bonnet about it, so I ended up going across to Camberwell. It must’ve been after you’d been to Addington Square, because I didn’t see your motor car anywhere. Miss, I could have sworn I saw him, walking along near that field over the back. It was a boy who fitted his description anyway—mind you, I’ll admit that his description fits a lot of lads of that age. Anyway, I took the chance and came up on a really early train this morning, to have another look. I reckoned that, if he was sleeping rough, he would come out before anyone else was about—them kids with their great big dog, for instance. Or I thought perhaps he’d stay over there, keep his head down. But I didn’t reckon on seeing what I did.”
“Billy, you’re supposed to be resting, enjoying time at home with your family, digging your garden.” She leaned forward. “What did you see?”
“Miss, there’s only so much digging a garden of that size will take, and I thought I could lend a hand with the case. Anyway, I was walking along—and by then there were a few people about, so it wasn’t as if anyone would notice me because I was the only bloke on the street—and when I got to the street that leads onto the square, Goodyear Street, or Place, or something, the door opened from one of them houses, and a man stood on the doorstep, looked around—of course, I stayed back, behind a tree—and then this lad came out and ran along the road.” He took a breath and wiped his brow. “I reckon the fella might have been a vicar or a verger or something, because he left after the boy had gone, and he went down the road to his church—if you can call it a proper church.”
“Well, that’s a turn-up for the books.” Maisie leaned back in her chair, folding her arms. She looked up at Billy. “I don’t think I’m surprised, to tell you the truth—but of course, it might not be him, and the Reverend Griffith might be offering refuge to a helpless young man in all innocence—that’s part of his ministry, to be a source of comfort to those less fortunate. We have to give him the benefit of the doubt—though I believe you’re probably right.” She paused again. “Billy, you’re all in, what with getting up at the crack of dawn and all that walking around yesterday. I was worried about you then, and I’m worried now—and not about you being bored! Would you go home, please, and rest?”
Billy looked at his hands, then brought his attention back to his employer. “I’ve decided to take that job, you know. At the Compton Corporation. The money’s fair, and it’s regular. Doreen’s pleased already; after all, I won’t get much grief from a broken telephone, or a clerk who’s nicking drawing pins, will I?”
Maisie smiled. “I think you’re right—you’ve made a good decision.”
“One thing that bothers me, Miss. What about the house? I mean, you own that house of ours, Miss, and I’m paying you rent. If I’m not working for you, can we stay there? Is that all right, I mean?”
“Oh, Billy, of course you are staying—it never entered my head that you wouldn’t. In fact, I wanted to talk to you about that—but perhaps not yet. I’ll just put the word in your ear to consider. I was thinking that it would be a good investment for you—for the future—if your rent were to go towards payment of the house. That would mean you would own the house one day, and it would be yours. I can give you the original purchase price, and we’ll take it from there—proper papers drawn up, so no concern on that score.”
“Oh, Miss, that’s an awful lot, ain’t it? I mean, to go from Shoreditch to a semi-detached house in Eltham is a big old leap, eh? And, well—”
“Have a think about it. Talk to Doreen. You wouldn’t be paying any more than you are now, and you would be on the way to owning your house. And you can take your time—I have no other plans to sell the house. It’s your home.”
Billy took a while to answer. Maisie allowed him his silence, while at the same time wondering whether she had overstepped the mark again.
“Thank you for the opportunity, Miss, I really appreciate all this. And I know Doreen will. She’d love to think we might own the house—and do