Rachel was putting a rail against the wall when Anna arrived. She stopped with one hand still on the metal.
“Come in.”
“Have you got time?”
“Yes.”
Anna looked at the dresses. She had imagined this room twice while on the train back: the blue dress waiting for money she hadn't earned yet, Rachel standing beside it with the knowledge of where everything fitted. Coming here had seemed easier than remaining in her own room with the morning.
“We had a good time,” she said.
“Tess told me.”
“Did she?”
“She came in.”
Anna looked at the chair beside the worktable. The silver-grey top was gone.
“She liked what you did.”
“I know.”
“I'm saying thank you.”
Rachel smiled.
“Thank you.”
Anna sat, then stood because she hadn't been asked to sit and disliked feeling she'd taken possession of the room. Rachel pulled the chair out properly.
“Please.”
Anna sat again.
“That colour was very good on her.”
“It was her choice.”
“You made it possible.”
Rachel's smile altered, warmth coming into it. Anna felt she had found the old sensible arrangement: one woman offering a skill, another receiving it, both able to like what happened because of it.
“I thought I'd be frightened of him,” she said.
“Who?”
“The boy.”
“Eli.”
“Yes. I was ready. As if he was something else taking her away.”
“Did he?”
“He told a lot of jokes. She seemed happy. That's difficult to be frightened of.”
Rachel leaned against the table.
“He seems nice.”
“He does.”
Anna looked toward the window. The afternoon was bright enough to make the shop seem dim. She'd slept badly, travelled, eaten something because Dee would expect her to be able to stand. Her own pleasure made the tiredness worse.
“I asked if I could go to some more.”
“Tour dates?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“No room in the van.”
Rachel waited. Anna could see the skill in it, the woman's ability to leave a little space where somebody else would put the words she needed.
“I meant trains as well. Other days. I don't have to go everywhere.”
“Did you say that?”
“Yes. Not well.”
“What happened?”
“She went quiet. The way she did on Thursday when I asked everything at once.”
Anna put her hands against her knees.
“I just wanted more of what happened yesterday.”
“That's understandable.”
“It doesn't feel understandable to her.”
“She may have heard something bigger.”
“She hears everything as bigger.”
Anna's voice rose. She caught it and lowered it, ashamed of making the shop another place people might hear she was angry.
“Sorry.”
“It's all right.”
“I'm always sorry. I spent the whole morning putting words in front of other words so she'd hear the thing I meant instead of the thing I'd already said wrong.”
Rachel glanced toward the door, perhaps because a person stopped outside. Anna heard the movement as another woman checking whether the difficult woman had an audience.
“I'm not going to shout.”
“I know.”
“No, you don't.”
Rachel looked at her.
“Tell me.”
Anna pressed her fingers more firmly against her knees.
“She was four.”
“I know.”
“I know you know. Everybody knows the number. It doesn't tell them anything. I remember leaving half a sandwich because she had to go to the toilet. It stayed there while I helped her. She said the bread was lonely. When she came back she put another piece beside it.”
Anna laughed, unexpectedly. Rachel smiled.
“I used to get bored. Looking after her. I don't want to pretend I spent every minute being wonderful. I wanted Lee to come home so I could sit somewhere without another person using my body as a chair.”
The old kitchen returned as she spoke: food, heat, the small child trying to sit on her while she wasn't sitting down. Lee taking Tess's hand and asking if she fancied the park. Anna calling after them about a coat.
“He'd been dead two years when it happened,” she said. “He couldn't come and collect her.”
Rachel stayed still.
“Now she's got all these people. They can take her somewhere. They can stay with her. Dad can lend his van.”
“It matters to her.”
“I know it does.”
The anger came again.
“I was there. I watched her. Don't tell me I don't know.”
Rachel lowered her head slightly.
“I wasn't telling you that.”
“I know. Sorry.”
Anna turned her hands over on her lap.
“I want to be pleased. I was pleased. Then I see the date and start counting days. There are twelve. That's what we've got before she goes. Twelve days which have work in them and sleep and other people.”
“There will be days after.”
“Not the same days.”
“No.”
Anna looked at her sharply, grateful for the refusal to improve the sentence.
“I can't bear losing another stretch.”
Rachel came off the edge of the table. She sat in the third chair, close enough that Anna could see the little mark on her finger where a needle had gone in.
“What would help?”
Anna laughed, unhappily.
“A machine for making August longer.”
“If I find one—”
“You'll charge for alterations.”
They smiled at each other. For a moment Anna wanted to lean her head back and let somebody who knew how to arrange things decide the afternoon. She could tell Rachel what hurt and receive an answer which wasn't a lecture from Leonard.
“You should go to a show,” Rachel said. “One she wants you at.”
“She hasn't asked.”
“Maybe she will.”
“When?”
Rachel's face changed at the impatience.
“I don't know.”
Anna saw she'd gone too far in expecting an answer. Rachel had arranged the first meeting, sold her a blouse, made them laugh. She hadn't promised the rest.
“I don't want her to be afraid of saying no to me,” Anna said.
“That's good.”
“But I hate hearing it. How do I get better at that?”
Rachel looked down at her marked finger.
“I don't know that either.”
The answer pleased Anna, absurdly. The respected woman could fail to know a thing. They could sit here with the problem still alive.
Anna asked, “Would you want her gone?”
Rachel looked up.
“Want?”
“Eight weeks. You see her all the time. Doesn't it bother you?”
“Of course I'll miss her.”
“But you're managing it.”
Rachel moved a little in the chair.
“I have work.”
“So do I. I've got three shifts and a room somebody else needs next week. It isn't enough to put fourteen years in.”
Rachel's mouth tightened, then relaxed.
“No.”
“I liked yesterday so much I wanted to grab it. That's what frightened her.”
Anna heard herself understanding the morning and felt no less hurt by it. Understanding had done that before, arriving without being able to improve anything.
“I need to go.”
“What time's work?”
“Four. Through close.”
“You'll be tired.”
“I'll be occupied.”
Rachel stood. Anna took the bag from the floor.
“Don't tell her all that.”
“No.”
“I'm not making you keep something terrible. I just don't want another explanation of me arriving before I do.”
Rachel nodded.
“I understand.”
Anna watched her for a moment, then said, “I hope so.”
At the door she looked back at the blue dress.
“You'll probably sell that before I can buy it.”
“I won't put it out yet.”
“You can. I don't want you turning down money because I've got nowhere to wear a dress.”
Rachel looked at it.
“Keep the possibility for a little while.”
Anna smiled.
“I might.”
Outside she went toward the Anchor. She didn't ring Tess. She would have liked to send a funny sentence, something which let Tess know the morning's disappointment hadn't used up the mother she enjoyed. Any sentence she could think of seemed to ask a question underneath it.
Lorna had messaged about Sunday's train. Anna replied with the time she'd finish lunch work and a suggestion for somewhere to walk.
At the pub, Dee handed her the apron.
“Fran says yesterday was busy. You owe her a quieter shift next time.”
“I thanked her.”
“Good.”
Anna put the apron on and folded the strap so it didn't catch her neck.
Keith was at the bar. He looked up from the newspaper and asked for another half.
She poured it.
No one had to ask her how she was before giving her something to do.