“Stefan, please be entirely frank with me. Do you think I am too fat in this costume?”
Magda posed herself attractively in the bedroom doorway, one hand placed on a well-rounded hip, the other gracefully resting against the jamb; she was wearing a two-piece swimming costume made of a white material with large dark-red flowers printed on it.
“No, no, not for a minute,” Stefan assured her. He was reading the Sunday papers, such as they were, waiting for Magda to be ready.
“Stefan, please be serious,” said Magda. “Tell me what you really think.”
“I have done so,” said Stefan. “I was never more serious in my life. You are not too fat in that costume.”
“Not too fat,” said Magda, “but fat, yes?”
“No,” said Stefan, “not in fact fat at all.”
“I suppose you mean plump,” said Magda.
“I am beginning to wish I had never been born,” said Stefan.
“Yes, I know what you mean,” said Magda. “I feel like this when my own husband will not give me his frank opinion. It is little enough to ask.”
“My frank opinion, for the last time, is that the costume and the person inside it look perfectly okay. So could you collect your necessities now and let us be off, for I must say that if we are not on our way within five minutes I believe I shall go quite mad.”
Magda turned with a sigh and he heard her clattering about. She re-emerged in a dark blue one-piece costume over which she had thrown a beach robe.
“I like you in that costume too,” Stefan said, “almost as much as the other.”
Magda clucked.
“Let us go, then,” she said. “I do not want to see you go mad.”
They argued about whether they would go to Bilgola or to Whale Beach, and decided at last on the latter just as they were approaching the former, but at last they were settled under their umbrella with their towels and cushions, books and picnic basket, in time for a swim before lunch. After the swim they argued no more; the blue Pacific had washed away all their irritation, as it generally does.
While they were eating their cold chicken Magda said, “Have you noticed something strange? We have heard nothing from Rudi this weekend. I wonder why.”
“Well, he is obviously engaged elsewhere,” said Stefan.
“No, but where?” asked Magda.
“Oh, good heavens, how should I know? There is any number of possibilities,” said Stefan.
“I would not have thought so,” said Magda. “I see only one.”
“And what could that be?” asked Stefan incredulously.
“Well, did you not see who he left the party with?” said Magda.
“No,” said Stefan, “I did not notice. Rudi I think always leaves a party with a girl, usually the prettiest—but I did not see him go.”
“I did,” said Magda. “He left with Fay. He was taking her home.”
“That is the least he could do,” said Stefan, “after you had gone to the trouble of asking her, a nice healthy Australian girl, just for his benefit. Didn’t he say he wanted to marry such a one? So it would seem perfectly in order for him to take her home after the party, to say nothing of for the rest of her life. He must begin somewhere. They are probably married by now, come to think of it—the party is almost a week ago.”
“Oh, do be serious,” said Magda. “How can you joke about such a matter? If Rudi is indeed with Fay now, if he is continuing to see her, then I feel I should know of it. I feel responsible.”
“And well you might,” said Stefan. “I thought it was you who were not serious, when you proposed inviting her in order to accommodate Rudi.”
“Well, I was and I wasn’t,” said Magda. “I was half-serious. But no more. Whereas, if Rudi is seeing her, then the thing becomes more than half-serious, and I feel my responsibility.”
“I do not see why you worry,” said Stefan. “She is an adult, after all. She can look after herself.”
“I don’t know,” said Magda. “Rudi is rather a wolf, I believe. She is a naïve Australian girl, experienced no doubt only with clumsy Australian men. I wonder whether she can deal with someone like Rudi.”
“Oh, what is this fuss,” said Stefan. “He cannot harm her. He is probably a very amusing companion for her. She is probably having the time of her life.”
“So long as she does not get her heart broken,” said Magda darkly. “It will be my fault if she does.”
“Oh, do not dramatise,” said Stefan. “They will live happily ever after, and have many fine children; they will ask you to be the godmother, and will be in your debt forever for having introduced them to each other.”
