belts on a discreet display with a little money box beside them so that women don’t have to purchase them publicly. Most ladies are more comfortable with that. But I’ll put them in your box while no one is looking and add them to your total,” she murmured. I thought it better not to ask what a menstruation belt was. I would figure it out.
The two most important things tackled, I followed her to the cosmetics department on the lower floor, scouring the products stacked and displayed and pointing gleefully at names I recognized—Vaseline, Ivory soap, and Pond’s Cold Cream. Beatrice began making a receipt, writing the items in a neat row and adding my selections to a pale-pink box that reminded me of something from a bakery. Beatrice added Pond’s Vanishing Cream to my purchases.
“Cold cream at night, vanishing cream in the morning,” she instructed. “It won’t make you shine, and it works well under powder. Do you need powder?”
I shrugged, and she pursed her lips, studying my skin. “Flesh, white, pink, or cream?” she asked.
“What do you think?” I hedged.
“Flesh,” she said confidently. “LaBlache is my favorite face powder. It’s a bit more expensive, but worth the extra. And maybe a soft pink rouge?” She took a small tub from behind the glass and unscrewed the metal lid. “See?”
The color was a little too pink for my taste, but she reassured me. “It will be the softest blush on your cheeks and lips, and no one will even know you are wearing it. And if they do, never admit it.”
That seemed to be the goal, to look like you weren’t wearing any “paint,” which suited me fine.
“There’s a new lash cream—we always used Vaseline and ash growing up. Well, not anymore.” She unscrewed another small container, no bigger than a lip balm, and showed me the black grease inside. It didn’t resemble any mascara I’d ever seen.
“How is it applied?” I asked.
Beatrice closed the distance between us, told me to hold still, and dabbed her pointer finger in the goo and then against her thumb. With absolute confidence, she rubbed the ends of my lashes between the pads of her blackened fingertips.
“Perfect. Your lashes are already so long and dark, you hardly need it. But they’re more noticeable now.”
She winked and tossed it into the box. She added some coconut-oil shampoo that she swore would make my hair luxurious, as well as some talcum powder to “keep me fresh” and a little glass spritzer of a perfume that didn’t make me sneeze. I added a tube of toothpaste, a toothbrush, a little box of silk “tooth floss” as well as a comb-and-brush set. When I asked where I could settle my bill, Beatrice gave me an odd look. “It’s already settled, Anne. The doctor is waiting for you at the entrance. Your purchases are there as well. I thought you were simply being frugal.”
“I would really like to pay for these things on my own, Beatrice,” I insisted.
“But . . . it’s done, Mrs. Gallagher,” she stammered. “Your bill has been added to his account. I don’t want to cause a stir.”
I didn’t want to cause a stir either, but embarrassment welled in my chest. I took a deep breath to tamp it down.
“These things have not been added to his tab.” I raised the pink box in my arms. “I will pay for my toiletries,” I insisted.
She looked as though she wanted to argue, but nodded, veering to the cash register near the entrance and the mustached clerk who waited there. She handed him the receipt for my toiletries.
“Mrs. Gallagher needs to purchase these things, Mr. Barry,” she explained, taking the box from my hands so I could pull out the thick paper money pouch Mr. Kelly had given me.
“Dr. Smith said for me to add Mrs. Gallagher’s purchases to his account,” Mr. Barry said, frowning.
“I understand. But I will be paying for these items,” I said firmly, matching his frown with one of my own.
The clerk looked from me to the door and back again. I followed his gaze to where Thomas stood watching me, his head tilted slightly, one hand holding Eoin’s and the other shoved into his trouser pocket.
Eoin’s cheek bulged with the round end of a lollipop, the stick protruding from his puckered lips.
“What is the total, please?” I said, turning my attention back to the clerk.
The man grunted in disapproval, but he entered the items into the cash register, a happy dinging