Gwen hung up the telephone. Sally sat muttering at the other desk, shifting voices. She surmised from the changes in register that the love triangle involved two men and a woman. Or possibly a second woman who smoked to excess.
“That was Iris,” she said. “She’s safe.”
“I expected nothing less,” said Sally.
“She said that she’s ruled out Roger Pilcher as a suspect,” said Gwen. “Which narrows the field down to the rest of the city of London.”
“I was at a dinner party that night,” said Sally.
“All right, you’re off the list,” said Gwen.
“I shall rest easier knowing that,” said Sally. “Will you be needing my services tomorrow while you’re out seeking justice?”
“Do we seem that ridiculous?” she asked.
“Everyone and everything seem ridiculous at the moment,” he said. “That’s why the only serious work is to be found in the theatre.”
He pulled out a manuscript, looked at it thoughtfully, then started crossing out page after page with his pen.
“You edit with great abundance,” observed Gwen. “There must be something in there worth saving.”
“There is,” said Sally, holding up one of the exed-out pages. “The other side.”
He reversed the page and fed it into the typewriter so that the blank side faced him.
“Damned shortages,” he said. “It’s harder and harder to get what I need, so I’m sacrificing some of my juvenilia for the greater good. It’s too bad we aren’t back in the Dark Ages. If I was using parchment, I could scrape it down and start over.”
“If only one could do that with memories,” said Gwen.
“Oh, that’s good! May I steal it?”
“Be my guest.”
He scribbled it on the margins of one of the used pages.
“What was the failed play?” she asked.
“One of my university efforts,” he said. “Lifetimes ago. Embarrassing to look at now. Glad to be getting some use out of it finally.”
“You knew Iris at Cambridge, didn’t you?”
“Quite well.”
“Were you and she ever—”
She thought carefully about her choice of words.
“—an item?”
“Oh, Lord,” he laughed ruefully. “There wasn’t a proper man at Cambridge who wasn’t in love with Iris Sparks. This sad little melodrama that I am consigning to the palimpsest stage was one I wrote expressly for the purpose of casting her in the lead, with me as her romantic opposite.”
“How did it go?”
“It was terrible,” he said. “Written for the wrong reasons, but from the heart. I worked in as much torrid lovemaking as I could get away with. Most girls avoided me back then, big galumphing monster that I am. Not Sparks. She was fearlessly kind, if such a thing is possible. Why, I remember once in training—”
He stopped abruptly.
“Well, not my story to tell,” he said. “Not in nonfictional form, anyway.”
“You were in training together?” asked Gwen.
“Forget I ever said that,” he said. “Please. And don’t mention anything about it to Sparks.”
“You were behind enemy lines,” said Gwen. “You were a saboteur or something.”
“Or something. I’ve forgotten all of it very quickly.”
“A decorated hero, she said.”
“She likes to puff me up,” said Sally. “It wasn’t as exciting as all that. Lots of sleeping in caves and cellars, trying to stay safe and warm and dry.”
“Was that something that she trained to do?”
“She hasn’t told you?”
“She says that she can’t.”
“Then I can’t, either. Besides, I don’t know most of it. I was away, catching colds in foreign climes.”
“All this secrecy,” said Gwen bitterly. “I wish that she would simply lie to me rather than drop these ominous hints.”
“But she doesn’t want to lie to you, don’t you see?” said Sally. “I think that you’ve been good for her in a strange sort of way. She’s someone who loves to spin tales at the drop of a hat, but she won’t lie to you. You may be the first person for whom she’s ever been like that.”
“Will she ever tell me the truth about the war?”
“Have you told her everything about your life?” asked Sally.
“Not by a long shot.”
“There you are,” he said. “It will give the two of you something to do on those dreary, rainy days when Love is too tired to climb the stairs.”
“Could you come in tomorrow?”
“Of course. Planning to be in the field?”
“I don’t know what the plan is anymore,” said Gwen. “But it helps having you here.”
“I no longer unnerve you?”
“She told you that? I’m so sorry. No, Sally, you no longer unnerve me. You are a big, galumphing man, but you are a very dear, big, galumphing man.”
“Thank you, kind lady,” he said, taking her hand and kissing it gently. “I shall return.”
“Sally,” she said hesitantly.
“Yes?”
“Could you show me what your fiercest character is like? I want to borrow it.”