“Do not joke, I implore you,” said Magda. “You know perfectly well that such a match is quite impossible. Rudi and Fay! I only thought he might amuse himself a little at the party with his healthy Australian girl—and she dances very well, did you see? She told me she had been for a while a professional—that is all. I did not take his idea of marrying seriously, I did not think he meant me to do so. But if he is taking her out now—well, that I would not have expected. What can they have in common? He will break her heart yet, you will see.”
“This is melodrama,” said Stefan. “The reality is that both are at a loose end, it suits them both for the time being to see each other, that is all. Look! I am almost as bad as you—we do not know if they are in fact seeing each other at all. Rudi may be amusing himself at this moment with someone quite different.”
“No, I feel he is with Fay,” said Magda portentously, “and I hope that there is only amusement, on each side. But she is a woman, although an Australian, so you know it is never after all only amusement on the part of a woman. The heart is always engaged, and so may be broken. And it will be my fault.”
“I think you are crossing the bridge before the horse has bolted,” said Stefan. “It is time for another swim. Come along!”
“I should have telephoned Magda and Stefan this weekend,” said Rudi. “I have seen them so often; they will think my silence odd. I will do it later perhaps.”
He and Fay were sitting on a large towel on Tamarama Beach eating sandwiches provided by Fay: there were two rounds filled with peanut butter and celery, and two with cheddar cheese and lettuce. Rudi was charmed.
“So these are Australian sandwiches, are they?” he asked.
“I suppose they must be,” said Fay. “Are they different from Continental sandwiches?”
“I will make you some one of these days,” Rudi assured her, “and you will see.”
He ate another, pensively, tasting the flavour of the country. There was fruit to eat afterwards and then Fay read some more Anna while Rudi looked about him, sizing up the young women and making mental notes on the behaviour of the families in the vicinity.
He was fairly sure that the forthcoming chapter of Fay’s life story would contain details which she might feel some shame in divulging, for if ever there were a girl who had, according to the code of the time and place, fallen, however inadvertently, then Fay was likely to be that girl. The thing was to elicit the details as quickly and painlessly as possible, to reassure her, and to pass on swiftly to the tale’s conclusion which must thereafter be nigh. Then, after delivering a somewhat edited account of his own amours, he could at last begin to prepare the ground for a possible proposal of marriage. What a time these things took!
“I have decided to live in the Eastern Suburbs, by the way,” he remarked. “The North Shore is very pretty but it is too far away. And on this side there is more bustle, it is more like city than suburban life. So I am going to look seriously for a flat this week—I prefer Bellevue Hill but it is so expensive; perhaps I will try Rose Bay or Vaucluse. What do you think?”
“Well, they’re all nice,” said Fay wonderingly.
Rudi was talking about the posh side of the Eastern Suburbs; well, he had announced his intention of making lots of money; perhaps he would begin to do it soon. Oh, how frightened she felt. Here she was, with an extraordinary man, so kind, so understanding, so funny, and attractive too, and determined to be rich into the bargain, and why he was interested in her was an entire mystery; but the point was that soon—for she was sure she could not conceal these episodes—he would learn about Mr. Marlow and Mr. Green, and that would very likely be that. In the midst of the blissful sensation which Rudi’s attentions to her had induced she felt the sudden sharp bite of fear. My life is wrecked, she thought; she put down her book and looked out at the sea.
“A penny for your thoughts!” said Rudi.
“Oh, nothing,” said Fay sadly.
“Tonight, when we are having dinner,” said Rudi, “for that is what we shall do tonight if you are free—yes?—good—you will tell me the rest of your story. Or would you rather tell it to me now?”
“No,” said Fay. “I’ll wait until tonight.”
It will be easier with something to drink, she thought.
“After that it will be my turn to tell you about my own disgraceful past,” said Rudi. “You will probably not want to know me after you have heard the tale!”
Fay looked at him uncertainly, and then they smiled at each other. Rudi leaned over and kissed her cheek. She suddenly realised that everything was going to be quite all right.
“It’s time for another swim,” Rudi said. “Come along!”