“Thank you.”

“How are things with Archie?”

“Fine,” said Iris noncommittally.

“Only fine? You haven’t added ‘dandy’ to the mix yet?”

“Fine and dandy, sugar candy,” said Iris, picking up her pile of letters and opening them.

“And that’s all you are going to say?”

“All right, you’ve bullied it out of me!” said Iris, slamming her correspondence down on the desk. “We have secretly married. I am going to run half the gang. And I am with child.”

“My God, Iris!” exclaimed Gwen in horror.

“Triplets, in fact,” continued Iris. “The middle one seems to be the brute, but it’s difficult to sort out. They do keep moving about in there. It’s like a shell game.”

“Beast.”

“Busybody.”

“I’m concerned. Can’t you see that?”

“It’s only been three dates.”

“Three? It was two as of yesterday.”

“He came over last night,” said Iris. “I was sneezing and blue. He brought curry for the one and whisky for the other.”

“And after?”

“And after, he left. In between, he was the perfect gentleman.”

“You’ve had the most well-behaved courtship of your life with a gangster,” said Gwen.

“I know,” said Iris. “I’ve gone through the mirror into Looking-Glass Land. But it’s still early. Plenty of time for it to go horribly wrong.”

They took the train to Greenwich in the afternoon. Gwen consulted her directions when they emerged from the station.

“It should be north, towards the river,” she said. “We’re early.”

“We should have come at noon,” said Iris. “We could have swung by the Royal Observatory and set our watches on the meridian.”

The architecture evolved from Georgian to Victorian as they walked from the station. They emerged from the curved rows of houses and passed the Royal Observatory. Iris carried a small brown leather camera case at her side.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“He lives near the Royal Naval College. He lectures there.”

“War stories and he’s a lecturer,” grumbled Iris. “There had better be tea. There’s the maritime museum. Have you taken Little Ronnie there yet?”

“Of course. It’s part of every child’s adventures. I really must take him again soon. Maybe Saturday—no, that won’t do.”

“Why not?”

“He will be attending a birthday party.”

“That should be jolly for you.”

“I was not invited.”

“Really? Snubbed by a six-year-old?”

“By his mother. My psychiatric situation is known in our circles. She doesn’t want me around her children.”

“Why? Is she afraid you’ll suddenly strip to your knickers and howl at the moon?”

“That would be educational for the children, wouldn’t it? Yes, something like that. So I’ve decided not to press the issue with my mother-in-law. Not while things are on the mend.”

“I’d go,” said Iris.

“I know,” said Gwen. “But I’m not you. And you’re not Ronnie’s mother. I’ll choose my own battles, and a child’s birthday party is not one of them, thank you. Here’s the address. Oh, how pretty!”

Unlike in the center of Greenwich, the homes here were separated. The Buchanan-Wollastons owned a two-storey wooden house that possessed both a front porch and a small balcony, both overlooking the Thames. It was painted sea-green, with light blue-green shutters and railings. There was a pair of telescopes mounted on the balcony, one pointed out, the other up.