No sooner had she done so—it was true that she was looking very pale, Lisa had noticed it herself—than she suddenly fell in a heap on the floor, with a ghastly thud which itself made Lisa start with a shock.
‘Oh!’ cried the girl. ‘She’s fainted!’
And she felt so shocked that she even began to tremble. Oh, what was she to do? There was Patty, stretched out on the fl oor in her black frock, as white as a sheet, with the cocktail frocks which had been draped over her arm all tumbled around and about her: and the remarkable thing was, that all the while the ridiculous man was still standing near by, doing nothing, and staring down at Patty.
‘She’s fainted,’ said Lisa to the man. ‘I’m just going to get some help.’
‘I know,’ said the man. ‘She’s my wife.’
Lisa stared at him. Good heavens, what on earth was going on?
‘Well, I’ll just get Miss Jacobs,’ she said. ‘She’ll know what to do.’
She went to fetch Miss Jacobs.
‘Mrs Williams has fainted,’ she said. Miss Jacobs threw up her hands.
‘Go and tell Mr Ryder,’ she said. ‘He’ll telephone up for the nurse.’
She hurried over to inspect her colleague. Miss Jacobs now saw the strange man.
‘If you’ll excuse me,’ she said with some sarcasm and much dignity, ‘I must attend to this lady who has fainted.’
‘I know,’ said Frank, again. ‘She’s my wife.’
‘Gracious me,’ said Miss Jacobs. ‘Well, it’s fortunate you’re here then. Even if you ought not to be. She’ll need someone to take her home. The nurse is on her way. Has she been ill lately?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Frank. ‘I’ve been away.’
‘Oh, have you?’ said Miss Jacobs. ‘I see.’
She pursed her lips.
Magda now appeared, like a crested eagle in a barnyard; she had viewed the greater part of the scene so far.
‘I have some sal volatile,’ she cried. ‘There is nothing like it!’
She fl ourished a phial. Miss Jacobs had managed to collect and hang up the fallen cocktail frocks and to loosen Patty’s clothing so far as was consistent with decency, and by supporting her with one arm around her shoulders, to raise her up to a half-sitting position. Magda held the sal volatile under Patty’s nose, and Patty opened her eyes and sat up with a great start.
The first sight which met her awakened gaze was Frank, and she stared at him for one abominable instant. Then she spoke.
‘Go to hell,’ she said.
‘Now, you’ve had a shock,’ said Miss Jacobs. ‘You just be quiet. The nurse is coming. You’re not well.’
She turned to Frank.
‘Perhaps you’d better wait somewhere out of the way,’ she said. ‘Go out onto the fire stairs, we’ll send for you when she can be taken home.’
‘Tell him to go to hell,’ said Patty.
‘Now, now,’ said Miss Jacobs.
Frank at last opened his mouth and spoke.
‘I’ve been to hell,’ he said. ‘I’ve just come back. But I didn’t have me key. I just came here to get the front door key from you, that’s all.’
‘Oh God,’ said Patty. ‘Oh Jesus. I should have known.’
And she began to cry. The nurse now arrived.
‘What’s all this?’ she said. ‘Let me see the patient.’
She began to take Patty’s pulse and to ask questions. Frank lingered near the door to the fire stairs.
‘She’d better go home then if her husband’s here,’ said the nurse.
‘Now you mind you see your doctor tonight if you’re still feeling faint. Someone should go to the locker room with her while she changes.’
Lisa was assigned this unhappy task and when she at last returned to Ladies’ Cocktail it was business as usual; Miss Cartright had helped to hold the fort and told her underlings that they could send for her again if they should find themselves too short-handed during Mrs Williams’s absence.
‘She’ll be here again in the morning with any luck,’ she said. ‘It’s probably just the heat, and not eating a proper lunch. I always tell you girls but some of you won’t listen. Eat a proper lunch!’
She sailed away in a fl utter of black and white stripes. This is not like Mrs Williams, she thought. Fainting, on the second fl oor!
It really won’t do. Still, that’s the sales for you: the end of the week can’t come too soon, I can tell you!