Two trains and a bus after leaving Wapping, Iris turned onto her street in Marylebone. Her thoughts were still occupied with the day’s events, but not so much that she wasn’t immediately aware that she was being followed by a black Bentley with darkened windows.
She stopped walking. The car pulled up, and a uniformed officer got out, then opened the rear passenger door.
“Get in,” he said.
“My mother always told me never to get in cars with strangers,” she said, eyeing him up and down, searching for weak spots. He didn’t appear to have any.
“But we’re not strangers, are we, Sparks?” said the Brigadier, leaning forward into view.
“Will this take long?” asked Sparks. “It’s been a tiring day.”
“One circuit around Regent’s Park should be sufficient,” he said. “And I have whisky.”
“Why didn’t you mention that at the start?” she asked, sliding in next to him.
The officer closed the door, then got in front with the driver. There was a thick glass partition separating them.
“This will be a private conversation,” said the Brigadier, noticing her glancing at it.
He was in civvies, wearing a neatly tailored grey pinstriped suit that predated the war. He had salt-and-pepper hair, and his mustache had turned a solid grey since she last saw him. He might have passed for a banker were it not for the ramrod straightness of his back. And the eyes which examined quickly, judged thoroughly, and executed unsentimentally. She wondered what the verdict would be on her. Or had the sentence already been pronounced?
He unlatched a panel in the back of the driver’s seat, revealing a bottle and two tumblers. He poured for them both as the car began to move.
“You’ll have to take it neat, I’m afraid,” he said, handing her a glass.
“I prefer it neat,” she said, taking it. “To absent friends.”
“To absent friends,” he repeated, tapping his glass against hers. “You’re looking fit, Sparks. Those stairs are doing you a favour. Not to mention all of that traipsing about the wilds of the East End.”
“You know about that.”
“Merely what your former paramour told me,” said the Brigadier.
“Oh, you are up to date!” she said. “Is that what you boys do when we’re not around? Gossip? Did he call you from the airport, weeping copiously over his loss? Is your shoulder still damp from the tears?”
“He was rather bent out of shape,” said the Brigadier. “Not how I want him going back into the field, but I believe that he will emerge from this intact. Frankly, I think that you’re both better off. It was not a healthy affair, if you want my opinion.”
“What if I don’t want it?”
“Then ignore it.”
“Consider it ignored, sir. Now, may I ask what prompted this descent from the gods?”
“Hmph. More like a rise from the depths. How nice to be tooling about in a comfy car with a pretty girl while there’s still daylight to be enjoyed.”
“It’s even better without the smoked windows, but they do make the girl look prettier,” said Sparks. “As does the whisky. Compliments aside, why are you here?”
“To see if Major Sutton was telling the truth.”
“As far as I know, Andrew only lies for the Crown and to his wife,” said Sparks. “Give me the particulars.”
“He says that you turned down my invitation to rejoin the group.”
“That, I’m afraid, was true,” said Sparks.
“Why, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“The war ended, didn’t it? I’m quite certain I read something about it in the papers at the time.”
“That war ended. The next one is in full swing. We need boots on the ground, Sparks.”
“Mine are badly in need of repair.”
“Your Russian and German are still fluent?”
“Da und ja, mein General-Kommissar.”
“Exactly what I require. You’re wasting your life at this matchmaking hobby. You could be making the world a better place.”
“But I am,” said Sparks. “One couple at a time.”
“And when it all fizzles out, which may happen within a month at the rate you’re going, where will you run to?”
“Wherever it is, I’m certain that you will find me,” said Sparks.
“If your country needs you, Sparks—”
“If the country is depending on me to save them, then the straits are dire indeed,” said Sparks, handing him back her glass. “I believe this is my street coming up. You can let me off here, I don’t want to scandalize the neighbours. It was good to see you again, sir. Good luck with the war. I hope we win.”
“Good-bye, Sparks,” he said. “I may still call upon you when the situation demands. Good luck with the murder investigation. Show those amateurs at the Yard how it’s done.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said as the car came to a halt and the bodyguard opened her door.
She walked away without glancing back, feeling his eyes on the back of her neck until she turned the corner.
Gwen sailed through the door and past Percival before the butler could even turn.
“Never mind, I know,” she called over her shoulder. “The library.”
She barged through the doors. Lady Carolyne looked up, startled.
