agreed gravely. ‘A splendid drink for such an occasion,’ and he refilled her glass, observing prudently, ‘I’ll take the tray in for you.’
The champagne was having an effect upon her empty insides. She gave him a wide smile. ‘The best man— what’s his name, Peter?—said he’d be back…’
‘He will be refilling glasses.’ The Professor picked up the tray, opened the door and ushered her out of the kitchen.
Julia swanned around, light-headed and lighthearted. It was marvellous what a couple of glasses of champagne did to one. She ate a sausage roll, drank another glass of champagne, handed round the sandwiches and would have had another glass of champagne if the Professor hadn’t taken the glass from her.
‘They’re going to cut the cake,’ he told her, ‘and then we’ll toast the happy couple.’Only then did he hand her back her glass.
After Ruth and Thomas had driven away, and everyone else was going home, she realised that the Professor had gone too, taking the best man with him.
‘He asked me to say goodbye,’ said Monica as the pair of them sat at the kitchen table, their shoes off, drinking strong tea. ‘He took the best man with him, said he was rather pressed for time.’
Julia, still pleasantly muzzy from the champagne, wondered why it was that the best man had had the time to say goodbye to her. If he’d gone with the Professor, then surely the Professor could have found the time to do the same? She would think about that when her head was a little clearer.
Life had to be reorganised now that Ruth had left home; they missed her share of the housekeeping, but by dint of economising they managed very well.
Until, a few weeks later, Monica came into the house like a whirlwind, calling to Julia to come quickly; she had news.
George had been offered a parish; a small rural town in the West country. ‘Miles from anywhere,’ said Monica, glowing with happiness, ‘but thriving. Not more than a large village, I suppose, but very scattered. He’s to go there this week and see if he likes it.’
‘And if he does?’
‘He’ll go there in two weeks’ time. I’ll go with him, of course. We can get married by special licence first.’ Then she danced round the room. ‘Oh, Julia, isn’t it all marvellous? I’m so happy…!’
It wasn’t until later, after they had toasted the future in a bottle of wine from the supermarket, that Monica said worriedly, ‘Julia, what about you? What will you do? You’ll never be able to manage…’
Julia had had time to have an answer ready. She said cheerfully, ‘I shall take in lodgers until we decide what to do about this house. You and Ruth will probably like to sell it, and I think that is a good thing.’
‘But you?’ persisted Monica.
‘I shall go to dressmaking classes and then set up on my own. I shall like that.’
‘You don’t think Oscar will come back? If he really loved you…?’
‘But he didn’t, and I wouldn’t go near him with a bargepole—whatever that means.’
‘But you’ll marry…?’
‘Oh, I expect so. And think how pleased my husband will be to have a wife who makes her own clothes.’
Julia poured the last of the wine into their glasses. ‘Now tell me your plans…’
She listened to her sister’s excited voice, making suitable comments from time to time, making suggestions, and all the while refusing to give way to the feeling of panic. So silly, she told herself sternly; she had a roof over her head for the time being, and she was perfectly able to reorganise her life. She wouldn’t be lonely; she would have lodgers and Muffin…
‘You’ll marry from here?’ she asked.
‘Yes, but very quietly. We’ll go straight to the parish after the wedding. There’ll be just us and Ruth—and Thomas, if he can get away. No wedding breakfast or anything.’ Monica laughed. ‘I always wanted a big wedding, you know—white chiffon and a veil and bridesmaids—but none of that matters. It’ll have to be early in the morning.’
Monica’s lovely face glowed with happiness, and Julia said, ‘Aren’t you dying to hear what the vicarage is like? And the little town?You’ll be a marvellous vicar’s wife.’
‘Yes, I think I shall,’ said Monica complacently.
Presently she said uncertainly, ‘Are you sure you’ll be all right, Julia? There has always been the three of us…’
‘Of course I’ll be fine—and how super that I’ll be able to visit you. Once I get started I can get a little car…’
Which was daydreaming with a vengeance, but served to pacify Monica.
After that events crowded upon each other at a great rate. George found his new appointment very much to his liking; moreover, he had been accepted by the church wardens and those of the parish whom he had met with every sign of satisfaction. The vicarage was large and old-fashioned, but there was a lovely garden… He was indeed to take up his appointment in two weeks’ time, which gave them just that time to arrange their wedding—a very quiet one, quieter even than Ruth’s and Thomas’s, for they were to marry in the early morning and drive straight down to their new home.
Julia, helping Monica to pack, had little time to think about anything else, but was relieved that the girl who was to take over Monica’s job had rented a room with her: a good omen for the future, she told her sisters cheerfully. Trudie seemed a nice girl, too, quiet and studious, and it would be nice to have someone else in the house, and nicer still to have the rent money…
She would have to find another lodger, thought Julia, waving goodbye to George’s elderly car and the newly married pair. If she could let two rooms she would be able to manage if she added the rent to the small amounts she got from the greetings card firm. Later on, she quite understood, Ruth and Monica would want to sell the house, and with her own share she would start some kind of a career…
She went back into the empty house; Trudie would be moving in on the following morning and she must make sure that her room was as welcoming as possible. As soon as she had a second lodger and things were running smoothly, she would pay a visit to Ruth.
A week went by. It was disappointing that there had been no replies to her advertisement; she would have to try again in a week or so, and put cards in the windows of the row of rather seedy shops a few streets away. In the meantime she would double her output of verses.
Trudie had settled in nicely, coming and going quietly, letting herself in and out with the key Julia had given her. Another one like her would be ideal, reflected Julia, picking up the post from the doormat.
There was a letter from the greetings card firm and she opened it quickly; there would be a cheque inside. There was, but there was a letter too. The firm was changing its policy: in future they would deal only with cards of a humorous nature since that was what the market demanded. It was with regret that they would no longer be able to accept her work. If she had a batch ready to send then they would accept it, but nothing further.
Julia read the letter again, just
