A smile pulled at Lily’s lips. Ivy was all the time rearranging the furnishings. Even back when they were both in the nursery, Lily could remember awaking from a nap to find that three-year-old Ivy had pulled her bed over to the window, or half into the closet, or piled every pillow in the house on top of it to make it look “pretty and new.” A habit that had increased with age . . . and perhaps with strength. At least once a month, Ivy would enlist the help of their shared maid in scooting this piece of furniture over there or that other one into the corner or whatever suited her fancy at a given time.

After leaving St. James’s Park, she crossed Piccadilly and aimed toward Hyde Park and the school perched near its westernmost edge. She slipped easily through the familiar wrought-iron gate and climbed the steps as she’d done nearly every day for the last decade. First when she attended the girls’ school, and then to walk home with Ivy when she was a student, and now to walk her home when she was a teacher. The walk along parts of the park to Curzon Street was one they’d always enjoyed taking together. Whenever possible, they still did.

The corridors of the school were empty of all but that silent echo that signaled the absence of life usually filling a place. She knew Ivy loved that unnatural quiet. It had always felt a bit spooky to Lily. But after she’d trotted up the stairs inside, the corridor did magnify the few noises, assuring her Ivy was in her classroom.

Lily leaned into the doorway with a smile. “You know, most teachers enjoy their holiday away from school.” It was still odd sometimes to come and see her baby sister about her work. Teaching—something she never imagined her sister taking on before war changed the landscape of their lives. All grown up.

Ivy looked up with a warm smile that said she was right where she belonged. “What do you think?” She motioned toward the room.

Last week, when Lily had stopped in, the desks and benches—wide enough to fit two students at each, though occasionally three were squeezed in—had been arranged in a circle, with Ivy’s tall chair and blackboard in the middle. Today they were back in neat rows, but angled toward one another in a V, giving them a view not only of Ivy and her board by the window, but also of each other.

Lily tilted her head. “Do you really think it a good idea to give them such a clear view of the window?”