For Love Alone by Christina Stead

though. The last one was, too. Type is a sort of kismet, I often think.” She hummed for a moment and continued: “Ray had dark-blue shoes made of alternate strips of suede and kid with elastic insets and stilt heels of kid, which made her look very dainty and shortened her feet. It doesn’t pay to have a small last, as I have, size three, when the makers with all kinds of nifty tricks can make even girls with English feet look like thistledown. She was very dainty in every detail. It was truly pathetic the care the poor motherless girl had put into her toilette.”
    â€œAnother motherless girl?”
    â€œYes, isn’t that funny? They were well-matched, the attraction of opposites. He’s blond, like a perambulating door-mat, and she’s a lovely brunette. She carried a bouquet of dark red roses—”
    â€œReally?” cried Teresa.
    â€œYes, original, wasn’t it, and sweet for a bride, dark red for love. I thought it such a nice notion and a frank sentiment, you know. That’s the advantage of a girl without a family, she can do what she likes. Of course, I want Anne to have white on her wedding day, a girl looks so dazzling in white and I expect when the happy man sees this vision at his side, at the altar, he must wonder how he got her. I don’t even like rouge, for there is generally a natural flush which is most becoming, though a little lipstick against the ivory or dead white does no harm, but as little as possible, a mere touch. Ray’s bridesmaids had nasturtium, powder-blue—that was Anne, I made it myself—and fuchsia robes of the same material and the skirts were cut the same, though longer, which gave hera youthful look, and she has nice legs. The sleeves were shorter and summery, which lent her dignity you see, in the centre of the tableau. I was worried that Anne’s were too short, I love to show off Anne’s soft rounded arms, but it passed unobserved. I should be so happy to see Anne established in her own home, with her precious Mummy near her, looking after the material wants, while the young couple billed and cooed, as is only right, for the responsibilities come later.”
    Aunt Bea sighed. The fierce moonlight had now retired from the bed where she lay, and spotlighted the gathered ribbon garters which Anne had left lying on the window-sill. Anne herself was sitting on the other side of the window, her dim face looking towards the street. Mosquitoes buzzed, a gate clicked down the road, and someone called “Good night”.
    â€œIt must be getting late,” said Teresa.
    â€œOh, stay, idle-a-while,” Aunt Bea urged her; and looking at the ceiling, she continued her miraculous descriptions of weddings and feasts long past. She did not notice when her daughter stole from the room.
    â€œDo you want to get married, Terry darling?” asked Aunt Bea.
    â€œOh, yes, who doesn’t?”
    Aunt Bea sighed again. “Heigh-ho! Oh, Mother! It’s hard to get married nowadays. But you will, I know, Teresa, you always did know how to look out for yourself.”
    â€œI certainly will,” said Teresa.
    â€œSugar lump, where are you? Where’s Annette?” said Aunt Bea.
    â€œShe went out a minute ago. To the bathroom, I think.”
    â€œOh, yes, the stockings. Poor child, she too dreams of her wedding day and standing up at the altar with her own true knight, I expect, just as we all do or did. And there is the pleasure, the excitement, the pride of flashing a sparkler at your girl friends at the office.” She sighed, “I thought it would come before this, but there is time enough for the greatest event in a girl’s life. Malfi had such lovely presents, did you see them?”
    Aunt Bea then went on to a marvellously detailed description of Malfi’s presents whether in silver, china, ivory or linen. Of each she knew the origin and the cost and she knew the intentions of each giver. In the