It was during lunch that Moira had a few questions of her own. She addressed them to the four men, rather than individually. Her voice was soft, her Irish accent a gentle one rather than the strong rural accent Blackie often heard from new immigrants from his home country.

“I’m told I’ll be living in this place called Upper Armley, just outside Leeds, but who with? And will I find work there?” she asked.

It was Patrick who answered at once. “I’ve arranged for you to work for a very nice woman, Mrs. Gertrude Wilson, and her husband, Alfred. However, Mr. Wilson spends most of his time in London. The Wilsons own a lovely mansion in a small grove called the Towers. There is a housekeeper, Mrs. Caulfield, a butler called Harrison and two maids. You will live in, and be in service. Mrs. Wilson will have you work as a parlormaid. How does that sound to you, Moira?”

“Very nice, Mr. Kennedy, and are you quite sure Mrs. Wilson will accept me?”

“Lass, who wouldn’t? Mrs. Wilson is a customer of mine. As I told you earlier, I own a carpentry and building business, with Blackie as my partner. She knows us well, and certainly we know her to be fair, kind and a good employer.”

“Thank you, Mr. Kennedy. I am grateful.”

“My pleasure, Moira. Do you have any questions?”

“Several. Do I have a day off, or half a day? Or none at all?”

“You have Saturdays off. And you’ll be getting a wage from Mrs. Wilson. She did not tell me how much. But no doubt she’ll discuss it with you.”

Moira nodded, gave him a huge smile, her cheeks dimpling. “I am looking forward to my new situation. Thank you again, Mr. Kennedy.”

A few minutes later, Gladys returned carrying two plates of food, serving Moira first, and then Finn. Within a short while, Gladys was back with plates for Patrick, Jack and Blackie.

There were lots of compliments from the four men, and Moira, as they tasted the food, obviously enjoying it.

Blackie’s thoughts ran on as he relished his fish-and-chips. Once the main course was over, he would insist everyone have a pudding so that he could question Moira. His curiosity about her tantalized him.

Once they had demolished their dinner, Blackie pushed his plate away and said to Finn, “They have the best pudding here at the Blue Door. I’m going to ask Gladys to bring us the menus.” Turning his gaze on Moira, he said, “What about you? Do you like desserts?”

“Sometimes. I’d like to look at the menu, Blackie, thank you.”

“Gladys will bring them, but I can remember several of my favorites. Eton Mess and Strawberries Romanoff.” He stared at her, noticed how her face changed, and she smiled. “I like those too.”