Grace put the wristlet in the drawer of the small table next to her bed.

Viv sniffed at a savory aroma in the air and drifted toward the bedroom door. “I heard Mrs. Weatherford is making toad in the hole tonight. With your mother’s recipe. Do you think it’s done yet?”

When Grace was a child, her mother made the meal with such regularity, Grace had grown tired of the stuff. It was a funny thought that she should crave it so much now after years of having gone without it and knowing her mother would never make it again.

“We can go down and see.” Grace shared her friend’s eagerness. “Thank you for my wristlet. And for thinking of me.”

Viv squeezed her arms around Grace. “Always, darling.” Her stomach gave a rumble, and she clapped a hand over it with a giggle.

Together, they left the room and descended the stairs, both breathing in the scent of Yorkshire pudding and browned sausage. Midway down, Mrs. Weatherford’s hushed whisper filled the stairwell. “Good evening, Mr. Simons, it’s Mrs. Weatherford.”

Viv stopped in front of Grace and mouthed, “Colin’s boss.”

“I want to ensure you’ve had success in securing Colin as an essential employee,” Mrs. Weatherford said in an uncharacteristically quiet voice. Clearly she did not want Colin to hear.

This was not a conversation they ought to be listening in on.

Grace shook her head to Viv, indicating they should move on. But Viv simply waved off Grace’s concerns with her hand and stayed put.

“How long do you expect until you receive a response?” Mrs. Weatherford’s question was followed by a long pause. “I see,” she said at last. “I shall call again tomorrow to see if you’ve heard back.” Another pause, this one shorter. “Yes, tomorrow,” she said firmly. “Good evening.”

A click of the receiver being set in its cradle indicated the call had ended. Viv breezed down the stairs as if they hadn’t just been listening in on a clandestine chat they should never had heard.

“The toad in the hole smells divine,” Viv exclaimed. “Is it nearly time to eat?”

“Is it seven in the evening?” Mrs. Weatherford smoothed the apron over her lavender housedress, as cool and collected as Viv. The prickly reply was paired with a line of worry across her brow. Clearly she had too much on her mind.

“It is exactly,” Viv replied brightly.

“Then, yes, supper is indeed ready.” Mrs. Weatherford waved them into the dining room with her.

Grace said nothing, not trusting herself to speak around the twist of guilt.

“Who were you on the phone with, Mum?” Colin asked as he set the last plate on the table. There was such innocence to his question, Grace was sure he did not suspect the call’s nature.