“Good news, Mum,” said Gwen. “The doc says I’m cured. I’m going to be at dinner tonight. Are we dressing, or is it just family?”
“You’re being absurd,” huffed Lady Carolyne.
“It’s an absurd situation, isn’t it?” said Gwen. “Now, you can keep making my life miserable, but let me remind you that Ronnie is my son no matter what you do. Let me also remind you that if you make me miserable to the point where I am driven out of here, then he will despise you for the rest of your wretched existence. I am willing to offer you some accommodation, but if you won’t parlay, then it will be war between us. Don’t underestimate me. Your son chose me as his wife for a reason. I’ve been through it the past few years, yes, but I am through it. And right now, I am famished. The talking cure has given me an appetite. I am going to dine with my son and his governess, and I hope that you will join us and have enough consideration for a wonderful and beautiful six-year-old boy who is his father to the life to make it a pleasant experience. He is fascinated by narwhals at the moment. He is writing and illustrating a picture book about one. He would love to tell you all about it.”
“What in God’s name is a narwhal?” sputtered Lady Carolyne.
“That is an excellent question with which to begin the conversation,” said Gwen. “Although you should tone down the wording a little. Are we dining at seven? Jolly good. Oh, and Mum? Try not to drink too much before dinner. It spoils the palate.”
She walked out, closing the door behind her, then leaned against the opposite wall, shaking.
“Thanks, Sally,” she whispered. “That felt wonderful.”
Iris came into the Bureau the following morning to find Gwen already at her desk, opening the mail.
“Good morning,” she said, hanging up her hat. “You’re here bright and early.”
“I feel energized,” said Gwen, pausing to stretch her arms out and take a deep breath. “I did calisthenics before breakfast for the first time in ages. Then I made the walk a brisk one. People were bounding out of my way on the sidewalks. I must smell like a horse right now.”
“Not too bad,” said Iris, sniffing the air as she sat.
“Miss Pelletier reports a good first date with Mister Carson,” said Gwen, handing over a letter. “She added ‘Good luck!’ in the post-script.”
“Encouraging on all fronts,” said Iris, glancing over it.
“I’ve asked Sally to come in midmorning today,” continued Gwen. “Only I don’t know what our next step is. You were going to tell me why you ruled out Roger Pilcher.”
“Here’s the thing,” said Iris. “I don’t know if I can tell you.”
“Excuse me? Why not?”
“Well—it involves a confidence. One that I am not sure that I can share.”
Gwen drummed her fingers on the desk for a moment, then swung her chair to face Iris. She rolled forward until she was knee to knee with her, then leaned towards her until their faces were inches apart.
“No,” she said. “That is unacceptable.”
“I’m sorry,” said Iris. “Knowing about it could put someone in danger.”
“Yet you know about it.”
“Yes, but I’m—”
“Good at keeping secrets, yes, you’ve told me over and over,” said Gwen. “And I am sick and tired of it!”
“Gwen?”
“What you did in the war was secret,” said Gwen, standing suddenly, sending her chair hurtling backwards into the file cabinet. “Well, bully for you, General Sparks. Bravo, we won, hooray for our side, and well done, a grateful nation thanks you for single-handedly doing whatever the hell you did.”
“Gwen, I’m only—”
“We are partners, Iris. Partners in this business, and partners in this investigation, and you have to start treating me accordingly. You may be the one with the fancy Cambridge degree and I’m the one who never went to university and was the prize-winning duck at the funny farm, but we are in this together. Which means that I need to know any and all information that you have so that I can put my mind to it, and it’s a damn good one, in case you haven’t noticed—”
“I have, of course, but—”
“But it is impossible for me to do what I need to do if you withhold evidence from me. I am perfectly capable of keeping things confidential, thank you very much. I wasn’t with you yesterday when you saw what you saw and heard what you heard. I would have been but for the interference of the harridan who is trying to keep my child from me.”
“Who should be your first priority, don’t you think?”
Gwen turned crimson.
“How dare you!” she said. “Of course he’s my first priority, which is why I am trying to make this place work so that I can convince everyone that I should be in charge of his life. And right now, you are standing in the way of that, and I won’t have it, Iris. Do you hear me?”
“It wasn’t a degree,” said Iris.
“What?”
