The Twilight Hour by Elizabeth Wilson

– not much idea how most people live. Take me. I left school at fourteen, left school on the Friday and started work on the Monday. My first job was with a landlord. My boss–’
    But we’d arrived. The cab drew into the kerb, Stanley paid, and we slid across the frozen pavement and into the Café Royal. I’d been there before, of course, but I had a feeling it was Colman’s first visit, although he appeared cool enough.
    â€˜I’m not really properly dressed,’ I said, aware of my shabby old black jumper and tweed skirt, but Stanley brushed that aside. ‘A fur coat is always good. And no one will notice once you’ve sat down.’
    We were shown to the room at the back. I sat beside him on the red velvet banquette. Stanley looked round, taking in the Edwardian opulence of the place, the cloudy gilt mirrors, the mahogany, overripe, yet at the same time faded. I watched the drinkers and diners. Even if they weren’t famous writers or artists, they acted and dressed as if they were. It was all so glamorous.
    Stanley ordered me a sherry, and as I sat beside him waiting for the others, I was happy and excited, my row with Alan forgotten. I looked round. ‘I say, look over there: there is Titus Mavor.’ I recognised him at once.
    Stanley looked across the room. ‘How convenient,’ he said with an enigmatic little smile. ‘Well then, when the others arrive, they can ask him to join us, can’t they? That’ll please Radu – and … well, depending on how he behaves it might settle the issue anyway.’
    I wished I hadn’t pointed him out. ‘Oh no, don’t let’s tell the others,’ I said quickly, ‘Colin’s so touchy about him – we don’t want another row. Let’s just hope they don’t notice him.’
    Stanley looked at me. ‘Not much chance of that, is there?’ He was right.

four

    I WAS ON MY SECOND SHERRY BY THE TIME Alan, Colin and Hugh arrived, having walked through the freezing streets from Green Park.
    â€˜Gwenny not with you?’ Stanley tried to sound casual.
    â€˜They should have been here by now,’ said Hugh, looking round as if expecting to find them behind a pillar. He caught sight of Mavor, stared sharply, but didn’t say anything. ‘They were taking a taxi – they’ll be along any moment.’
    The waiter came to our table with menus and a jug of water. By the time he returned some minutes later to take our order, Stanley was fidgety. ‘Where are they?’
    â€˜Let’s order anyway,’ said Alan. ‘What about roast beef followed by apple pie, Dinah?’ He beamed at me, my childish behaviour was forgiven, but he didn’t wait for me to reply. I agreed meekly, because although I’d wanted to choose for myself, I wasn’t going to risk another quarrel.
    When Radu and Gwendolen finally turned up it was with some story of their taxi running out of petrol. ‘And me in these shoes!’ Gwendolen gestured at her feet and we all stared at her elegant, silk-stockinged legs and high heels. She laughed, but I thought she was nervous, as she headed off to the ladies. We all laughed – a bit too loudly.
    My eyes flickered to where Titus Mavor sat at the opposite side of the restaurant. He had his arm round a girl with black hair in a bob with a fringe. He looked up at the loud burst of laughter. He’d seen us. I looked quickly away.
    The next thing I knew he was looming over our table, the girl dragged along with him, his arm still round her shoulders. ‘Well, look who’s here,’ he said, swaying slightly. I concentrated on the girl. She was wearing a red bouclé sweater with large wooden buttons marching diagonally across the bosom. Mavor looked more than ever like a cherub gone to seed.
    I realised that, drunk as Mavor was – as they both were, I think – they were waiting for me, the only woman