doorknob, which is on the right. That's where the eyes immediately go when they walk up them steps, first to that lion's 'ead door knocker, then to the knob, which is on the right. Best 'ave the plate on the right. That's if you want their business.'
'Well, Mr. Beale, let's have the plate on the right. Thank you.'
'Billy, Miss. You can call me Billy.'
Billy Beale went to fit the brass nameplate. Maisie sighed deeply and rubbed her neck at the place where worry always sat when it was making itself at home.
'Miss . . . .'
Billy poked his head around the door, tentatively knocking at the glass as he removed his flat cap.
'What is it, Mr. Beale?'
'Billy, Miss. Miss, can I have a quick word?'
'Yes, come in. What is it?'
'Miss, I wonder if I might ask a question? Personal, like.' Billy continued without waiting for an answer.'Was you a nurse? At a casualty clearing station? Outside of Bailleul?'
Maisie felt a strong stab of emotion, and instinctively put her right hand to her chest, but her demeanor and words were calm.
'Yes. Yes, I was.'
'I knew it!' said Billy, slapping his cap across his knee.'I just knew it the minute I saw those eyes. That's all I remember, after they brought me in. Them eyes of yours, Miss. Doctor said to concentrate on looking at something while 'e worked on me leg. So I looked at your eyes, Miss. You and 'im saved my leg. Full of shrapnel, but you did it, didn't you? What was 'is name?'
For a moment, Maisie's throat was paralyzed. Then she swallowed hard. 'Simon Lynch. Captain Simon Lynch. That must be who you mean.'
'I never forgot you, Miss. Never. Saved my life, you did.'
Maisie nodded, endeavoring to keep her memories relegated to the place she had assigned them in her heart, to be taken out only when she allowed.
'Well, Miss. Anything you ever want doing, you just 'oller. I'm your man. Stroke of luck, meeting up with you again, innit? Wait till I tell the missus. You want anything done, you call me. Anything.'
'Thank you. Thank you very much. I'll holler if I need anything.
Oh, and Mr. . . . Billy, thank you for taking care of the sign.'
Billy Beale blushed and nodded, covered his burnished hair with his cap, and left the office.
Lucky, thought Maisie. Except for the war, I've had a lucky life so far. She sat down on the dubious oak chair, slipped off her shoes and rubbed at her feet. Feet that still felt the cold and wet and filth and blood of France. Feet that hadn't felt warm in twelve years, since 1917.
She remembered Simon, in another life, it seemed now, sitting under a tree on the South Downs in Sussex. They had been on leave at the same time, not a miracle of course, but difficult to arrange, unless you had connections where connections counted. It was a warm day, but not one that took them entirely away from the fighting, for they could still hear the deep echo of battlefield cannonade from the other side of the English Channel, a menacing sound not diminished by the intervening expanse of land and sea. Maisie had complained then that the damp of France would never leave her, and Simon, smiling, had pulled off her walking shoes to rub warmth into her feet.
'Goodness, woman, how can anyone be that cold and not be dead?'
They both laughed, and then fell silent. Death, in such times, was not a laughing matter.
CHAPTER TWO
The small office had changed in the thirty days since Maisie had taken up occupancy. The desk had been moved and was now positioned at an angle to the broad sash window, so that from her chair Maisie could look up and out over the rooftops as she worked. A very sophisticated black telephone sat on top of the desk, at the insistence of Lady Rowan, who maintained that 'No one, simply no one, can expect to do business without a telephone. It is essential, positively essential.'As far as Maisie was concerned, what was essential was that the trilling of its authoritative ring be heard a bit more often. Billy Beale had also taken to suggesting improvements lately.
'Can't have folk up 'ere for business without offering 'em a cuppa the ol' char, can you, Miss? Let me open up that cupboard, put in a burner, and away you go. Bob's yer uncle, all the facilities for tea. What d'you think, Miss? I can nip down the road to my mate's carpentry shop for the extra wood, and run the gas along 'ere for you. No trouble.'
'Lovely, Billy. That would be lovely.'
Maisie sighed. It seemed that everyone else knew what would be best for her. Of course their hearts were in the right place, but what she needed most now was some clients.
'Shall I advance you the money for supplies, Billy?'
'No money needed,' said Billy, winking and tapping the side of his nose with his forefinger.'Nod's as good as a wink to a blind 'orse, if you know what I mean, Miss.'
Maisie raised an eyebrow and allowed herself a grin. 'I know exactly what that saying means, Billy: What I don't see, I shouldn't worry about.'
'You got it, Miss. Leave it to me. Two shakes of a lamb's tail, and you'll be ready to receive your visitors in style.'
Billy replaced his cap, put a forefinger to the peak to gesture his departure, and closed the door behind him. Leaning back in her chair, Maisie rubbed at tired eyes and looked over the late afternoon rooftops. She watched as