“Cambridge. They don’t let women earn degrees, no matter how much work we did. Oxford does, Cambridge doesn’t. All I have for my years spent there is a Bachelor of Arts Title, known amongst the boys who never grew up as the B.A. Tit.”
“Oh, dear God,” said Gwen. “That’s appalling. I didn’t know that.”
“So, as proud as I am of having gone there, and as valuable an experience as it was, I would never throw that in your face. And you’re right, we are in this together, and anything I know, I will give to you, starting now. I am sorry. You’ll understand my caution when I’m done explaining it, but I’m sorry for not—not trusting you, Gwen. I’m not a trusting person, so this is difficult for me. Will you forgive me?”
“The level of forgiveness will depend on the quality of the sharing,” said Gwen evenly, retrieving her chair and sitting down. “Start spilling the beans, sister. Your performance will be graded on clarity, thoroughness, and presentation.”
“Right,” said Iris. “And when I’m done, you must tell me what essence of lion your doctor prescribed you. I want some.”
She described her visit to Archie’s warehouse. Gwen glanced at her legs when she described the initiation of the nylons.
“Yes, these are the spoils of war,” said Iris, swiveling to reveal them. “I shall charge them to petty expenses, if that’s all right with you, partner.”
“Of course,” said Gwen. “They’re very nice. Do they really fetch four pounds? I had no idea.”
“They are part of the arsenal with which we fight our battles,” said Iris. “I wouldn’t pay four pounds, but I understand why some women would.”
She continued. When she reached the revelation of Pilcher’s identity, Gwen pounded her desk in triumph.
“I said all of that male posturing was an act,” she said. “We were never in real danger, were we?”
“I guess not,” said Iris. “Takes some of the wind out of our heroic response.”
“No, we were heroic,” said Gwen. “Heroism based upon faulty knowledge is still heroism, isn’t it?”
“We should give ourselves a hearty pat on the back,” agreed Iris. “It was good practice for the next onslaught.”
“I already had mine last night,” said Gwen. “But, pray, continue.”
“That was pretty much it. I proposed that I work with him. I could get inside Archie’s organization, find out whatever I can. He said that he would speak to his superiors about it, and we parted.”
“Parted,” said Gwen, looking at her.
“Yes, we parted,” said Iris innocently.
“You left out something,” said Gwen.
“Nothing I can think of,” said Iris.
“Something important,” said Gwen.
“Nothing significant springs to mind.”
“No,” said Gwen. “You’re still unforgiven. The whole truth, Miss Sparks.”
“I kissed him,” confessed Iris.
“Of course that would be the case,” sighed Gwen.
“It was only to smear a little lipstick on him for our cover story,” protested Iris. “It didn’t mean anything.”
“You’ve kissed three men in under a week,” said Gwen. “I am including your ex-lover in the count, even though you’ve not mentioned anything that happened there.”
“I could—”
“Nor do I want to hear any details, thank you,” said Gwen.
“All right,” said Iris. “At least in Mike’s case, I was kissed, not kissing. Taken by surprise. His eyes were roguish, in fact.”
“Nevertheless,” said Gwen. “At the rate you’re going, you won’t be leaving any men for the rest of us. It hardly seems fair.”
“You could have kissed Des by now. You chose not to. Don’t complain to me.”
“I get kissed every morning and night by a lovely young man whom I adore,” said Gwen. “On the cheek, and yes, he is six, but I consider myself luckier than most women to be treated so.”
“You are, darling,” said Iris.
“All right, so if Agent Pilcher, or whatever his title is, calls, you’re plunging back into the maelstrom,” said Gwen. “In the meanwhile, there are other lines of inquiry we could pursue.”
“For example?”
“We haven’t delved enough into her personal life,” said Gwen. “We learned about Pilcher, but that turned out to be a sham relationship. I wonder if she knew his identity beforehand?”
“She did have that arrest for passing fake coupons,” said Iris. “I would guess that he followed up on that. What do you propose we do?”
“I feel awkward about dropping in on her family when they’re still in mourning,” said Gwen.
“The police do it all the time.”
“We’re not police,” said Gwen. “It feels wrong. We didn’t pump them for information at the viewing.”
“We met Elsie and Fanny. They seemed to be more likely to talk. And they talked, God knows.”
“We promised to give them a call,” said Gwen. “Let’s meet them for drinks, see what else they know. Do you have their numbers?”
