The trays came back on Sunday, just as Nell was struggling to lift a bag of rubbish out of the bakery bin.
Iris came through the back door, saw the bag caught under the lid, and put the trays down.
“Hold that side.”
Nell did. Iris bent the lid back and the bag came free so suddenly that Nell staggered into her.
Something wet ran down Nell's wrist.
“Lovely,” she said.
Iris held the door open with her foot. “Keep it away from me.”
“Aren't we carrying it together?”
“We're supervising it together.”
They got it outside without splitting it. Iris fetched paper towels while Nell washed her arm at the back sink.
For a few minutes they worked the way they always had. Iris dried the patch on the floor. Nell stacked the returned trays. Neither asked permission for each little thing.
“You cleaned these,” Nell said.
“Of course.”
The smaller one had always had a bent corner. Iris held it up. “Is this one supposed to be like this?”
“No. It's a design choice made by my elbow.”
“I remember.”
Nell looked at her. Iris mimed Nell hauling the tray away from the hot oven, turning too fast and knocking a whole row of rolls onto the floor.
“They bounced,” Nell said.
“One got under the fridge.”
“It's still there. We've promoted it.”
Iris laughed first. Nell tried not to, then lost. It felt so good that she got angry halfway through it and looked away.
Iris put the tray down.
“I miss you,” she said.
“I'm at home every night.”
“I know.”
Nell turned the towel over in her hands. There were bakery smells all around them, yeast and sugar and yesterday's burnt crumbs. This was not where she had meant to have another argument.
“Are you moving?” she asked.
“Wednesday now. The house is still there. I still want it.”
“And Ben?”
Iris ran a nail over the edge of the tray. “Not with me.”
Nell had nothing kind that wasn't also a little lie. She put the towel aside.
“Your share at the flat?”
“I'll cover the six weeks we talked about before. I'm not leaving you with it.”
They had already been thinking of changing their housing in summer, when Nell might go to Northbay. Six weeks gave her time to make a different arrangement if the trip didn't happen. She nodded.
“Thank you.”
Iris looked pleased for half a second. Then she looked tired.
“I'm not asking you to thank me for that,” she said.
“Good.”
They both looked at the empty doorway. Nobody came through to save them.
“You'll manage,” Iris said at last. “You always do, once you get going.”
“I'd like something better than manage.”
“I know.”
Iris sat on the stool by the back counter. “Do you remember that bus trip? You'd been travelling all night, and you were barely off the bus before the message came. You still got yourself home.”
Nell went still.
She had ridden overnight to Calder, stiff and excited when she stepped off. His brother's message arrived while she stood outside the station. She'd had to buy a ticket home without seeing anyone. The brother's account had stopped replying.
“Why would you bring that up?”
“Because you think you can't do things. You can.”
“I didn't want to come home.”
“Nell, I didn't mean—”
“I didn't think I'd told you the message came just after I got off the bus.”
Iris looked at her hands. “You told me lots of things. I came to get you when you got back, remember?”
Nell remembered. Rain, the coat, Iris taking the bag because Nell's hands wouldn't close properly around it. She might have said it then. She'd hardly slept for two days.
“Don't use that to make me grateful for getting through this,” Nell said.
Iris nodded quickly. “Okay.”
Nell wiped a perfectly dry part of the counter.
“I need somebody on Saturday,” Iris said. “At the new place. Kitchen boxes and getting some food ready for later. Four hours. Two hundred and fifty dollars.”
Nell kept wiping. “You want me to help you move?”
“Not all of it. Just that. I know what you can do in four hours. I'd rather pay you than somebody I have to show where everything goes.”
“You'd have to show me.”
“You'd remember.”
Nell's phone lay by the till. She'd been putting off checking how much was left before payday. Two hundred and fifty dollars would mean groceries without calculating every item. A small amount beside what Iris owed her, still a useful one.
“My shift ends at twelve Saturday,” she said.
“One till five?”
“And then I leave.”
“Of course.”
Nell set the cloth down. “I'm not doing this for a coat or a favor.”
“I said I'd pay.”
“Then yes.”
Iris stood. She looked as if she might come closer. Instead she picked up the paper towels and put them in the new bin bag.
“I'll send you the address.”
“I saw the house.”
“Not the whole address.”
Nell waited until Iris had left, then checked her account.
She texted Sam, who had been giving her space since Thursday.
I took a paid job at her house Saturday. Four hours. That's all.
He answered, Are you sure?
She typed, No. But I'm doing it.