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rich.’
    ‘I thought all that was over,’ said Antonia. ‘Anyway, a little thing like currency restrictions wouldn’t worry Calypso. My mother says she stuffs her bra with fivers. I admire her panache.’
    ‘She rather intimidates me,’ said Barbara. ‘Look, love, I must fly or I shall again be late at the grindstone. Oh! Do you suppose Matthew will make you change your mind?’
    ‘He might,’ said Antonia. ‘And what about James?’
    ‘Ah,’ said Barbara, ‘James—’
    ‘Their being such friends would be nice for us,’ said Antonia.
    ‘I am mulling it over,’ said Barbara.
    ‘Actually, between ourselves, I loathe earning my living,’ said Antonia.
    ‘Me too,’ said Barbara. ‘This early morning rush, coming home exhausted to unwashed breakfast things, ugh!’
    ‘It’s the parents who think independence and not marrying until we are mature will stop us messing up our lives. I can’t see any compensations in honest toil,’ said Antonia.
    ‘You’re going to be late. I’m going to be late,’ cried Barbara. ‘See you at the weekend, then. Oh! Do you suppose we shall be allowed to meet the mystery wife?’
    ‘I rather gathered that was the idea,’ said Antonia. ‘That’s why I’m coming. What shall you wear? Got anything new I can borrow? I’ll lend you my blue—’
    ‘We are late, we’ll get the sack—’ Barbara rang off.
    Antonia Lowther checked the contents of her bag and, slamming the door, raced out into the street. Hurrying towards the tube she wondered, not for the first time since she had set up on her own in a one-room flatlet, whether earning her keep and indulging in independence was the rosy experience her parents had envisaged for her. One week in her job had undeceived her as to the interest of work; an occupation such as hers would be dull if her bosses dealt in diamonds or international art. The fact that the company of which she was a minute cog dealt in oil was of little import. Typing and filing was typing and filing, and making tea was exactly that; she was unqualified for anything better.
    There was no question of returning to the comforts of home, much as she missed the automatic meals, free laundry, bath soap, shampoo, lavatory paper, postage stamps, and messages noted by her mother or the daily lady; there was no going back. Her mother, Antonia knew, had with the connivance of her father eased her out.
    My mother, thought Antonia, descending the steps of South Kensington tube station, would make a far better secretary than I ever shall. My mother, she thought as she elbowed an old woman aside at the ticket office, has taught herself to be efficient. It is the only protection she has from Father. My mother, Antonia told herself as she scampered onto the platform in time to miss a departing train, should have left Father years ago. She does not stay with him for the sake of us children, but because she deludes herself that he loves her.
    How can she? Antonia asked herself. I cannot bear, Antonia thought as she felt the warm draught of an oncoming train seep up her skirt, I cannot bear the way he treats her. Considerate and thoughtful in public, offensive and rude in private.
    The train doors slid open and she squeezed in among the strap-hanging bodies. Among the swaying bodies Antonia enumerated the remarks her father voiced in the privacy of home. His references to a crepey neck, greying hair, double chin, veiny legs and yellowing teeth make me sick, she thought. The remarks about teeth are particularly vile.
    His teeth glisten whitely since the accident Mother is never allowed to forget, thought Antonia, as she swayed with the crowd. Mother would not have been driving if he had not had so many drinks; it is when he has had a few drinks that he says these hurtful things. I, Antonia swore to herself, shall never allow myself to have too many drinks and endanger my marital relations.
    Curse this brute, she muttered to herself as she tried to edge away from a