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By Root 255 0

salutary than the enclosed world of the hotel, with its smells of food and scent, its notice taken of favours granted or withdrawn, its long memories, and its sharp eyes, and its contractual arrangements to behave agreeably and as if nothing untoward could ever happen. It is because we are so many women, thought Edith, to whom the scene in Mrs Pusey’s salon returned most painfully. A stupid little misunderstanding like that, if it was a misunderstanding, will go on being mined for hurt feelings, and will be exploited for one reason or another, while the rest of us will use it as a subject for conversation from here to eternity or until one of us leaves. God knows there is little enough else to talk about. But it made Mrs Pusey feel unsteady, and she is not used to that: she must talk it all away. She must distance it until her momentary weakness is clearly seen as being someone else’s fault, and in that way the shadow of her mortality will be exorcized. She is not used to fear. She has been protected for so long that she cannot understand why she should be vulnerable. In fact she cannot understand why anybody should be vulnerable. That may be why she is so ruthless. She has been allowed to proceed to her present monstrous cosiness through sheer ignorance of the world. Yet when her defences are breached she reveals an altogether shrewd grasp of the tactics needed to repair them. Poor Alain, she thought, pacing along unseeingly, her head down. Yet why poor? He is probably laughing with Maryvonne at this very minute. It is all over and forgotten. Yet that is not quite right either, she thought, mildly tormented.

When her agitation died down sufficiently to allow her hunger to gain the upper hand once more, she turned into Haffenegger’s, where she saw Monica already seated at a table and wolfing down a large slice of chocolate cake, deaf to Kiki’s tiny pleas, and so intent on her plate that she could barely spare the time to raise a fork briefly in Edith’s direction. Edith sat down near the door, drank two cups of coffee and ate a brioche; then, sighing, but because she too was lonely, she moved over to Monica, whose face was now grim and wreathed in cigarette smoke. They exchanged a steady look, nodding slightly.

‘Well,’ said Edith, with an attempt at cheerfulness. ‘Any plans for today?’

‘Do me a favour, Edith,’ replied the other. ‘I am not feeling particularly bright this morning and I do not have any plans. I never have any plans. I should have thought that was fairly obvious by now. I thought you were supposed to be a writer. Aren’t you supposed to be good at observing human nature, or something? I only ask because you sometimes strike me as being a bit thick.’ She stabbed her cigarette end into an ashtray and left it there to smoulder.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Edith, removing the ashtray. ‘I don’t feel particularly bright myself. And I didn’t say I was any good at observing human nature. Why should I be? It seems to me that what I see is so very different from what I think that I don’t trust my judgment any more. I’m just as disappointed as you are, I can assure you. Perhaps more,’ she added, sadly.

They brooded in the smoky atmosphere. The windows were once more steamed up, the coat rack laden with the heavier garments of the late season; desultory sounds of muted conversation or of spoons tapped against cups or glasses to summon the waitress brought in their wake the realization that for some people this was home, that for such people Haffenegger’s was simply a part of their daily round, their domestic routine, and that these people would go back, not to hotels, but to real houses, complete with books and television sets and kitchens, where they could sit peacefully or read or cook, where they could open the back door and throw crumbs out for the birds, and where their children and grandchildren could visit them at weekends. With aching throat Edith thought of her little house, shut up and desolate, and to which no one came. I must go home, she thought. And then, no, not yet, not while this sadness is on me. I will wait