Free The Winds of Marble Arch and Other Stories by Connie Willis

her china?”
    “I don’t know. I haven’t seen her since this morning,” I said.
    “Oh, look, there she is,” Sara said, and began waving.
    Cath was standing in front of the Lyric, next to the water-spotted sign that said, “Tonight’s Performance Sold Out,” looking numb and cold.
    “Why didn’t you wait inside out of the rain?” I said, leading them both into the lobby.

    “We ran into each other coming out of the tube,” Sara said, pulling off her scarf. “Or, rather, I saw Tom. I had to
scream
to get his attention. “Isn’t Elliott here yet?”
    “No,” Cath said.
    “He and Mr. Evers came back after lunch. The day was
not
a success, so don’t bring up the subject. Mrs. Evers insisted on buying everything in the entire gift shop, and then we couldn’t find a taxi. Apparentlythere are no taxis down in Kew. I had to take the tube, and it was
blocks
to the station.” She put her hand up to her hair. “I got blown to pieces.”
    “Did you change trains at Embankment?” I asked, trying to remember which line went out to Kew Gardens. Maybe she’d felt the wind, too. “Were you on the Bakerloo Line platform?”
    “I don’t remember,” Sara said impatiently. “Is that the line for Kew?You’re the tube expert.”
    “Do you want me to check your coats?” I said hastily.
    Sara handed me hers,jamming her long scarf into one sleeve, but Cath shook her head. “I’m cold.”
    “You should have waited in the lobby,” I said.
    “Should I?” she said, and I looked at her, surprised. Was she mad I was late? Why? We still had fifteen minutes, and Elliott wasn’t even here yet.
    “What’s the matter?”I started to say, but Sara was asking, “Did you get your china?”
    “No,” she said, still with that edge of anger in her voice. “Nobody has it.”
    “Did you try Selfridge’s?” Sara asked, and I went off to check Sara’s coat. When I came back, Elliott was there.
    “Sorry I’m late,” he said. He turned to me. “What happened to you this—”
    “We were all late,” I said, “except Cath, who, luckily, was theone with the tickets. You
do
have the tickets?”
    Cath nodded and pulled them out of her evening bag. She handed them to me, and we went in. “Right-hand aisle and down to your right,” the usher said. “Row three.”
    “No stairs to climb?” Elliott said. “No ladders?”
    “No rock-axes and pitons,” I said. “No binoculars.”
    “You’re kidding,” Elliott said. “I won’t know how to act.”
    I stopped to buy programsfrom the usher. By the time we got to Row 3, Cath and Sara were already in their seats. “Good God,” Elliott said as we sidled past the people on the aisle. “I’ll bet you can actually
see
from here.”
    “Do you want to sit next to Sara?” I said.
    “Good God, no,” Elliott joked. “I want to be able to ogle the chorus girls without her smacking me with her program.”
    “I don’t think it’s that kind ofplay,” I said.
    “Cath, what’s this play about?” Elliott said.
    She leaned across Sara. “Hayley Mills is in it,” she told him.
    “Hayley Mills,” he said reminiscently, leaning back, his hands behind his head. “I thought she was truly sexy when I was ten years old. Especially that dance number in
Bye-Bye, Birdie.”
    “You’re thinking of Ann-Margaret, you fool,” Sara said, reaching across me to smackhim with her program. “Hayley Mills was in that one where she’s the little girl who always saw the positive side of things—what was it called?”
    I looked across atCath, surprised she hadn’t chimed in with the answer—she was the Hayley Mills fan. She was sitting with her coat pulled around her shoulders. Her face looked pinched with cold.
    “
You
know Hayley Mills,” Sara said to Elliott. “We watchedher in
The Flame Trees of Thika.”
    Elliott nodded. “I always admired her chest. Or am I thinking of Annette?”
    “I don’t think this is that kind of play,” Sara said.
    It wasn’t that kind of