He drained off his paper cup of wine, gave us a look of such martyrdom that I wanted to kick his shins, and shambled away, shoulders slumping. We looked after him with astonishment. I turned back to Cleo.
'The best man?' I said, remembering Hamish Hooter and Yetta Apatoff.
Then Cleo and I were giggling, leaning towards each other, our heads touching.
'Listen,' I said, 'can we leave as soon as possible?
There's so much I want to tell you.'
She looked at me steadily.
'Where do you want to go?' she asked.
'Woody's. It's open on Sundays. Good food. I know the woman who runs the place. We can have dinner and drinks in real glasses.'
'You're sure you want to go out with me?' she said, still looking into my eyes. She knew I had been afraid of being seen with her. Mutt and Jeff.
'Positive,' I said stoutly.
'I'd love to go to Woody's with you,' she said smiling.
I eased out the door, took my hat and coat, and waited for Cleo in the entrance hall. She came flying down a few moments later in a coat and tam and we set out.
It was a hard, brilliant day, flooded with sunshine. But the wind was gusting strongly, whipping our coats, tingling our cheeks. Cleo took my arm, and I looked nervously at passersby, watching for signs of amusement when they saw this tall, willowy woman with her runty escort.
But no one gave us a glance, and after a while I stopped 442
caring what people might think.
'I brought the kite home,' I told Cleo. 'And the string and winder.'
'Too windy today,' she said. 'But we'll fly it another day.'
'Sure we will,' I said.
We hung coats and hats on the rack just inside the door of Woody's. We waited a moment, and then Nitchy came towards us from the back dining room.
'Cleo,' I said, 'I'd like you to meet Nitchy, a good friend. Nitchy, meet Cleo.'
The two women shook hands. Nitchy looked up searchingly at Cleo's face. Then she turned to me, smiling.
She put a soft hand on my arm.
'At last!' she said.
