and she didn’t have so much as a seed packet’s worth of charisma to sprinkle around. So why did he persist? Why wasn’t he ringing up one of his sister’s glamorous friends?
“Why?” she asked.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Why me? You’ve heard me speak. You know I’m an ordinary girl. Common, some might say.”
“I wouldn’t. I don’t think you’re common at all.”
She shook her head so vehemently that one of the clips holding back her fringe slipped free and fell on the ground. “Please. I know who I am, and I have never, ever, attracted the attention of a man like you before.”
He crouched to retrieve the clip, wiped it clean on the sleeve of his coat, and gently tucked it back in her hair. “What will it take for you to believe me? I like you. I think you’re very pretty. I find you interesting. Most of all, you’re nice. And that makes you different, in the best possible way, from most of the women I know. That’s why.”
“Oh,” she said, her protestations dying away.
“Dinner together. That’s all.” And then, his voice deepening, “I really can be very good company.”
“That’s what worries me,” she said, and smiled for the first time since he’d approached her.
“So? Shall we be off?”
“I, well . . . I’m not dressed properly.” She wore a pretty new skirt, made from the wool tartan Milly had sent, but her shoes needed a shine and there was a splotch of tea on the front of her blouse that her cardigan didn’t quite cover.
“The place we’re going isn’t grand at all. Just a café in Soho. You’ll be fine.”
“What part of Soho?” She’d heard the stories about the goings-on in that part of the city. About the gangsters and burlesque shows and ladies of the night on every corner.
“It’s a perfectly safe part. I mean, I wouldn’t go so far as to say it’s respectable, but isn’t that half the fun?”
His offer was tempting. Miriam was having supper out with Mr. Kaczmarek, they’d finished the last of the leftovers from Sunday dinner, and she didn’t much feel like another meal of sardines on toast.
“All right. We won’t be out late, will we?”
“I’ll have you on your way in an hour. Promise.” Before she could think of another excuse, he looped his arm through hers and led her along the street, his umbrella carefully positioned above her head.
By the time they crossed Regent Street the rain had grown heavier, and Ann could feel her stockings squishing between her toes. “We’re almost there,” he said apologetically. “I ought to have flagged down a cab. Not that there’s ever one to be found in weather like this.”
“I’m fine,” she said. “I don’t mind the rain at this time of year. And it does make my garden happy.”
“An avid gardener. You’d get on with my mother. What sort of plants do you like to grow?”