They’d reached an accommodation now, though—he thought they were friends. “Yes. He’s frailer,” he said, finally. “Do you need anything? Can I do anything for you?” He didn’t want to prick her pride, but he had to ask. “Is Ted back to work again?”
“Yes. We’re managing.” She wiped her hands on her apron, a habitual gesture. “He’s got steady work on the market now. And Nancy is going to be leaving school next month, she’s fourteen. My sister Laurie has got her a job at the bakery down in Kentish Town. That’ll help.” She collected up the tea things and put them on the tray as she spoke. “Come on into the kitchen. He’ll sleep ‘til tea-time now.”
* * * *
She poured him another cup of freshly made tea from the fat, brown teapot and he sat at her scrubbed kitchen table and cupped the enamel mug