47
‘Patty Williams fainted this afternoon,’ said Lisa.
‘Good heavens! What, in Goode’s?’
‘Yes, right in the middle of Ladies’ Cocktail,’ said Lisa.
‘Her husband was there too.’
‘Her husband? but what was he doing there?’ asked Mrs Miles, astonished.
‘I don’t know,’ said Lisa. ‘Fay and I had to look after the section while Miss Jacobs was with Patty and the nurse so we didn’t hear what was going on. All I know is, that—’ and she recounted the events which she herself had witnessed.
‘Well, that all sounds very odd to me,’ said Mrs Miles. ‘Fancy him turning up there like that. And then her fainting. Goodness me. Don’t you go fainting, now. Do you eat a proper lunch when you forget to take your sandwiches? Promise me. You see what can happen if you don’t. She ought to know better at her age. Poor thing. I wonder why she hasn’t had any children.’
‘You should see her husband!’ cried Lisa.
‘Now Lesley, what do you know about that?’ asked her mother.
‘Well, he’s completely gormless,’ said Lisa.
‘So are lots of men,’ said Mrs Miles. ‘It doesn’t stop them from becoming fathers.’
Now that fathers had been mentioned the related subject of Lisa’s future was brought before them; it could hardly be avoided.
The distractions of Christmas and the New Year were behind them and Lisa’s fate was very nearly in view: the Leaving Certificate examination results were to be published at the end of the week.
They would appear in the Saturday editions of the Herald and the Telegraph; a large number of the examinees would go and inspect them on the proof-sheets of the first editions, which were posted for the purpose outside the news paper offices late on Friday evening. It might have been thought that Lisa’s father, privy much sooner still to the vital information, could have passed it on earlier in the day but so delicate was the subject of these results and the prohibited ambition which depended upon them that the subject had not been mentioned in his presence. He himself had expressed no interest in it whatsoever.
‘I suppose you’ll go down to the Herald on Friday night to see the results,’ said Mrs Miles in a matter-of-fact tone.
‘Oh, yes, probably,’ Lisa agreed with an air of equal unconcern. ‘I might as well.’
Mrs Miles could see nothing for it but to allude directly to the question which was now so immediate.
‘If you’ve done very well,’ she said, ‘if you’re pretty sure to get that scholarship, then I think it might be a good idea if we let your father stew for a few days after the results come out. I know he’s very stubborn about you not going to the university but all the same, it might be a good idea to let him stew. There’s plenty of time to try and talk him around before you’d have to enrol.’
‘Oh, I suppose so,’ said Lisa unhappily.
She could hardly endure the idea of further waiting, further uncertainty.
‘There’s a few more weeks before the scholarship list is announced anyway,’ Mrs Miles pointed out. ‘Just let him stew. You can wait.’
‘And if I don’t get good results,’ said Lisa, ‘there’s nothing to worry about anyway.’
‘No,’ said Mrs Miles. ‘But you will.’
And she knew this for a fact, she felt it in her bones.
‘Don’t you worry, Lesley,’ she said, ‘Lisa. Everything will work out. You’ll see. You just make sure you eat properly. Eat a proper lunch; don’t go fainting like that Mrs Williams. What was
that stuff you wanted me to try and get for your sandwiches like you had at Magda’s? Salami? Well, I’ll see if I can find any. I suppose there’s some salami somewhere in Chatswood. I’ll have a good look tomorrow. Salami. I’ll write it down so I don’t forget.’
48
They went home to Randwick in a taxi, sitting side by side in complete silence, and then Patty found her front door key and they stepped across the threshold. Frank followed his wife into the kitchen and sat down awkwardly on a chair; she filled the electric jug and switched it on. While she waited for it to boil she studied the charming picture on the packet of Billy Tea, of a man sharing a cup of tea with a kangaroo. They were a more congenial couple than she and Frank, that was quite certain. This reflection was almost funny; she half-realised that the whole situation was almost funny.
‘Where have you been?’ she asked, quite calmly.
‘Wagga,’ said Frank.
Patty thought for a moment.
‘Wagga?’ she said. ‘Wagga?