“I do,” said Iris, rummaging through her handbag for the scrap of paper Elsie had given her at the bar. “Here they are. I’ll—”
The telephone interrupted her. She picked it up.
“Right Sort Marriage Bureau, Iris Sparks speaking,” she said.
“It’s Roger Pilcher.”
“Oh, Mister Pilcher,” she said as Gwen raised an eyebrow at her. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I’ve got a green light from the powers that be,” he said. “And Archie would like you to come in again.”
“Would he? For what?”
“To run an errand, he said.”
“Any idea what kind?”
“He did not share the details. He said dress like for work, but with some good walking shoes.”
“Will this errand be of a legal nature?”
“I doubt it very much,” said Pilcher. “Are you game?”
“I said it, and I meant it,” said Iris. “When and where?”
“The warehouse at noon.”
“I’ll be there,” she said.
He hung up.
“I have a job for Archie,” she said.
“Right,” said Gwen. “I’m coming with you.”
“It wasn’t for us. It was for me.”
“Then I shall follow you,” said Gwen. “Surreptitiously. I will—what’s the term? Shadow? Yes, I shall shadow you.”
“The problem is, you cast a rather long shadow yourself,” said Iris. “If you show up to shadow me in Shadwell, you’ll be visible for miles. I think this is a job interview of some kind. I don’t want to muck it up by having an obvious tail. They’ll think I’m working for the law.”
“Then what do I do?”
“Same deal. If I don’t call in by, say, three thirty, have Sally phone the Yard.”
“Should they embark on a rescue mission, or shall we simply inform them to start dragging the Thames?”
“Start with the first, please,” said Iris. “Here’s the numbers for the girls. You go ahead and make the appointment. If it’s late afternoon, leave the information with Sally, and I’ll get it after I call in and join you if I can.”
“Ooh, I get to do something on my own,” crowed Gwen. “I’m a real detective now, Mummy!”
“Keep your whistle handy,” said Iris.
“Do you honestly believe that I could get in trouble having drinks with Elsie and Fanny?”
“One never knows, do one?”
Pilcher himself opened the door to the warehouse when she knocked.
“’Allo, love,” she said, planting a light kiss on his lips. “Sweet of you to meet me at the door.”
“Don’t get useter it,” he said as he locked it behind her.
“’Allo, Tony,” she greeted the watchman. “Everything all right, then?”
“Fair enough,” said Tony, not looking up from a copy of The Sporting Life.
“Come with me,” said Pilcher, leading her through the warehouse.
“This is legit?” she whispered.
“You made quite the impression on ’im,” he replied. “’E wants to try you out.”
“I’ll try to do you proud.”
“That’s me girl,” he said.
He rapped on the door to the clubhouse. They were admitted.
Archie was at the snooker table with two of his men, his jacket off and his sleeves rolled up. To her surprise, Elsie was there, perched on a barstool, watching the game while sipping her drink.
“Ah, there’s the lovely lass,” said Archie, handing his cue to one of his men. “On time, I see.”
“There are times to keep a gent waiting, and there are times not to,” said Iris.
“Properly said. Did Rog fill you in?”
“Only that you ’ave an errand for me to run.”
“Right. Elsie!”
Elsie reached below the bar and pulled out a D. H. Evans shopping bag.
“That’s the job,” said Archie. “You and Elsie are gonna take that bag to New Cross Street. She’s got the address. You’ll go to the flat on the second storey and hand it to the bloke who opens the door.”
“Does the bloke ’ave a name?” asked Iris.
“’E does not.”
“Then ’ow do I know we got the right bloke?”
“Because no other bloke is going to open the bloody door!” shouted Archie. “Do you ’ave any other stupid questions?”
“One,” said Iris.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know what’s in the bag, and I don’t want to know,” she said. “But I want your word that there ain’t nothing that’s going to blow up the bloke when ’e opens it.”
Archie looked her, then started to laugh.
“Oh, that’s bloody wonderful,” he said, shaking his head. “Dearie, if I wanted to do someone in, I wouldn’t deprive meself of the pleasure of doing it meself. And I wouldn’t do it with a bomb. Bombs aren’t reliable. Slit throats are. Satisfactory?”
“Very,” said Iris. “Do I come back ’ere when we’re done?”
“No,” said Archie. “Elsie will check in with me in the morning. ’Ave a good trip.”
