‘That’s exactly what I said. So,’ she nods at the window display, ‘are you looking – or lifting?’

Harriet’s eyes widen. ‘Buying,’ she says firmly.

‘’Course you are. I’ll come in with you, if you like. Keep you company while you choose.’

The surge, the thrill, runs through Harriet. Fear and excitement. She knows. She knows what will happen, if Ruby is in the shop with her.

‘I’d like that,’ is all she says. She grips the door handle tightly as she turns it. ‘But we won’t be long. I know which pair I’m buying.’

Ruby doesn’t need long. Alice Dunning said her hands moved like lightning.

Harriet tries to remain calm, steady, the picture of Kensington respectability, as she greets the shop assistant with a polite ‘good morning’.

Ruby is at her shoulder. ‘Shame not to try on a few pairs… See the colour of them… You should do that.’

‘Suits you, that blue.’

They sit at a cloth-covered table in a café, sharing a pot of tea and plate of cakes. Harriet’s new gloves, pale blue kid leather, lie next to her saucer. Harriet is treating them both.

‘Thank you.’ She pours milk into Ruby’s teacup. ‘And what did you find, while I was paying for them?’ She sounds prim. More disapproving than she intended. She had, as Ruby suggested, tried on several pairs of gloves before deciding, aware that Ruby had, at times, been distracted during the transaction.

‘I didn’t buy anything,’ Ruby says, picking up an iced bun and inspecting it.

‘I know. That’s not what I asked.’

Ruby says nothing and bites into the sweet dough.

‘How many pairs did you take?’

Ruby shrugs, chewing. ‘Half a dozen, maybe.’ She speaks with her mouth full. ‘And a bag.’ She nods towards the floor.

Harriet had not noticed a handbag. Ruby must have tucked it under her arm just as they left the shop. Now it sits by her feet, small and neat, dark green leather with bone handles.

‘I shan’t be allowed to return to that shop, you know,’ Harriet says.

‘You have new gloves. You don’t need to go back there, do you? And other places sell gloves.’

Ruby is right. Even if she did ever return, the staff will have long forgotten her – and the fact that she harboured a thief and pretended to know nothing about it. She presses her legs together tightly, remembering how she felt when they left the shop. Knowing that Ruby had stolen something.

‘Where did you hide the gloves? In the pockets of your coat?’

The question is unanswered.

‘What will you do with them? You can’t wear them all at once.’

Ruby licks her fingers and dabs up the remains of the bun from her plate.

‘I’ll keep them, for now.’