talk, a nickname that stuck. How did Alba miss a clue like that? Poirot would be most disappointed.
“I can’t believe it.” Alba laughs. “I can’t. She’s my aunt! My aunt. Of course. I can’t believe I didn’t . . . They even look alike. And the things they said . . . Oh, my goodness. I can’t . . . it’s incredible, so incredible.”
“Wait.” Albert frowns, now slightly confused. “If you didn’t know about Stella, how do you know what she looks like? I don’t understand.”
Alba shakes her head, unable to explain yet. So that was Stella’s secret. She can’t quite believe it, can’t believe she didn’t guess. She starts to laugh.
Still puzzled, Albert opens his mouth to ask why Alba’s laughing but, to his shock and slight dismay, the question he’s been rehearsing for the last few weeks blurts out instead.
“Alba, would you like . . . would you like to live with me?”
Alba stops laughing and smiles. “Yes.” She says it so fast it rather takes her by surprise. “I’d absolutely love to.”
“Really?” Albert says. “You would?”
Alba nods, quite unable to believe her luck. Right now she can’t imagine anything she’d love more. And, now that the problem of her impending homelessness has been taken care of, Alba can’t wait to get back to Hope Street and interrogate Stella.
—
Greer is lying on her bed, unable to sleep. She’s still trying to ignore the sewing machine, but it won’t let her. It sits on the dressing table, gold letters glinting in the moonlight, even after she’s closed the curtains and switched off the light. She’s found a temporary job as a waitress along with a dingy room to live in, a roof over her head while she waits to start the teaching course and prepares applications to adoption agencies. She doesn’t know how long it will take, or what she’ll have to do to be successful but, as she stares at the ceiling now, Greer knows she’ll do whatever it takes.
There’s a sharp knock on her bedroom door and before Greer can sit up or say anything, the door opens and Peggy shuffles in with a cup of hot chocolate.
“You missed a beautiful show,” Peggy says. “Carmen was quite breathtaking. You really should have come.”
Greer scowls. “I was asleep.”
“No you weren’t, dear,” Peggy says. “I’ve brought you a drink.”
“I don’t want one, thank you.” Greer knows she sounds a little rude but doesn’t really care. It’s ten o’clock and she could have sworn her door was locked.
“It’s topped with cream and laced with liberal amounts of rum. I’ve just had one myself, it was quite delicious. Anyway, I hope you don’t mind the interruption, dear.” She eases herself onto the bed next to Greer. “But I didn’t imagine you were doing anything productive.”
“Well, I . . .” Greer takes the cup Peggy places in her hands.
“Exactly.” Peggy smiles. “I know what you’re up to and I’ve come to tell you not to do it.”
“Do what?”
“Now don’t play dumb with me, young lady.” Peggy raises an eyebrow. “The house is heaping gifts of inspiration upon you and you’re stubbornly and stupidly ignoring every last one.”
“That’s a little unfair.” Greer frowns. “I’m being realistic.”
“Oh, tosh!” Peggy snaps.
“Well, hold on now.” Greer sits up straighter, abandoning the hot chocolate to her bedside table. “That’s a little harsh—”
“Not at all,” Peggy retorts. Every now and then she has to get a little tough with a particularly stubborn resident, one who won’t pay attention to the more subtle signs, and in all honesty she rather relishes it. “If it’s right for you then it’s possible. You’re not eighty-two, you’re not even forty. You’ve plenty of time to live the life you want, without compromising anything.”
Greer’s frown deepens. “Having a child is what I want, more than anything. I know I can be a wonderful mum, and it’ll make me happy—”
“Yes, no doubt,” Peggy says, “for a time, at least. But when your child needs to learn about her own heart, what will you teach her? To give up one herself, to sacrifice what she wants?”
“No, I won’t, because she, or he, they won’t have to. I’ll tell them that.”
“But she’ll have seen you do it,” Peggy says. “And children are sharp little buggers you know. You can’t simply say one thing and do another—”
“Really?” Greer leans forward to regard the old lady more closely. “Is that true?”
“Of course.” Peggy nods, shifting a little uneasily under Greer’s gaze. “And when she grows up and leaves