I reached the house with one shoe full of grit and found Ruth's trunk halfway down the front stairs. It rested crosswise on a tread, its brass corner pressed into the plaster. Above it stood a canvas grip I recognized from Eddie's car. Somebody had already decided which possessions should move down and which should move in. I put my shoulder beneath the trunk before I had enough breath to ask who had placed it there.
Curtis appeared at the landing rail. He told me to leave the passage clear. I asked whose grip stood above Ruth's trunk. He said there were men coming to stay and no reason for trouble if everybody shifted things sensibly. From below, the open front door admitted the noise of a cart going over cobbles. That ordinary sound made the blocked stair seem worse. Anyone could have looked in and thought we were simply tenants helping one another move.
I lifted the low end of the trunk onto the next step. My knee shook under the weight. Curtis came down two treads, then stopped when Ruth opened her door. She had put on her hat but carried neither handbag nor gloves. I told her to get what she needed and I would find somewhere for us before dark. She looked at the trunk against my chest. Then she asked why I had taken to giving departure instructions on Eddie's behalf.
I nearly dropped my end. I told her about the yard, keeping to what had happened: Eddie beside Sutter, my car taken, men arriving ahead of me. She waited until I finished. Then she said she had not asked me to find her another room. She had asked to remain in the one she paid for. Her voice carried down the stairwell. Curtis turned his face away, not out of shame that I could see, but because the conversation had ceased to entertain him.
Ruth took the trunk's other handle. We lifted together, awkwardly, stopping at each tread so my injured leg could catch up. At her doorway she directed me to turn the narrow end first. Inside, a clean rectangle on the floor showed where the trunk belonged. We put it there. A shelf held three cups, a folded newspaper, and a tin of tea. Nothing in that room asked for my protection. Everything in it asked to be left where its owner had chosen.
Back on the landing I found another bundle leaning against the rail. It contained two army blankets and a rolled mattress I had once brought home for nights when drivers finished late. My own generosity had furnished the occupation. I carried the bundle down before Curtis could decide whether to stop me. In the common front room, two more of my blankets lay across chairs. I folded them, keeping my scraped hand off the clean wool, and stacked them with the mattress.
Curtis followed me. He caught a blanket and said Eddie had said nothing about clearing out. I held the other end until the chair between us tipped over. Its fall brought Dorn from the rear passage. I let go before the cloth tore and set the chair upright. Then I told Curtis he could carry his own bedding, but he would not use mine to make the room a barracks. He threw the blanket at my feet and stepped outside to smoke.
Dorn surveyed the pile as though it were another unpaid bill. She wanted to know whether I was moving. I said I was removing crew things that belonged to me. She pointed to the canvas grip on the landing. I told her it was not mine to take. Nor were the lodgers' coats, baskets, or furniture. I would not cure one taking by committing another. She said distinctions would be more convincing if her front room were usable again.
I hauled my bedding into my own back room, making three trips. Between trips I pushed the crew grip against the wall so the stair was open, but left its straps fastened. Ruth watched from her threshold. Downstairs, Curtis's match flared beyond the glass. There was no victory in the cleared strip of floor; men could fill it again in minutes. Still, everyone could now see whose possessions belonged to a household and whose had arrived to impose themselves.
When I finished, Ruth came to my door. I expected another question about the yard. Instead she asked what would happen when I lost my temper tomorrow, or accepted a job, or trusted Eddie once more. I began to say that I would not. She raised her hand, stopping the promise before it left me. She needed terms with the owner, not a better intention from the man across the landing. She wanted a tenancy that would survive my next bad decision.