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went on.
    Pearl busied herself at the sink. ‘You’re low on Flash,’ she answered.
    Alicia felt indignant. Was Pearl ignoring her deliberately? She had bent down into the cupboard to look for something and her big bottom was sticking up quite plainly in Alicia’s direction.
    Alicia quivered with fury. ‘What are you rummaging for?’ she snapped. ‘Tell me.’
    Pearl straightened up painfully. She said, ‘The rag-bag.’
    For some reason, that mortally offended Alicia. ‘Well, kindly don’t,’ she cried shrilly, ‘while I’m trying to tell you something.’
    Pearl sighed. To Alicia’s astonishment, she pulled out a chair and sat down at the kitchen table. Alicia completely lost track of what it was she was trying to tell her. She had never seen Pearl sitting down at her kitchen table, or anywhere else for that matter, in all the months that Pearl had worked for her. For a moment, the two of them looked at each other, shocked, and then Alicia – she had no idea what had come over her – was so struck by the sight of Pearl sitting down that she blurted out rustily, ‘Would you like a cup of tea before you start work?’
    It was hard to say which of them was the most surprised by this suggestion, but Pearl quickly answered, ‘Oh no, thank you, Mrs Queripel,’ and made to get up.
    But Alicia detained her. ‘A most extraordinary thing,’ she gabbled on. ‘I don’t know what to make of it.’
    Pearl sat politely at the kitchen table, despite her size a pupil sitting straight for the teacher. But she couldn’t help herself and she had to smother a yawn.
    Alicia was so carried away by what she had begun, so eager to share her anxiety, that she ignored this rudeness. ‘I’ve got my theory,’ she said, ‘but I could be wrong.’
    Pearl propped her chin on her cupped hands. She looked at Alicia wearily and, for the first time ever, Alicia thought she detected resentment in Pearl’s blood-shot eyes. But her mind was all on her mystery and in a frenzied rush, she carried on regardless.
    ‘It was on Sunday,’ she said, ‘round about teatime.’ (It suddenly occurred to her that she didn’t know whether Pearl and her family had tea at the same time she did, nor what they had, nor any details of their domestic life at all.) She added, ‘Around five.’ She clasped her hands, for dramatic effect, as she set the scene. ‘It was getting dark. It was raining. I was here in the kitchen, getting my tea – a couple of chops you know, new potatoes and peas – right here by the draining-board, when all of a sudden the bell rang.’ She clutched her hands to her throat to convey her panic. ‘Who could it be? At that hour? On a Sunday? In all that windand rain? Round here? I was petrified. They didn’t just ring the once, whoever it was, they rang twice, while I waited in here for God knows what. Then I plucked up my courage; I went over to the kitchen door, I stood just here and I looked out to see what I could see.’ She paused, peering up the hall as she had done on Sunday. ‘I got the shock of my life. I was expecting a grown man of course, up to no good, but there was this short little shape out there, no bigger than this. While I was watching, he rang again and as I was debating in my mind whether or not to answer, he coolly turned on his heel and walked away. Didn’t give me a chance to make up my mind.’
    ‘Gracious,’ Pearl said absently. She stood up. ‘I’ve got to get the house done now, Mrs Queripel. I don’t feel my best today, I’ve been up all night.’
    ‘Up all night?’ squawked Alicia.
    ‘At the hospital. My little boy’s been hurt in an accident. He was knocked down in the Uxbridge Road by one of those hit-and-run drivers.’
    Straining ferociously, she found the rag-bag at the back of the cupboard. She pulled it out and went into the scullery.
    Devastated, Alicia came after her. ‘Hurt?’ she repeated. ‘Badly hurt?’
    Pearl ran the taps thunderously into the bottom of the