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kept blowing out the flame.
They spoke further about 'Armchair Detective' and the Radio Times ; about the BBC and Ursula's job there… Then, 'Well, my dears,' said Ursula, when her cigarette was finished, 'I must be off. It's been so nice. You must both come over, some time, to Clapham. You must come for supper-or, better still, I could put together a bit of a party.' Her gaze grew mischievous again. 'We could make it an all-girl thing. What do you say?'
'But of course, we'd love to,' said Julia, when Helen said nothing.
Ursula beamed. 'That's settled, then. I'll let you know.' She took Julia's hand and playfully shook it. 'I've one or two friends who would be thrilled to meet you, Julia. They're such fans!' She started putting on her gloves, and turned to Helen again. 'Goodbye, Helen. It's been so nice to meet you properly…'
'Well,' said Julia, as she sat back down. She was watching Ursula making her quick, smart way across the park in the direction of Portland Place.
'Yes,' said Helen, rather thinly.
'Amusing, isn't she?'
'I suppose so… Of course, she's more your class than mine.'
Julia looked round, laughing. 'What's that supposed to mean?'
'She's a bit hearty, is all I meant… When did you take her to the house?'
'Just last week. I told you, Helen.'
'Did you?'
'You don't think I did it in secret?'
'No,' said Helen quickly. 'No.'
'It was only for a minute.'
'She's not how I imagined. I thought you told me she was married.'
'She is married. Her husband's a barrister. They live apart.'
'I didn't know she was- Well.' Helen lowered her voice. 'Like us.'
Julia shrugged. 'I don't know what she is, really. A bit of an oddity, I think… Still, that party might be fun.'
Helen looked at her. 'You wouldn't want to go, really?'
'Yes, why not?'
'I thought you were just being polite. “An all-girl thing.” You know what that means.' She looked down, her colour rising slightly. 'Anyone might be there.'
Julia didn't answer for a moment. When she spoke, she sounded impatient or annoyed. 'Well, what if they are? It won't kill us… It might even be fun. Imagine that!'
'It'll certainly be fun for Ursula Waring, anyway,' said Helen, before she could stop herself. 'Having you there, like some sort of prize pig-'
Julia was watching her. She said coldly, 'What's the matter with you?' And then, when Helen wouldn't answer: 'It's not- Oh, no.' She began to laugh. 'Not really, Helen? Not because of Ursula ?'
Helen moved away. 'No,' she said; and she lay back down, with a sharp, graceless movement. She put her arm across her eyes, to keep off the sun and Julia's gaze… After a moment she felt Julia lie down, too. She must have reached into the bag and brought out her book: Helen heard her leafing through its pages, looking for her place.
But what Helen could see, in the shifting blood-coloured depths of her own eyelids, was Ursula Waring's mischievous dark gaze. She saw the way that Ursula and Julia had stood together, lighting their cigarettes. She saw again Ursula playfully shaking Julia's hand… Then she thought back. She remembered how keen Julia had been to get to the park: Come on! Come quick! -her fingers slipping away from Helen's in her impatience. Was it Ursula she'd wanted to see? Was it? Had they arranged the whole thing?
Her heart beat faster. Ten minutes before she had been lying just like this, enjoying the familiar, secret nearness of Julia's limbs. She'd wanted to hold on to that moment, make a crystal bead of it. Now the bead felt shattered. For what was Julia to her, after all? She couldn't lean to her and kiss her. What could she do, to say to the world that Julia was hers? What did she have, to keep Julia faithful? She had only herself: her pressed-meat thighs, her onion face…
These thoughts raged through her like a darkness in her blood, while Julia read on; while the band played a final parp-parp-parp , then put its instruments away; while the sun crept slowly over the sky, and shadows