Page 90 of Strangers in Time

“I’m afraid that we can’t pay much. Four pounds a week, but we have a small canteen here, breakfast, elevenses, lunch, and dinner. It’s nothing fancy, of course, but it is good, healthy food.”

“That will be fine.”

“Where do you live?” asked Tweedy.

Molly almost said Chelsea, but caught herself and replied, “Not very far from here at all.”

“I’m afraid, because of your youth, we will need a letter from your parents authorizing you to work here.”

Molly didn’t hesitate. “My father will be glad to do so. Now that I’m back in London, he encouraged me to help with the skills and knowledge that I have.”

“Very public-spirited of him, too,” commended Tweedy. “Sister Helen here will take some information from you and then you can bring the letter from your father tomorrow and we can go from there. Does that suit you, um…?”

“Molly, Molly Wakefield. It suits me very well. Thank you.”

“No, thankyou.”

ANINSPECTORCALLS

MOLLY COULDN’T STOP FROMsmiling all the way back to The Book Keep. Now she only had to convince Mr. Oliver to write that letter. If he wouldn’t, Molly trusted that she could imitate her father’s handwriting well enough. And Matron Tweedy would have nothing to compare it to.

As she turned down the alley she noticed the burly man at the bookshop’s door. He wore a creased hat and long brown trench coat, along with a stiff, official posture. Mr. Oliver was standing in the doorway and the man was showing him what looked to be a photograph. As Molly approached them, Inspector Willoughby turned to her and doffed his hat. “And who might you be, young lady?”

Oliver said quickly, “Inspector Willoughby is with the police, Molly. He is here inquiring about a boy named Charlie Matters. He thinks this boy might have attempted to break into my shop with some other lads. And when they ran away one of the lads and a constable chasing them were hit by a lorry and killed.”

Molly’s face turned pale as Oliver continued, “I told the inspector we don’t know this Charlie Matters, and had no idea he might have attempted to burgle my shop.”

Willoughby, who was watching both of them closely, said, “And what’s your relation to Molly here?”

“She’s the niece of one of my cousins who lives in the country. Molly is staying with me for a bit.”

Willoughby, eyeing Molly, said, “May I ask why you’re in London?”

Molly said quickly, “There is a private girls’ school here that my mother is thinking of sending me to.”

“Which one?”

“St. Elspeth’s.”

“What, in Chelsea?”

“That’s the one.” Molly had selected that one because before she had left for the country, it had been arranged that she would attend there. “Do you know it?”

“I know it costs a packet. Chief Constable Quigley’s granddaughter goes there. So your family must have money,” he added.

“Well, my maternal grandfather did rather well in… hogs… andcropsbefore the war. And my other grandfather was quite keen on manufacturing things. And my mother considers education to be the cornerstone of one’s life. Indeed I hope to become a doctor one day.”

“You mean a nurse,” corrected Willoughby.

“Oh, yes, no doubt that’s what I meant,” said Molly pleasantly.

“So you don’t know this lad, Charlie Matters?”

“I only arrived in London a short time ago. I haven’t had a chance to really meet anyone.”

“R-right,” said Willoughby, who was still looking suspiciously at both of them. “How about another lad named Lonzo Rossi? Here’s a picture of him.” He showed it to Molly.

Molly recognized the name from when Charlie had told her that was the boy who had stolen his book. But she shook her head at the photograph. “I’ve never seen him,” she said quite truthfully. “Who is he?”

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