Nell went to Iris's on Sunday at nine. She'd slept at Tess's Thursday and Friday, gone home Saturday, and spent a night hearing pipes in the wall instead of Iris turning over in the next room.
The yellow door was open. Nell could hear people in the garden. A line of little lights hung over the back step.
She knocked on the doorframe anyway.
Iris appeared from the kitchen in bare feet. “You came.”
“My tin.”
“Of course. Come in.”
Nell followed her. There were half-empty glasses on the table. A woman Nell didn't know was looking for her jacket. Iris found it for her without interrupting the story she was telling somebody outside.
It was still Iris. In this house she had room to look after more people at once.
“Your book's upstairs,” she said. “Tin's in the sink. I haven't washed it yet.”
“I'll do it.”
“You don't have to.”
Nell turned on the tap. The cake tin was round, scratched, and more important to her than it ought to be. Tess had offered to come and get it instead. Nell had said no. She wanted to take her own things and leave under her own power.
Iris stood beside her while she washed it.
“The cake was good,” she said. “I did the one with the pear.”
“That sticks.”
“I noticed.”
Nell smiled before she could stop herself.
Iris saw it. She fetched a towel and laid it out for the tin. For a moment neither of them hurried.
“Ben didn't come,” Iris said.
Nell dried her hands. “I can see.”
“He got his things yesterday. Just the bits he'd left here.”
There were two hooks on the kitchen door. One had an apron. The other was empty. Nell had never seen Ben's jacket on either hook.
“I'm sorry,” she said.
Iris looked at her. “Are you?”
Nell picked up the tin. “Yes. Not for all of it.”
Iris went out into the garden to say goodbye to the last visitors. Nell waited by the table. One of the women smiled at her on the way past, easy and friendly. She didn't know Nell had threatened Iris. She didn't know any of it. Nell envied her that.
When the door shut, Iris leaned against it for a moment.
“I hate parties ending,” she said.
“You never used to.”
“You were still there.”
Nell looked toward the stairs. “I'll get the book.”
“I can get it.”
Iris went ahead of her. Nell followed to the landing but stayed outside the bedroom. The house was quiet now. She could hear a faint rustle as Iris moved things on a shelf.
“Here.”
The book's cover was stained with butter. Inside the front page, Tess had written, Stop pretending you don't know how to cook.
Nell held it against the cake tin.
Iris opened the door to the room with the window seat.
“I put a bed in.”
Nell looked in despite herself. Fresh white sheets. A small lamp on the floor because Iris hadn't got a table yet.
“It's not for you if you don't want it,” Iris said. “But it could be.”
“Iris.”
“I don't mean forever. Tonight. You could stay tonight.”
Nell walked back toward the stairs.
“We could have breakfast,” Iris said behind her. “No money talk. No Sam. Just us.”
At the bottom, Nell put the tin into her bag, then the book on top of it. The zip wouldn't close. She left it open.
Iris came down slowly. “I used to be allowed to ask you to stay.”
“You can ask.”
“Then why do you look at me like that?”
Nell lifted the bag to her shoulder. “Because I said no.”
Iris's face crumpled for a second. She wiped at her nose with the heel of her hand, impatient with herself.
“I know I made a mess of it.”
“Yes.”
“I thought when you got here—”
Nell waited.
Iris looked around the kitchen, at the good counters, the clean bowls, all the things she'd bought. “It doesn't matter.”
“I can't come every time you're lonely,” Nell said.
“That's not what I'm asking.”
“It's what happens.”
She went to the front door. It was easier to open from inside. She put her hand on the latch.
Behind her, Iris said, “You don't have to be good company to come home.”
Nell's hand stopped.
The hallway had gone very quiet.
She turned around.