The frenzy mounted steadily throughout the afternoon, taking on an edge of hysteria at around four o’clock and liquefying into near panic at five. The last thirty minutes made demands on the staff of F. G. Goode’s which their native stoicism alone enabled them to meet; but at last the ultimate Christmas sale was made, the crowd was all expelled, and the great glass and mahogany doors were closed and bolted fast.
Fay dashed up the fire stairs to change and retrieve her travelling bag: if she were to get to Central Station in time to meet Myra for the early evening train to the Blue Mountains she had not a minute to spare. Patty followed her slowly; the dreadful day was ended, the more dreadful evening now threatened. Appalling as was Frank’s mysterious absence, the thought of his possible return, of meeting him once again in these new and awful circumstances, was in a way more appalling still. She moved wearily towards her locker: it was strange how very tired she felt: it was not the exhaustion of the day’s work, but a lethargy more deadly, almost like sickness, and the journey home seemed an immense undertaking.
Lisa skipped up the stairs with a light heart. There was Magda, to whom she had had no chance to speak throughout the extraordinary day. She called her friend, who turned.
‘Ah, Lisa,’ she said with her best smile, ‘how are you this evening? Stimulating, this Christmas Eve nonsense, is it not? I have sold four Model Gowns this afternoon all to ladies who are attending the party tonight of Mrs Martin Wallruss, they feared at the last minute to be outdone. I am laughing like a drain. Tell me, did you ask your mother if you may come to my party? There is no need to acquire the couture model in order to attend in style, anything you happen to have will do very well.’
‘Oh yes, I did,’ said Lisa. ‘She asked me to thank you, she says I can come—I am looking forward to it!’
‘Very good,’ said Magda. ‘And let me wish you and your family a happy Christmas now—here!’
And she kissed Lisa on each cheek.
‘Now,’ she said, ‘there is someone else to whom I must say a word pronto—goodbye, Lisa.’
Fay was just emerging from the locker room when Magda laid an elegant hand on her arm.
‘If I may detain you for just five seconds,’ said she, with a charming smile.
‘Me?’ asked the astonished young woman artlessly.
Magda laughed.
‘I have to make a request of you,’ she explained. ‘My husband and I are having a New Year’s Eve party—we would be so glad if you could come. There will be many people, some at least I hope will interest you—you would be doing us so great a favour, for the fact is we are slightly short of young ladies—is it not ridiculous? It is usually young men who are so thin on the ground. What is a party without many attractive girls? Please say you will come—Lisa will be there, so you will not feel a complete stranger.’
‘Well,’ said Fay, quite unable to think—in a dreadful hurry, and in any case astounded by the invitation—‘thank you, I suppose I could come—New Year’s Eve—that would be real nice—yes, thank you!’
Merde, thought Magda. Thank God that is done. Now Rudi has his healthy Australian girl, much good may it do him.
‘You know that Magda,’ said Fay to Myra as they sat on the train while it trundled through the suburbs on its way to the Blue Mountains, ‘you know, who does the Model Gowns—’
‘Oh yeah,’ said Myra, ‘I know.’
‘Well, she’s asked me to her New Year’s Eve party.’
‘Crikey! Are you going?’
Myra had tried to persuade Fay to come in a large party of acquaintances to the New Year’s Eve gala night at her club, when she herself would be very much on duty, in a new emerald green chiffon number with an orchid worked in silver and black sequins on one shoulder.
‘Well, I said I would,’ said Fay. ‘You never know.’
‘It might be good,’ said Myra. ‘Those Continentals always have nice food and drink, anyway. They know that much. You might even meet someone interesting, who knows?’
‘Oh, I think they’ll all be Continentals,’ said Fay.
Then she suddenly thought: like Count Vronsky. He must’ve been a Continental.
‘Do Russians count as Continentals?’ she asked Myra.
‘Who are you thinking of?’ asked Myra.
‘Oh, no one in particular,’ said Fay. ‘I just wondered.’
‘Well, I suppose they do,’ said Myra. ‘But you know they’re not allowed out, Russians. You never really see any Russians, do you? They’re all in Russia.’
‘I suppose you’re right,’ said Fay. ‘Still, if they were allowed out, they’d be Continentals, don’t you think?’
‘Oh yes, I reckon so,’ said Myra. ‘All them people are Continentals.’