Page 77 of Ghost in the Garden
“About me working at Silver and Grey rather than being a maid—don’t think I’m cut out for that, but I like being at the office, and finding out about people. Mr. Grey said I was good at it.”
“But you were so eager to be a lady’s maid,” Constance reminded her.
Janey grimaced. “I was eager to be respectable, and I wanted to be the best, but I can’t even stop swearing. How would that go down with some hoity-toity mistress? To say nothing of a stuck-up butler and all the other servants?”
“Not well,” Constance agreed. “Which is why I’m trying to cure you of the habit. But, you know, you can’t swear at our clients either.”
“Don’t have to, do I? Got set things to say to them, then smile and show them out.”
Constance regarded her doubtfully. She had spent so little time in the office with Janey that she could not judge. “I’ll speak to Mr. Grey and we’ll think about it. You’ve certainly been invaluable this week.”
Janey grinned. “I have, haven’t I? You wanting a bath? And what you going to wear?”
What with bathing and dealing with a few housekeeping matters before she left the house, it was after eleven o’clock before Constance let herself into the Silver and Grey offices.
She knew at once that Solomon was there. She could smell him,feelhim. Though her heart beat too loudly, she kept to the ritual they had formed in the first, un-busy days of opening.
She stuck her head into his office, uttering a cheerful “Good morning.”
He rose from behind his desk. “Good morning. Angela has paid.”
Contance raised her eyebrows and walked across to him. “In full?”
“Including your wages for four days’ work as her maid.”
“She’s paying us off,” Constance said slowly. “Does that mean she doesn’t want to see me today after all?”
“I think we should go.”
“So do I. The house is likely to be swarming with police, after all. Cup of tea before we go?”
“Why not?”
She smiled to see that the stove was lit in the kitchen. Perhaps nothing had changed after all. She would keep their conversation impersonal.
“How is Janey managing in the office?” she asked as she brought in the tray and set it on the low table between the armchair.
“Well. She takes in the post, notes appointments, and, so far as I know, hasn’t put any clients off. Someone knocked in passing yesterday, so we now have three appointments next week, and some jewels to find. She and Lenny Knox did a good job between them of following Angela Lambert.”
“Knox,” Constance repeated, pouring a splash of milk into the cups. “Is he still in St. Giles?”
“Actually, we can probably find him at your mother’s new shop in Covent Garden.”
Constance blinked and set down the jug.
“He’s building her some shelves,” Solomon said gravely.
“You’re not paying for this, are you? I don’t see how she can afford the rent, never mind refitting the entire premises.”
“With the sale of her old place to me. I have plans for it, particularly if I can persuade a few people to invest in running water, underground sewers, and the development of the building into decent flats.”
“Solomon, no one can afford decent flats round there. And those who can wouldn’t be seen dead in St. Giles.”
“The point is, theywillbe able to afford them.”
“They’ll sublet every space and you’ll be back to an overcrowded slum in no time.”
“Not necessarily. The rents will be reasonable, and subletting will not be allowed.”
