Joe introduced her, and as they followed him along a hallway lined with oil paintings and shopping bags, she listened as Joe did all the talking. Where she’d expected a filthy sitting room, there were clean floors and a tidy array of furniture and ornaments. Striped walls were hung with landscapes: snowy mountain peaks, tropical paradises and seaside rivieras, all places she imagined Sidney pretended that he’d been. He wore his dark hair long and slicked behind his ears, and dressed like someone who imagined a different life for himself, clothes worn like a costume rather than for function or practicality. Sidney Jardine was a wolf in suburban clothing, white eyes glaring from a weatherworn face.

“Please have a seat,” he told them.

She sat next to Joe on the sofa, gas mask case on her lap, trying to remember not to hold on to the straps too tightly or look at the floor. She was Sarah Jones, a secretary from Ilford who had friends that needed help.

“Yes, I’m sorry to just turn up like this,” she said, “but Mr. Stevenson knows there might be a business opportunity, one that’s mutually beneficial, and he was kind enough to recommend you.”

Sidney’s eyes slid between them. “What sort of business?”

“It’s all rather unfortunate, really—young women in my neighborhood who have become victims of this war,” she said. “Under normal circumstances their babies would probably be looked after by the family or one of the adoption agencies, but everything’s different now, with so many war orphans.”

“And how do you think I can help?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“These women would happily present the gift of motherhood to someone else, if there was a reward for their sacrifice,” she said, holding Sidney’s gaze.

Here she was, a mother now, her life so immeasurably altered from a year ago, most likely face-to-face with one of the engineers of her suffering. Her throat tightened as she thought about where Eadie might be, and her fingers closed around the case that no longer contained her gas mask but her father’s gun.

“Well, aren’t you a one?” Sidney said, and burst out laughing.

Joe laughed too, and Alice shifted uncomfortably in her seat. A fear of failure, not of harm, suddenly overwhelmed her, but Sidney just offered them a drink and invited her to go into more detail. She told him how many girls she knew as well as when the babies were due, all the while trying to banish thoughts of maggot-infested houses. When she thought she’d shared enough, she picked up her teacup and took a sip.

“And they’re all from decent families? I don’t want any dummies or cripples—my customers wouldn’t be happy about that.”