A smile rose as she leaned against the counter. She liked knowing she could contribute to resistance work whilst protecting Gerrit and Charlie. Of course, without more ink, their work would cease—which would protect them completely.
Joan poured the ferric chloride crystals into a new conical flask and added a measured aliquot of water. The water turned reddish-brown. “I’ve received fewer prescriptions from you lately.”
Ivy raised a rueful smile. “I’m seeing fewer patients.”
“Because of your sister.”
“Yes.” Gossips like Ethel and Kitty du Puy and Doris Mollet didn’t help.
“Ironically, if everyone knew how you help the escapees, you’d be seen as a heroine. They’d flock to your doors.”
Ivy chuckled, but she’d rather save the escapees than her practice. “How is your business?”
“Quiet but stable.” Joan swirled the flask, and the color of the solution complemented her auburn hair. “Fewer goods and medications to sell, but my work is more interesting. I enjoy compounding from scratch and extracting medications from plants.”
“You’ve made some ingenious discoveries.”
“Not my ingenuity. Those who came before me.”
Ivy shuffled her thoughts around Joan’s humility. “But you did the detective work to find that ingenuity.”
“I’m simply stubborn. Shall we see if this works?” Joan held up the flask of ferric chloride. “How shall we apply it?”
“I brought an old paintbrush.” Ivy pulled it from her skirt pocket.
Joan laid the silk scrap on a marble slab. “Do be careful. Ferric chloride is corrosive. Don’t get it on your skin.”
“Thank you.” With the brush, Ivy painted the brown solution on the silk. Soon, letters took shape in brilliant red—her own name. “Look at that. It works.”
“It does. How exciting. Would you like the ink packaged in a bottle?”
“Crystals would be better.” That’s what Gerrit had requested.
“I’ll make powder papers.” On a notepad, Joan scribbled calculations. “It’s 0.75 percent, but you’ll want household measures. Aquarter cup ... sixty milliliters ... 0.45 grams. How many doses would you like?”
“How about a dozen?”
Joan set a square of paper on the scale. “Write a prescription, and I’ll type labels for the box with the mixing instructions as if it were a headache remedy.”
“Brilliant.” Ivy pulled her prescription pad from her bag, confirmed the dosage with Joan, and wrote the instructions. If Gerrit fell under suspicion, he could toss the cardboard box and powder papers in the fire to destroy the evidence.
Joan removed the paper and crystals from the scale and folded the paper into a tiny pouch. “Powder papers take time. Do you want to pick it up tomorrow? I don’t know if I’ll finish before ten o’clock curfew.”
“I have a curfew pass. We’re fine until the electricity turns off at eleven.” Ivy tore the prescription from the pad and handed it to Joan.
Her jaw dropped. “For Opal Jouny?Your aunt?”
Ivy couldn’t write a prescription for Gerrit. The Germans had their own doctors, and civilian physicians weren’t allowed to treat German troops or men in Organisation Todt. “Don’t worry. Aunt Opal isn’t a spy.” But she housed one spy and hosted another.
With her lips tucked in, Joan set down the prescription and measured another dose of antipyrine. “Your aunt is in the lifeline, sheltering a fugitive.” A question lifted her voice.
“Yes.” Now Joan knew this was no ordinary fugitive.
Joan’s deep-set hazel eyes rounded in shock. Then a smile leapt up. “This is rather thrilling, isn’t it?”
Ivy laughed. “It is.”
“Ferric chloride, a 10 percent solution in water. Pass that on.”