’ ‘Phil O’Connell,’ said Frank. ‘Who used to work at Wonda. Came into some money and bought a pub there. You remember. He was always asking me to go down, at first. So I went to have a look. Gave him a hand over Christmas and the New Year—there’s lots of extra trade then.’
‘You never thought to tell me of course,’ said Patty. ‘I’m only your wife. I wouldn’t worry, would I? I wouldn’t be wondering what had happened or anything, would I? I wouldn’t have to tell lies for you at Wonda Tiles or spend two weeks feeling sick and terrible and then have you just turning up at Goode’s like that, I don’t know how I’ll ever show my face there again. I don’t even know why you’ve come back here now. I suppose you ran out of clean shirts, did you? Well you can sort out your own bloody shirts from now on. I’ve had enough!’
And she burst into tears and ran into the bedroom.
Frank followed her and stood in the doorway wondering what to do. She was lying on the bed, crying, with her face pressed into the pillow. At last he came over and sat down heavily on the side of the bed. He touched her shoulder.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I never thought of all that.’
‘Well you’re stupid then!’ cried Patty. ‘Stupid and selfish!’
‘Yes, I suppose that’s right,’ said Frank. ‘I have been.’
He thought about this for a time.
‘I should have thought,’ he said. ‘I had my mind on other things.’
‘Like what, for instance?’ asked Patty.
‘I dunno,’ said Frank. ‘I just felt—well—after that night— you know—I thought you wouldn’t want to see me again. For a while.’
‘You thought!’ cried Patty. ‘You thought that, did you? You’re lying. It’s you didn’t want to see me, that’s more like it!’
And as she said this, she knew it was true; and it was something she had not known at all, had not even suspected: it had just come into her mind, just now, as Frank had spoken. Frank looked down at the floor and Patty saw the shame and confusion on his face.
She felt not tenderness or sympathy, but a sort of resignation. Oh God, her mother had been right: men were children, who did not understand themselves, and could not. Frank suddenly looked at her.
‘I’ll make it up to you,’ he said. ‘I promise.’
‘Oh, yeah,’ said Patty. ‘We’ll see, won’t we?’
And suddenly the future looked, as it had not done for years and years, interesting. She sat up.
‘I’m that hungry,’ she said. ‘Could you go down the street and get us some fish and chips? I’ll just ring Mum while you’re out, she’s been that worried about you. Don’t be long; I’m starving.
’
49
‘Honestly, Joy, I can’t see what’s so funny, Patty must—’
‘Oh Dawn, for God’s sake, can’t you? It’s the funniest thing I’ve heard for years! Frank buggers off like that without a word, then turns up two weeks later in the middle of the Ladies’ Cocktail at Goode’s because he’s lost his front door key—it’s priceless! Wait till I tell Dave!’
‘You don’t have to make a comedy out of it, Joy. You wouldn’t be laughing if it happened to you. You never think of what Patty’s gone through.’
‘More fool Patty. Well, maybe she’ll know better now. It’s time she sharpened her wits. I wouldn’t have had him back, not at any price!’
‘Yes, well, you’re not Patty like I keep saying. And that reminds me, how did she look to you on Sunday? Did she look sick or anything? I mean it’s not like her to faint. She says she’s not going in to work today, she’s not feeling a hundred percent. She’s going to the doctor. I don’t like the sound of that.’
‘Oh, she’s all right, she was her usual self on Sunday, didn’t say much, didn’t do much, sat on the beach with the papers and that.
She’ll brighten up now that Frank’s back, ha ha ha.’
‘Well, maybe she’ll have a break, maybe she’ll take some sick leave, have a rest for a while. She’s had a bad time, she needs a break. You just mind your tongue when you talk to her, she hasn’t got your sense of humour.’
‘Yes, that’s her problem, isn’t it? Well, maybe she’ll learn.
She’d better, if she’s going to stick with Frank. Oh God, what a story. Didn’t have his key! If only that was the only thing he didn’t have!’
‘Honestly, Joy,’ said Dawn. ‘You’re awful.
’
Miss Cartright came swishing over to Ladies’ Cocktail and having cast an expert eye over the remaining sale items on their rail she beckoned to Lisa.
