and that. She ran her fingers through her fringe now, rubbing at it as vigorously as Blotto scratched
his ear. Blotches of freckle the colour of toffee covered her large nose and her orange lipstick had dried out around the
edges of her mouth.
‘I hope you don’t mind me speaking frankly to you, Kitty.’
Kitty shook her head.
‘As you’ve no doubt gathered by now, I’ve lived a rather strange life. I’ve had so much fun, and I’ve seen lots of things.
And I’ve tried to learn.’
In order to avoid the other woman’s eyes, Kitty gazed at the silver ring which flashed on Mrs Steinberg’s finger as she spoke.
The woman had a habit of staring at you very intently whenever she said anything, as if she wanted to hold you in place with
her cool eyes. Kitty wished this conversation were taking place somewhere else, somewhere away from the bed where Mrs Steinberg
had relations with Mr Crane, and with something in the room to distract her, like Blotto, or even Geenie.
‘And I’ve always chosen men who might teach me something. If you know what I mean. I’ve always thought that any fun must also
be about learning something… James, my second and dearest husband – which he was in all but name – used to say that a life
without learning was a wasted existence. I hope I’ve honoured that sentiment.’ She stretched her legs in front of her. No
stockings again, and sandals with the thinnest ankle straps. Her toenails were painted green, but, Kitty noticed, the colour
didn’t quite reach the ends of each nail. ‘And I so want to learn. But I’ve never been very good on the domestic side of things.’
There was a pause. Kitty filled it by nodding.
Mrs Steinberg laughed. ‘So you agree.’
‘Agree with what, Mrs Steinberg?’
‘Never mind.’ She pressed her fingers into Kitty’s shoulder. ‘What I want to ask you, Kitty is… I want to ask for your help.’
Kitty couldn’t think of any correct response to this statement.
‘I’d like you to help me become a domesticated woman.’
‘Domesticated?’
Kitty hadn’t thought herself particularly domesticated. She wasn’t like Lou, who their mother called a tidy little homemaker . At home Kitty had thrown her dirty clothes in a pile, never baked a cake and left the washing up to her mother. Domesticated
was just her job. Before she came to Willow, she’d never made even rough-puff pastry.
‘You see, the thing with Mr Crane is that he’s really rather old fashioned, despite all his communist sympathies. And I think
that’s what he’d really like me to do, in his heart of hearts. Become a housewife. A really good one. His own mother’s an
absolute angel. And he adores you, of course, Kitty.’
Kitty felt a heat rise up her throat and spread across her cheeks. She looked down at Mrs Steinberg’s ankles.
‘You must have noticed it. I have. He really admires the work you do, for us and the girls. You’ve taken it all on, the cooking,
the cleaning – the domestic science – with such aplomb.’
The metal had returned to her voice.
‘Thank you, Mrs Steinberg.’
‘So all I’m asking is that you show me, Kitty. Show me how to keep house.’
Kitty nodded, still staring at the brittle ankles.
‘When you’re ready, you could give me a few lessons in cookery. We could go through a book together.’ She paused. ‘And, from
now on, I am going to take full responsibility for both girls. Diana will be a daughter to me.’ Mrs Steinberg gripped her handkerchief and smiled. ‘This is the beginning of my life
as a true wife and mother.’
Kitty smiled back, wondering what the woman had thought herself to be up to this moment.
· · · Twelve · · ·
B y day, Diana was calm. Her lips did not jabber; her nose did not twitch; her voice was level; her eyes were straight. She
moved carefully around the house, sitting in chairs to read books rather than lying on rugs, joining her father to listen
to the
his ear. Blotches of freckle the colour of toffee covered her large nose and her orange lipstick had dried out around the
edges of her mouth.
‘I hope you don’t mind me speaking frankly to you, Kitty.’
Kitty shook her head.
‘As you’ve no doubt gathered by now, I’ve lived a rather strange life. I’ve had so much fun, and I’ve seen lots of things.
And I’ve tried to learn.’
In order to avoid the other woman’s eyes, Kitty gazed at the silver ring which flashed on Mrs Steinberg’s finger as she spoke.
The woman had a habit of staring at you very intently whenever she said anything, as if she wanted to hold you in place with
her cool eyes. Kitty wished this conversation were taking place somewhere else, somewhere away from the bed where Mrs Steinberg
had relations with Mr Crane, and with something in the room to distract her, like Blotto, or even Geenie.
‘And I’ve always chosen men who might teach me something. If you know what I mean. I’ve always thought that any fun must also
be about learning something… James, my second and dearest husband – which he was in all but name – used to say that a life
without learning was a wasted existence. I hope I’ve honoured that sentiment.’ She stretched her legs in front of her. No
stockings again, and sandals with the thinnest ankle straps. Her toenails were painted green, but, Kitty noticed, the colour
didn’t quite reach the ends of each nail. ‘And I so want to learn. But I’ve never been very good on the domestic side of things.’
There was a pause. Kitty filled it by nodding.
Mrs Steinberg laughed. ‘So you agree.’
‘Agree with what, Mrs Steinberg?’
‘Never mind.’ She pressed her fingers into Kitty’s shoulder. ‘What I want to ask you, Kitty is… I want to ask for your help.’
Kitty couldn’t think of any correct response to this statement.
‘I’d like you to help me become a domesticated woman.’
‘Domesticated?’
Kitty hadn’t thought herself particularly domesticated. She wasn’t like Lou, who their mother called a tidy little homemaker . At home Kitty had thrown her dirty clothes in a pile, never baked a cake and left the washing up to her mother. Domesticated
was just her job. Before she came to Willow, she’d never made even rough-puff pastry.
‘You see, the thing with Mr Crane is that he’s really rather old fashioned, despite all his communist sympathies. And I think
that’s what he’d really like me to do, in his heart of hearts. Become a housewife. A really good one. His own mother’s an
absolute angel. And he adores you, of course, Kitty.’
Kitty felt a heat rise up her throat and spread across her cheeks. She looked down at Mrs Steinberg’s ankles.
‘You must have noticed it. I have. He really admires the work you do, for us and the girls. You’ve taken it all on, the cooking,
the cleaning – the domestic science – with such aplomb.’
The metal had returned to her voice.
‘Thank you, Mrs Steinberg.’
‘So all I’m asking is that you show me, Kitty. Show me how to keep house.’
Kitty nodded, still staring at the brittle ankles.
‘When you’re ready, you could give me a few lessons in cookery. We could go through a book together.’ She paused. ‘And, from
now on, I am going to take full responsibility for both girls. Diana will be a daughter to me.’ Mrs Steinberg gripped her handkerchief and smiled. ‘This is the beginning of my life
as a true wife and mother.’
Kitty smiled back, wondering what the woman had thought herself to be up to this moment.
· · · Twelve · · ·
B y day, Diana was calm. Her lips did not jabber; her nose did not twitch; her voice was level; her eyes were straight. She
moved carefully around the house, sitting in chairs to read books rather than lying on rugs, joining her father to listen
to the
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