“I thought you lived with some of the girls. Maude, Ivy. Don’t they live at White City too?”
“Nearby.” Leah saw them at the shops from time to time. Maude and Ivy wore snagged tights and pencil-thin skirts, and smoked. Ivy curled her hair in the movie-star style. They would smile at Leah, but looked on with pity bordering on smugness as she struggled Ethel around the grocery displays and shelves of household goods. “Where do you live?”
“Putney. I have a landlady. I can’t bear the woman.”
Patrick said this last easily, naturally and, Leah was sure, most people would accept such a statement, putting the animosity down to resentment at interference or overly strict house rules. But Leah was caught for a moment, marvelling that a person could feel such a sentiment so clearly, so unequivocal
