“Is Mimi and Ann together.”
“I also have this picture of her and Nan with some other women. Do you think they might have been at work? My mom thinks they’re sitting around embroidery frames.”
He nodded decisively. “They are. That woman in the corner, with the dark dress and white collar, is Miss Duley. She was the head of embroidery at Hartnell.” Daniel turned over the photo. “This handwriting on the inscription—is it Ann’s?”
“My mom thinks it is. I just wish I could figure out what it means. The London and date bits are easy enough. But Waiting for HM? Who was HM?”
“‘Her Majesty.’ The queen. Today we’re more likely to think of her as the Queen Mum. But this was 1947, before Princess Elizabeth became queen in her own right.”
Of course. “Well, duh. Now I feel stupid.”
“Don’t,” he said, leavening the command with a smile. “It helps that I recognize the photograph. My grandmother has a copy, and she showed it to me not so long ago. They were, as the inscription says, waiting for the queen to arrive. Apparently, such visits were rare, so everyone was on pins and needles. I suppose that’s why they all look so grim.”
Their food arrived just then, so she put the photographs away. If there was time after lunch she’d show him the pictures of the embroidered flowers. Perhaps he might know why they’d been created, and by whom. If Miriam had embroidered the flowers, for that matter, it would only be right to return them to her. Never mind that they would probably be worth a fortune.
“When did you arrive in England?” Daniel asked.
Of course she had just taken a huge mouthful of salad. She chewed and chewed, finally managed to swallow, and then ran her tongue over her teeth to make sure they weren’t painted with bits of baby spinach. “On Monday morning. I didn’t do much—just walked around Soho and did my best to shake off my jet lag. Then, yesterday, I went out to Barking, where Nan used to live. I had this silly idea that someone there might remember her, but all the houses on her part of the street were torn down years and years ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear of it.”
“After that I went to the V and A. I wanted to see the Vél d’Hiv embroideries, but . . .”
“But they’re en route to the Tate for Mimi’s retrospective.”
“Yes. It was my fault, really. I should have checked the museum’s website before I went. I did get to meet Zahra, though, and without her help I wouldn’t be sitting here with you now.”
“There is that. So what now?”
She ate another bite of salad as she considered her response. “I’m not sure. I thought of trying to visit the Hartnell workrooms, but what’s the point, really? They closed years and years ago. The building probably looks totally different inside.”
“It’s actually been preserved quite well. Would you like to go? The current tenants are happy to let people visit as long as they have a bit of warning.”
“Really? That would be amazing.” Heather was tempted to reach beneath the table and pinch her leg, hard, just to make sure she wasn’t having an incredibly detailed dream.
“We can go today if you like. I’ll ring them up as soon as we finish lunch.”
He made it sound like it was nothing. As if he honestly didn’t mind spending almost the entire day listening to a near stranger and showing her around London. If he had come to her in search of answers, would she have been so accommodating?
“Why are you going to so much trouble? And don’t say you didn’t have anything better to do. One of my best friends is a university professor, and she’s always researching or writing or marking essays. Sunita hardly ever takes a day off.”
His answering smile was understanding. “I know I said that Mimi can be reticent, and she is. All the same, she’s told me most of her story, and to my knowledge she hasn’t kept any great secrets in regard to her past. But you have so little of your nan. Only a few fragments, really, compared to what Mimi has shared with me. Why wouldn’t I want to help you?”
With that, he rose from the table and went over to the bar. To pay for their lunch, she realized belatedly.
“Don’t even think about it,” he said when he returned. “I asked you to lunch. If you like, you can stand me a coffee when we’re finished at Hartnell.” He lifted their raincoats from the hook behind their table, folded them over his arm, and together they ventured out into the afternoon sun.