‘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.
‘Oh maybe,’ said Fay, ‘but it’s not so hot if you don’t want to be there anyway. At least with a Continental you’re going somewhere new.’
‘Yes, but it might be dangerous,’ said Myra. ‘You might get hurt.’
They had gone around in a circle, it was hopeless. But what had happened to Fay in ten brief days?
‘Yes I might,’ she said. ‘It might be dangerous. But life is dangerous.’
Ye gods! ‘Life is dangerous.’ Where did she get that from?
‘You should hear some of Rudi’s stories. Then you’d know. We live in a cocoon here. That’s what he says. We don’t know how lucky we are.’
‘Well, I suppose he does,’ said Myra.
‘Oh yes,’ said Fay. ‘He knows how lucky he is; he never stops saying so.’
Myra felt suddenly helpless; she gave up the struggle. ‘Do you love him?’ she said.
‘Yes,’ said Fay, ‘I reckon I do.’ She smiled. She had not quite dared to say this yet even to herself, and to say it now was to push open a heavy door which had concealed a great sunlit garden where she was now suddenly free to wander. ‘But don’t tell anyone,’ she said to Myra. ‘It’s our secret, okay? Because you’re my best friend.’
‘Right you are, Fay,’ said Myra. Oh God, she thought, I hope this is going to work out for the kid. She’s had a lot of bad luck so far. Please let this one be okay, even though he is a Continental. And she crossed her fingers hard on the hand which Fay couldn’t see.