Sarah Waters - The Night Watch

'I've got to make the most of mine, then,' said Binkie, raising her glass. 'Here's how.'

At six o'clock they heard the wireless starting up on the barge next door: they opened the doors, to listen to the news. Then a programme of dance-music came on; it was too cold to keep the doors open, but Mickey slid back a window so that they could still hear the music a little, mixed up with the buzz and splutter of passing engines, the bumping of the boats. The song was a slow one. Kay kept her arm around Helen's waist, still lightly stroking and smoothing it, while Mickey and Binkie chatted on. The heat from the stove, and the gin in her cocktail, had made her dozy.

Then Helen moved forward, to reach for her drink again; and when she sat back, she turned and caught Kay's eye, a little awkwardly.

'Who do you think I saw today?' she said.

'I don't know. Who?'

'A friend of yours. Julia.'

Kay stared at her. 'Julia?' she said. 'Julia Standing?'

'Yes.'

'You mean, you saw her in the street?'

'No,' said Helen. 'That is, yes. But then we had a cup of tea together, from a van near my office. She'd been to a house nearby-you know, that job she has, with her father?'

'Yes, of course,' said Kay slowly.

She was trying to push away the mix of feelings that the sound of Julia's name always conjured up in her. She said to herself, as she always did, Don't be silly . It was nothing . It was too long ago . But it wasn't nothing, she knew that… She tried to picture Helen and Julia together: she saw Helen, with her round child's face, her untidy hair and chapped lips; and Julia, smooth and self-possessed as a cool dark gem… She said, 'Was it all right?'

Helen laughed, self-conscious. 'Yes. Why shouldn't it have been?'

'I don't know.'

But Binkie had heard. She knew Julia too, but only very slightly. 'Is that Julia Standing you're talking about?'

'Yes,' said Kay, reluctantly. 'Helen saw her today.'

'Did you, Helen? How is she? Still looking as though she's spent the entire war eating steak tartare and drinking glasses and glasses of milk?'

Helen blinked. 'Well,' she said, 'I suppose so.'

'She's so frightfully handsome, isn't she? But- I don't know. I've always found looks like hers rather chilling, somehow. What do you think, Mickey?'

'She's all right,' said Mickey shortly-glancing at Kay; knowing more than Binkie.

But Binkie went on. 'Is she still doing that thing of hers, Helen-going over bombed houses?'

'Yes,' said Helen.

Mickey picked up her drink and narrowed her eyes. 'She ought,' she murmured, 'to try pulling somebody out from underneath one, some time.'

Kay laughed. Helen lifted her own drink again, as if not trusting herself to answer. Binkie said to Mickey, 'Dear girl, talking of pulling out bodies-did you hear what happened to the crew over at Station 89? Jerry struck a cemetary and hit the graves. Half of the coffins were blown wide open-'

Kay drew Helen close again. 'I don't know, I'm sure,' she said very quietly, 'why one's chums should like each other, just because they are one's chums; and yet one expects them to, somehow.'

Helen said, without looking up, 'Julia's the vivid kind of person people either like or don't like, I suppose. And Mickey's loyal to you, of course.'

'Yes, perhaps that's it.'

'It was only a cup of tea. Julia was perfectly nice about it.'

'Well, good,' said Kay, smiling.

'I don't expect we'll do it again.'

Kay kissed her cheek. She said, 'I hope you do.'

Helen looked at her. 'Do you?'

'Of course,' said Kay-thinking, actually, that she rather hoped they wouldn't, since the whole idiotic situation clearly made Helen so uneasy…

But Helen laughed, and kissed her back-not uneasy, suddenly, at all.

'You darling,' she said.

'Miss Giniver,' said Miss Chisholm, putting her head around Helen's door, 'there's a lady to see you.'

It was a week or so later. Helen was fastening papers together with a clip, and didn't look up. 'Does she have an appointment?'

'She asked in particular for you.'

'Did she? Blast.' This was what came of giving out your name too freely. 'Where is she?'

'She said she wouldn't come in, as she's rather shabby.'

'Well, she can hardly be too shabby to come in here. Tell her we're not fussy. She must make an appointment, though.'

Miss Chisholm came further into the room and held out a folded piece of paper. 'She wanted me to give you this,' she said, with a hint of disapproval. 'I told her we weren't in the habit of accepting personal post.'

Helen took the note. It was addressed to Miss Helen Giniver , in a hand she didn't recognise, and there was a dirty thumb-print on it. She opened it up. It said: Are you free for lunch? I have tea, and rabbit-meat sandwiches! What do you say? Don't worry, if not . But I'll be outside for the next ten minutes .

And it was signed, Julia .

Helen saw the signature first, and her heart gave an astonishing sort of fillip in her breast, like a leaping fish. She was horribly aware of Miss Chisholm, watching. She closed the paper smartly back up.

'Thank you, Miss Chisholm,' she said, as she ran her thumb-nail along the fold. 'It's just a friend of mine. I'll- I'll go out to her, when I've finished here.'

She slipped the note under a pile of other papers and picked up a pen, as if meaning to write. But as soon as she heard Miss Chisholm going back to her desk in the outer office, she put the pen down. She unlocked a drawer in her own desk and took out her handbag, to tidy her hair, put on powder and lipstick.

Then she squinted at herself in the mirror of her compact. A woman could always tell, she thought, when a girl had just done her face; she didn't want Miss Chisholm to notice-worse, she didn't want Julia to think she had put on make-up especially for her. So she got out her handkerchief and tried to wipe some of the powder away. She drew in her lips and bit repeatedly at the cloth, to blot off the lipstick. She slightly disarranged her hair. Now , she thought, I look like I've been in some sort of tussle -

For God's sake! What did it matter? It was only Julia. She put the make-up away, got her coat and hat and scarf; went lightly past Miss Chisholm's desk and out along the Town Hall corridors to the lobby and the street.

Julia was standing in front of one of the grey stone lions. She had on her dungarees and her denim jacket again, but this time, instead of a turban, her hair was tied up in a scarf. She had her hands looped around the strap of a leather stachel, slung over her shoulder, and she was gazing at nothing, rocking slightly from foot to foot. But when she heard the swinging back of the bomb-proofed doors she looked round and smiled. And at the sight of her smile, Helen's heart gave another absurd lurch-a twitch, or wriggle, that was almost painful.

But she spoke calmly. 'Hello, Julia. What a nice surprise.'

'Is it?' asked Julia. ' I thought that, since I know where you work now…' She looked up at the sky, which was clouded and grey. 'I was hoping for a sunny day, like last time. It's pretty chilly, isn't it? I thought- But tell me, if this sounds like a lousy idea. I've been working so long among ruins, on my own, I've forgotten all the social niceties. But I thought you might like to come and look at the house I've pitched up in, in Bryanston Square-see what I've been up to. The place has been empty for months, I'm sure no-one would mind.'

'But, I'd love to,' said Helen.

'Really?'

'Yes!'

'All right,' said Julia, smiling again. 'I won't take your arm, as I'm so filthy; but this way is nicest.'

She led Helen along the Marylebone Road, and soon made a turn into quieter streets. 'Was that the famous Miss Chisholm,' she said as they went, 'who took my note? I see what you mean about those pursed lips. She looked at me as though she thought I had designs on the office safe!'