picture so frightfully that she acquired steadiness from heaven knew what emergency store. But her mouth, her fingertips, every part of her it seemed, felt swollen and aching.
The final two-hour bell whirred. While Garda was lifting the magenta wrap to her shoulders, the crew-out bluntnosed blond who had worked all but at her elbow put a foot on the platform's edge and said confidently, "How's about a beer with me, beautiful, and I'll drive you home."
From her detached model's face, not yet human, Garda said without tone, "Thanks, I'm doing something else," and walked off while she said it. A few good-natured jeers were levelled at the boy as the class noisily packed up and began to leave. Van dawdled, waiting for Garda to dress. Because tonight she was going to walk out with her, to the gate at least, no matter what it was the girl was doing after.
She was still cleaning brushes when the curtains opened and Garda walked out in jeans and a suede car coat. Van opened her mouth to call out but no voice came, and the other girl, smiling from only the slate-blue eyes, strode out into the corridor alone. Now Van made a disgraceful scrambled sweep of her easel-shelf and bundled the mess into her locker; shot her canvas into the drying rack with a prayer, and mopped her hands with a turpentined handkerchief as she ran. Even so the corridor was empty, and she began to sprint, praying to overtake Garda outside before a bus came, But the girl was not in sight on the terraces, not in the little huddle waiting under the street light. ...Someone must have called for her in a car.
Frustrated and frantic, Van started on the downhill walk along the ornate fence, so tired now that she felt literally sick. And so emptily famished, but not for food, that getting home to her drab room just couldn't be faced. If she bought some sort of liquor and drank herself blind? Then 'sick' tomorrow would be no lie to phone the office in the morning. But money...and such an endless walk to buy the drink...and facing Mag in the morning...Without
(Continued on page 18)
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