The woman was silent, obviously ruminating on Emma’s story. Emma’s mind raced. Persuasion, flattery, and charm were having no effect at all. Perhaps she should appeal to her greed. ‘I can pay you a month in advance, Mrs Daniel. After all, a little extra money is always useful, isn’t it? For that attic you never rent,’ Emma said pointedly, and began to open her purse.

Gertrude Daniel, widow woman and childless, was not as surly as she appeared on the surface. In fact, her dour manner and grim face actually belied a rather kind heart and a pithy sense of humour. However, she had the strongest desire to close the door in the girl’s face. She wasn’t interested in the money. And she didn’t like women boarders. Troublemakers, they were. Yet there was something about this particular girl that held her attention, and she had said she was married. Involuntarily, and to her enormous astonishment, she found herself saying, ‘We’d best go inside. I don’t want ter be discussing this on the front steps, with all the neighbours watching from behind their blinking curtains. Not that I can rent yer the attic, mind yer. But perhaps I can suggest another place yer can try.’

With this statement she opened the door wider and admitted Emma into the tiny hall and led the way to the front parlour. Gertrude Daniel was now considerably confused. She did not know for the life of her why she had let the girl into the house. Broken her own rule, she had. Her husband, Bert, had run off with their woman boarder years before. Still, Bert was kicking up daisies now. Nevertheless, she had never rented a room to a woman since then, and she had no intention of doing so now.

The front parlour was a shrine to Victorian bad taste. It was bursting with black horsehair sofas and chairs and mahogany whatnots. Purple chenille cloths covered a table, a piano, and a large stand. There were potted aspidistras on various other surfaces not crowded with bric-à-brac and the most revolting copies of famous oil paintings virtually jumped off the walls, which in turn were covered with bright red flocked-velvet wallpaper that stung the eyes.

‘Sit down, then,’ said Mrs Daniel, her voice still harsh.

Emma placed the suitcase on the violent red-and-purple Turkey carpet, and perched on the edge of a horsehair chair, clutching her bag. She was desperately trying to think of something infinitely more persuasive and ingratiating to say, when Mrs Daniel cut into her thoughts.

‘This is the best parlour,’ said the landlady, preening. ‘Nice, isn’t it?’

‘Oh, yes, indeed. It’s beautiful,’ responded Emma swiftly, adopting her most sincere tone, whilst thinking how horrid it was.

‘Do yer really like it?’ asked Mrs Daniel, her voice suddenly an octave gentler.

‘I do! Very much.’ Emma glanced around. ‘Why, it’s one of the most elegant rooms I’ve ever seen. It’s superb. You have excellent taste, Mrs Daniel,’ gushed Emma, remembering words she had heard Olivia Wainright use so often in the past. She bestowed a glowing and admiring smile on Mrs Daniel.

‘Well, fancy that. Thank yer very much.’ Mrs Daniel was inordinately proud of her front parlour and for the first time her face softened.

Emma did not fail to notice this and grasped the opportunity. She opened her bag deliberately. ‘Mrs Daniel, won’t you rent me the attic, please? I said I would pay in advance. If you’re worried about the money I-’

‘No, that’s not it,’ interjected Mrs Daniel. ‘If Rosie recommended yer, I knows yer all right for the brass-’ Gertrude Daniel now hesitated, her eyes resting appraisingly on Emma. She had been scrutinizing her from the moment she had opened the door. Like Rosie earlier, she had noticed the girl’s clothes at once. The frock was a bit dated, but good. She had also become increasingly aware of the girl’s manners, her air of rectitude and refinement, her cultivated voice. This is Quality, she thought, and before she could stop herself, she said, ‘Well, I don’t know whether me second attic would be suitable for yer, seeing as how yer such a fine young lady. But, since yer’ve nowhere ter go at the minute, I’ll show it ter yer. Mind yer, it can only be for a few weeks.’

Emma wanted to fling her arms around the woman’s neck from sheer relief, but she kept herself perfectly still. ‘That is very kind of you, Mrs Daniel. I do appreciate it,’ she said in her most dignified voice, imitating Olivia Wainright yet again.

‘Let’s go up, then,’ said the landlady, rising. She turned and threw Emma a quizzical look, eyebrows arched. ‘And how come a fine young lady like thee knows Rosie at the Mucky Duck?’ she asked, suddenly puzzled by the odd association.

Stick to the truth, such as it is, a small voice warned Emma. She said, without the slightest hesitation, ‘A workman, who used to come to Grandmother’s to do repairs to the house, knew she was not long for this world. I had explained to him I hoped to come to Leeds one day, to make a home for Winston, that’s my dear husband, and myself, and perhaps find work in one of the shops. He was a friendly sort and he told me to visit Rosie when I did come to Leeds. He felt she would be helpful.’

Gertrude Daniel had listened attentively, assessing the girl’s story. She spoke so sincerely and with such directness it was certainly a truthful statement. And it did make sense. She nodded, satisfied the girl was above board. ‘Yes, I understand. And Rosie’s a good lass. Help anybody, she would that. Providing they was worthy like.’ She nodded again and motioned for Emma to follow her.

The attic was indeed small, but it was neatly furnished with a few simple pieces, including a single bed, a wardrobe, a washstand under the tiny window in the eaves, a chest, a chair, and a small table. It was also spotlessly clean. Emma could see that from the most cursory of glances. ‘I’ll take it,’ she said.

‘It’s three shillings a week,’ intoned Mrs Daniel defensively. ‘It might seem a lot, but it’s the fairest price I can give yer.’

‘Yes, it is fair,’ Emma agreed, and opened her reticule. She counted out a month’s rent. She wanted to be certain she had a roof over her head until Blackie returned to Leeds.

Mrs Daniel looked at the money Emma had placed on the table. She saw immediately that the girl had paid a full month in advance. She was not sure she wanted her here in the house for that length of time. It was almost against her volition that she picked up the twelve shillings and pocketed them. ‘Thank yer. I’ll go and get yer case.’

‘Oh, please, don’t bother. I’ll bring it up-’ Emma began.

‘No trouble,’ said Mrs Daniel, already thumping down the stairs. She returned almost immediately with the suitcase and placed it inside the attic. She had recognized that it was made of real leather and, in fact, she had examined it carefully and another thought had struck her as she had climbed the stairs.

Now she fixed Emma with a fierce stare and said, ‘There’s one other thing I forgot ter tell yer. Since I can only manage ter take care of the two gentlemen’s rooms, yer’ll have ter make yer own bed and clean the attic.’ Her eyes swept over Emma standing in front of her, so tall and beautiful and refined in appearance. Her eyes narrowed. ‘Yer looks ter me like yer’ve led a lady’s life, an easy life, since the day yer was born, if yer don’t mind me saying so. Do yer knows how ter do housework?’

Emma kept her face straight. ‘I can easily learn,’ she remarked, not trusting herself to say another word for fear of laughter breaking loose.

‘I’m glad ter hear that,’ said the landlady bluntly. ‘And by the by, I don’t provide grub, yer knows. Not for only three shillings a week, prices being what they are these days.’ Mrs Daniel continued to study the silent girl who was surrounded by an aura of calm and dignity and, for some reason she could not fathom, she added, ‘But yer can use me kitchen if yer wants, as long as yer clean up after yerself. And I’ll find a spot in one of me cupboards, so yer can store yer groceries if yer wants.’