Of course.

“I sent her up to Shoes. I told her it was likely too late in the season for us to carry them, but she was determined to go see. I’ll watch your counter if you want to go

—oh, here she is,” she said as the lift opened.

Miss Laburnum emerged, carrying an enormous carpetbag. “I went to see Mrs. Wyvern and obtained the coats,” she said, setting the carpetbag on Polly’s counter,

“and I thought I’d bring them along to you.”

“Oh, you needn’t have—”

“It was no bother. I spoke to Mrs. Rickett, and she said yes, your cousin could share your room. I also went to see Miss Harding about the room for your Dunkirk friend. Unfortunately, she’d already let it, to an elderly gentleman whose house in Chelsea was bombed. Dreadful thing. His wife and daughter were both killed.” She clucked sympathetically. “But Mrs. Leary has a room to let. A second-floor back. Ten shillings the week with board.”

“Is she in Box Lane as well?” Polly asked, wondering what excuse she could give after Miss Laburnum had gone to all this trouble if it was in a street on Mr.

Dunworthy’s forbidden list.

“No, she’s just round the corner. In Beresford Court.”

Thank goodness. Beresford Court wasn’t on the list either.

“Number nine,” Miss Laburnum said. “She promised me she won’t let it to anyone else till your friend’s seen it. It should do very nicely. Mrs. Leary is an excellent cook,” she added with a sigh and opened the carpetbag.

Polly caught a glimpse of bright green inside. Oh, no, she thought. It hadn’t even occurred to her when she’d asked Miss Laburnum about the coats that she might

—

“I hoped to get a wool overcoat for your gentleman friend,” Miss Laburnum said, pulling out a tan raincoat, “but this Burberry was all they had. There were scarcely any ladies’ coats either. Mrs. Wyvern says more and more people are making do with last year’s coats, and I fear the situation will only grow worse. The government’s talking of rationing clothing next—” She stopped at the expression on Polly’s face. “I know it’s not very warm—”