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“I found some in this box under the stove. Spoons too, though no forks and only one knife, and it wants sharpening.”
He rose, took the dishes, and brought them back to the table. She kept her face down, avoiding looking him in the eyes. The soup had begun to simmer, and she lifted a string from one of her packages and began to tie her hair back and out of the way.
“Don’t,” he said.
She glanced at him in surprise.
“I like it down.”
She should have taken that confession as an excuse to tie her hair back immediately. Instead, she left it loose.
“The soup smells good.”
It did. “I suppose it’s ready enough.” She lifted it from the stove and, with a rag around the handle, carried the soup to the table, ladling it as best she could with the spoons into bowls. She returned it to the stove, banked the fire, and returned with the bread. Then she sat.
He looked at the food and then her. “Do we say a blessing? I’m not used to having a woman cook for me.”
“We usually said one at the table in my home.”
“You go on then.”
She cleared her throat. It had been some time since she’d said the blessing. “Bless us, O Lord, for these thy gifts, which we are about to receive.” Was there more? She thought there had been more. But she couldn’t remember it. “Amen.”
He lifted his spoon and ate, and she followed.
“It’s good.”
“Thank you.” She wondered how long before she could go to bed and escape this awkwardness.
“Since we’re short on money,” he said after a full three minutes of silence but for the clinking of their spoons, “you should come to the pub for dinner. I ate a shepherd’s pie about midday, and the food’s not bad.”
“Do you think that’s wise?”
“I do. There were a couple of women with Innishfree. It might be useful to have you about. You could talk to them and give me impressions of the group.”
“But I’m only good with codes. That was always my role.”
Callahan set his spoon down. “Sure you can code and decode all you like in England, but I have no need of it here. Baron sent you along, and I intend to use you.” He held his hands up as though realizing what he had said. “For the swindle.”
“Mission.”
“Sure and you say turnip. I say parsnip.”
“Those are different vegetables.”
“Exactly.”
She lifted her brows. “Very well. I’ll come to the pub. Maybe I’ll overhear them plotting against the Crown.”
“They’ll not be stupid enough to say anything in public. And they won’t say anything until they trust you. We’ll have to invite them back here.”
She blinked. These were presumably the same men and women who had beaten the man Callahan had interviewed in Gaelic. He’d been so badly beaten he’d barely been able to hold his head up.
“That sounds dangerous.”
“We’re not here to set tables and make soup.”
She rose hastily. “I don’t know why I’m here at all!” She paced over to the window and peered out at the dark street. “I don’t know how to do any of this. I’m not an agent.”
