“Right you are,” said Thomas. She scraped back her chair, smiled at Maisie as she pushed it under the table, then turned and left the cafeteria.
Maisie topped up her teacup, and sighed. She had not taken a bite of her cake. She wrapped it in a paper napkin and placed it in her bag, then pulled the remaining cake left by Francesca Thomas towards her and began to eat. What had Thomas seen on the photograph that had unsettled her? What was the emotion she’d experienced that gave rise to a comment that could only disable Maisie’s thoughts? She knew the words were akin to Thomas drawing her sword. But why would she reveal herself in such a way? What had led her to be so unguarded in that moment?
“Well, you both enjoyed those Eccles cakes, didn’t you, madam? Would you like more tea, or something else?”
“No, I’ll just settle up.”
It was later, as Maisie walked to the underground station to catch a train back to Warren Street, that she realized she knew quite well which of those faces had undermined the tight control Thomas was accustomed to exercising over her emotions. And she decided that, at the present time, she would do nothing more about it. Like a fisherman on the bank of a river, she would play out her line, she would watch the fly skim across the water’s surface, and she would bide her time. It would serve her to wait.
Chapter 10
With Billy dispatched to speak to Mike Elliot about his friend Frederick Addens, Maisie made her way to Maida Vale to see Clarice Littleton. The address furnished by Sandra—before Maisie sent her home to rest—was that of a flat in a tall terrace house built over one hundred years earlier. Maisie thought it resembled the house where her own home was situated, though she was fortunate to have the ground-floor flat, which offered more space given the doors leading out to the garden. Clarice Littleton lived on the third floor, which entailed climbing several flights of stairs. When Maisie reached her door, a note pinned to the frame informed callers that Miss Littleton would be “back in five minutes.” She checked her watch—Littleton had left ten minutes ago, according to the time penciled on the note. But she had not informed the woman of her visit, so she would wait. Maisie thought it interesting that a note had been left at all. Had the woman been expecting a visitor who might arrive early while she was out on an errand? Or was she perhaps lonely, and did not want to miss a friend who had popped by on the off chance of her being at home. Maisie thought it might be the latter, and hoped Miss Littleton would not be disappointed. She checked her watch again, and leaned against the bannister.
Two minutes later, she heard the front door to the house slam, then the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs towards her. It sounded as if the woman had been running, for her breathing was labored. As she reached the last stair bringing her to the third floor, she stopped and put her hand on her chest. Then she saw Maisie.
“Oh my goodness, you made me jump.”
“I’m sorry,” said Maisie. “I thought you might be expecting someone—you left a note.”
Clarice Littleton waved a hand as if the note were of little significance. “Oh, I always leave a note—you never know when someone might call, and I wouldn’t want to miss a visitor. Not that I get many of those—though I have two letters today!” She smiled, holding up the post she had just collected from a table set inside the front door. It was a welcoming smile, a smile without guile. “Come on in—if you’re waiting here, then it’s me you want to see.”
Littleton unlocked the door and led Maisie a few yards along a hallway, dropping the letters on a small table set against the wall as she went. She opened another door on the right, which led—Maisie knew already—into the drawing room. She had anticipated the entire geography of the woman’s flat. A door to the right would lead to the drawing room, with big bay windows overlooking the street. If she had proceeded farther, a second door to the right would lead to a bedroom, and that to the left to another bedroom. A bathroom would come next, also on the left, and then there would be a kitchen, with perhaps a small room—possibly used as a dining room—overlooking a brick yard at the back.