‘We’ve just heard from Mrs Williams,’ she told her. ‘She saw her doctor yesterday and the result is that she will be away for the rest of this week and the whole of next. As you know, this was to have been your last week with us but it would be a great help if you could come in next week to cover for Mrs Williams because although the sales finish this week, thank goodness, there’ll be lots to do next week with the new stock going out. You’ll have to work like a slave. Are you game?’
‘Gosh,’ said Lisa, delighted. ‘Of course!’
‘Jolly good,’ said Miss Cartright. ‘That’s settled then. I’ll be helping out here during this week if you find yourselves shorthanded. I’ll just go and speak to Miss Jacobs so that we all know where we are.’
She swished away. Lisa could not wait until lunchtime: she ran across the carpet and entered Magda’s pink-lit cave.
‘Magda!’ she said in an urgent whisper. ‘Is it still here?’
Magda understood her instantly.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It is still here.’
‘It’s sold,’ said Lisa.
‘Very good,’ said Magda. ‘I will put it aside for you.’
She returned during her lunch hour after having changed.
‘Ah, Mademoiselle Miles,’ said Magda, beaming. ‘You have come to collect your frock, yes? It is ready for you—shall I pack it or did you wish to try it on once more?’
‘Oh Magda—I’m sorry—I can’t take it away today, I haven’t any money with me. I won’t have all the money until tomorrow week—you see I’m working next week as well to cover for Patty Williams while she’s sick.’
‘Ah yes,’ said Magda. ‘I see. Well it is not the usual thing in here but for so distinguished a customer I make an exception. I will put it away in the alterations cupboard until next week. Oh, by the way’—she took Lisette, the rustling white and scarlet-spotted fantasy of young girlhood, from its padded hanger and shook it out so that its flounces floated once and sighed back down again—‘Miss Cartright has been in here this morning. All our white dresses, this and two others, are a little further reduced. With the staff discount, Lisette is now exactly thirty-five guineas. We are giving it away.’
‘Oh,’ exclaimed Lisa, ‘that’s absolutely wonderful!’
She counted the contents of her money box in her head: after paying for Lisette she would actually have some change.
50
<
br /> ‘Jánosi?’ said Myra.
‘How do you spell it?’ Fay told her.
‘Well,’ said Myra. ‘It takes a bit of getting used to. But he could change it, you know. Quite a few of them do that.’
‘Rudi won’t,’ said Fay. ‘Rudi says the best thing to do when there’s anything unusual about you is to brazen it out.’
‘Oh, does he?’ said Myra.
‘Well, that’s one way I suppose. Especially if you’ve got a thick skin.’ Fay bridled.
‘Rudi is the most sensitive man I ever knew,’ she said.
‘Okay, don’t get shirty,’ said Myra. ‘I didn’t mean to be offensive. I just think—’ she broke off and looked wildly into the space beyond Fay’s right shoulder.
They were drinking iced coffee in Repin’s, and then Fay was going to meet Rudi, and Myra was going to her club. What did Myra think? It was difficult to articulate and more difficult still to enunciate. Myra was in a state of mild shock, that was all. Fay! Swept off her feet, by a Hungarian reffo with an impossible surname, whom Myra had not even met, whose motives she darkly suspected. What was he after? This would end in tears, make no mistake! And the only obstruction between Fay and a horrid disaster was she, Myra.
But how to save the silly creature, when she could hear no word of criticism of this Rudi Jánosi—when she had great blinding stars in her eyes? Oh, God give me strength, thought Myra. What can I do?
‘What do you think?’ asked Fay.
‘Oh, I dunno,’ said Myra. ‘It’s just that—well, you haven’t known him long, you don’t know anything about him really—you don’t—I don’t want to see you get hurt.’
‘I’d rather get hurt by Rudi than by the types I used to know,’ said Fay.
Myra was inclined to take umbrage at this: those types were her types. But she was fair-minded; she saw Fay’s point, even if she didn’t want to grant it.
‘At least with an Australian you know where you are,’ she said huffily.
The Women in Black Page 14