“Ta,” said Iris.
She went to the bar and held out her hand for the bag.
“Ready if you are,” she said.
“I’m ready,” said Elsie. “See you, boys.”
Iris blew Rog a kiss. He glared.
“Oh, right,” said Iris. “Not in front of the gentlemen.”
“This way,” said Elsie, indicating the door at the end of the bar.
It took them out to an alley in back, as Iris had guessed. Elsie led her north until they reached the basin, then headed east.
“We’re not catching the train at Wapping?” asked Iris.
“Too close to the coppers for comfort,” said Elsie. “We’ll catch the 82 bus at Branch Road and take it through the tunnel to Surrey Docks. We can take the train from there.”
“Roundabout way to go.”
“That’s the idea,” said Elsie. “It will give us time to chat.”
“About what?”
“About you cheating with me best girl’s boyfriend.”
“I was wondering if that was bothering you.”
“Oh, I’m not bothered,” said Elsie. “I’m surprised. Didn’t think old Rog had it in ’im to keep a girl stashed away.”
“I didn’t mean to ’urt Tillie,” said Iris. “It ’appened. Caught both me and Rog unexpected, but there we were, and here we are.”
“I’m surprised she never said nothing about it to me,” said Elsie.
“I don’t know what she said or din’t say,” said Iris. “I don’t want any problems between you and me because of what ’appened in the past. Can’t change it, and she’s not around for me to say sorry to, so there’s nothing I can do about it anymore.”
“I’m not saying there’s a problem,” said Elsie. “I think we can be friends for all that.”
“I’d like that.”
“So, I ’ave a proposition, if you’re interested in making a little extra.”
“I’m listening.”
“Do you want to know what’s in the bag?”
“Sure.”
“Money,” whispered Elsie. “Lots of it. This is ’ow he moves it around. ’E likes to use us girls because we don’t look like spivs. The feller we’re going to is a banker of sorts.”
“A banker without a bank?”
“You catch on.”
“So, what’s the proposition?”
“There’s a fair amount in there, and if we was to skim a few pounds off, they’d be none the wiser.”
“Don’t they count it?”
“They ’ave to move it fast, and it don’t get counted until it gets to the banker,” said Elsie. “I’ve skimmed a bit here and there before. They don’t notice a few pounds out of all that’s in there. What do you say?”
“I say no,” said Iris firmly. “Archie’s trusting me with getting this over there safe and sound, and I’m going to get it there safe and sound.”
“You’re missing a chance,” said Elsie. “You and me, we could be in for a couple of pounds extra a week.”
“I said no, and I meant it,” said Iris. “Now, let’s run. The bus is coming.”
She held the bag tightly in her lap the entire journey. There was a box inside, she could tell that much. A shoebox, maybe. But nothing rattled inside it.
When they reached New Cross Street, Elsie leaned over and whispered, “Last chance.”
“Still no,” said Iris. “Which is the house?”
Elsie sighed and walked her to the address. They walked up to the second storey. Iris knocked on the door.
It swung open, and Archie stood there, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
“Well done,” he said. “Give it over.”
“You’re the bloke,” said Iris, handing it to him.
“I’m the bloke,” he replied. “This time, anyhow. Come in, ’ave a cuppa.”
They walked into the flat. A porcelain tea service was set up on a card table.
“Questions?” asked Archie.
“So this was a test,” said Iris. “I’m guessing there ain’t no money in the bag.”
Archie took out the box, opened it, and poured a pile of loose banknotes on the table.
“Well?” he said, turning to Elsie.
“She resisted all temptation,” said Elsie.
“Good,” said Archie, turning back to Iris. “That was the test.”
“So I passed,” said Iris.
“In part,” said Archie.
“What did I miss?”
“You didn’t give up Elsie,” he said. “She told you she’d been skimming from me, but you didn’t tell me about it.”
“I was waiting for a moment when she wasn’t ’ere,” said Iris. “I din’t want you to kill her in front of me. Bloodstains are ’ard to get out of clothes.”
“Oh, that’s real nice, innit?” said Elsie.
“Well, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt on that,” said Archie. “But if you work for me, then you’re loyal to me. Not to the girls you ’ang out with, not to the lad you love. It’s Archie. Got that?”
“Got it, Boss,” said Iris.
“Good. Milk or lemon?” he said, pouring.