“Well then, I’ll begin with the easiest questions and make my way through the harder ones.” She pulled over a chair, sat on it with her arms crossed, and began an interrogation Gemma knew was both serious and inescapable. “What are you making?”
“Cabbage soup.”
Móirín nodded in approval. “Is there any type of work you’d prefer, or any area of town you’re looking at?”
“Any work I can walk to from Baz’s house without spending my entire day on the walking, and any job that’ll earn me coins enough for finding a place of my own when the time comes.”
“How long have you known Vera?” Móirín asked.
“We met when we were six or seven years old. We’ve had some semblance of a friendship since.”
“But you didn’t know she married my brother?”
“She had no idea I was married; I didn’t know she were. I hadn’t even heard about the fire, in fact,” she said. Then something occurred to her. “Was her father caught in it?”
“Mr. Sorokin wasn’t in the shop when it happened. Two urchins were working there for them, and Mr. Sorokin suspected there might be danger on the horizon, so he slipped them away. He’s hiding them still. We don’t see him anymore.”
That was consistent with the man Gemma had known. Hecould be crotchety and off-putting and a bit paranoid, but he helped people in danger and in need. And he did so rather expertly. She felt full certain he was involved in a great many things he didn’t admit to.
“I’ve one more question left,” Móirín said. “Why is it you’re already planning to leave Doc’s house?”
The fact that everyone thought of it as his house, nothis and Gemma’shouse ought to’ve answered that question.
“I ain’t never been one to stay in one place long,” Gemma said. “I’ll get antsy again.” That was just enough truth to ease some of her guilt in weaving such a Banbury tale.
Móirín didn’t seem to fully believe her, but neither did she press the matter. “I know of places looking for cleaners. Sometimes ’tis backbreaking work, but ’tis reliable and safer than standing on a street corner hawking things.”
“I know how to clean,” Gemma said.
“I’ll see what I can find.”
“Thank you.”
Móirín stood. “I hope you’re planning to stay and eat some of that cabbage you’re cooking up.”
“I won’t say no.” Before Móirín could leave, Gemma posed a question of her own. “You said you don’t see Mr. Sorokin anymore. Does Vera know where he is?”
Móirín shook her head. “No one knows. He’s kept that a very close secret.”
Gemma pondered that after Móirín left the kitchen. No one knew where Mr. Sorokin was. But Gemma suspected she did. He had, after all, hidden away another young person from a dangerous situation years ago in South London, the daughter of a resurrection man, whose life had been in danger. He’d tucked her away in an abandoned and dilapidated building no one knew of and no one could find without knowing what to look for.
She knew where it was, and she knew how to find it. And ifshe was right and he was there, she needed to find him. Because there was something she desperately needed him to do for her.
Chapter 8
You’re not fully yourself today, Doc.” Mrs. Simms watched Barnabus with that stern-faced expression she so often wore. She cared about people but didn’t always show it in the traditional ways.
“I have a few things on my mind.” He sat at his desk in his sitting room.
“Like your wife, perhaps?” she asked with a pointed look as she folded bandages.
Gemmawason his mind, as a matter of fact. Something had been bothering her the night before, something other than needing a job. And though she’d slipped out early that morning, likely to go talk with Móirín about finding a position, he was certain she hadn’t left permanently. But how long would it be before she did precisely that?
“Would it surprise you if I told you she is often on my mind, and not just this past week?”
Mrs. Simms gave a firm nod. “It would surprise me, but mostly because you’ve never said a word about her.”
“It was complicated. It still is.”