Page 33 of Strangers in Time

She began crisply, “You are Ignatius Oliver?”

“I am.”

“I understand that you know a boy named Charlie Matters?”

He lifted the hinged countertop and came to stand next to her.

“Idoknow him. May I ask the reasons behind your inquiry?”

“He helped me do something and I promised to pay him. But then he was off before I could. I was hoping that you could tell me where he lived, so I could follow through with my pledge of compensation.”

Oliver took off his specs, cleaned them on his sleeve, andreplaced them. “I could see why that would be a predicament for you, Miss…?”

“Molly Wakefield.”

“And your home is in London?” he asked.

“Chelsea.”

“Yes, of course.”

She frowned at his words. “What do you mean by that?”

“Just that it’s a fashionable area, and you yourself are clearly fashionable.”

“I suppose,” she replied, looking down at her very proper and expensive clothing.

“Charlie is a good lad.”

With a sideways glance at Oliver, she said, “From the looks of it the war has not been kind to him.”

“As it has not been kind to many.”

“That’s why I want to pay him what I owe. It was a half crown.” She took it from her pocket and held it out.

“That is a small fortune these days to someone like Charlie,” said Oliver, admiring its shine. “And do you live with your parents?”

She frowned again, and decided to answer less than truthfully. “I live with my mother and father and my nanny.”

“Your parents are well?”

“My father works very long hours. The Ministry of Food,” she added, as though that would explain all.

“And your mother?”

“Is a bit under the weather,” Molly replied cautiously.

“As many of us are.”

“Is it just you here, then?” she asked, deciding to learn some things about the man.

“Yes.”

Molly glanced around and saw the photo of the woman with the funeral crepe. “Is that…?”

“My late wife. As I told Charlie, this was her shop.”

“Ah, that’s why it says ‘proprietress’ on the glass,” noted Molly.

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