Small g by Patricia Highsmith Page A

dancing, turning in a circle.
    On his far left, he saw Renate staring at him and Lulu as if frozen. Hadn’t she as yet noticed that her darling was with a boy? Rickie was in the center of the dance floor, humming, swaying to the samba. He could feel that Lulu was in her element, with the crowd pointing her out, laughing.
    “What the well-dressed homo is wearing this year!” Rickie said to a smiling couple. “His dog!”
    Luisa surely knew that Renate had arrived. Rickie imagined an osmosis between them, an unhealthy symbiosis, if that was the word.
    Seconds later, it was all over, that song, that dance. Rickie saw Georg shake his head at an offer from a gay man to dance. He was back at the table with a seat now, as was Georg, because a couple of people had left.
    “Don’t you have to go sit with Renate?” Rickie asked Luisa. “But how nice if you don’t !”
    “Oh, she’ll say something,” Luisa replied. “But I don’t know why after all day . . .” Some words were drowned out by noise. “. . . all evening too!”
    “Who is this Renate?” Georg asked, frowning.
    “She is—a couturiere,” Rickie said, “and Luisa is employed by her. Renate comes here to observe—and snoop and criticize people like you and me. Everybody!”
    “Employs Luisa?”
    “She employs four girls. They sew clothes—” Rickie suddenly burst out laughing. Renate seemed funny just then, though he couldn’t have explained why if his life depended on it.
    At least Georg was smiling at him now.
    The boy had stopped glancing behind him, perhaps stopped worrying. It was past midnight, and would Georg really take a taxi or— And here came Willi in his drab clothes and brimmed hat, like a dark cloud, edging his way round the dancers. He came from Renate’s direction. The messenger! Bringer of bad tidings!
    “Willi!” Rickie still stood with the draped Lulu. “Some unpleasant news? You want Luisa? Right there! Ha-ha! We are feeling very merry tonight!”
    Willi’s long face under the old hat did not change. He bent and said something to Luisa, then slunk away. The rest of the table might not have existed for Willi.
    “What’s all that?” Rickie asked.
    “Renate’s leaving. Wants me to come with her,” Luisa said to Rickie.
    “You’ve got your own key, haven’t you?”
    “Oh, she’ll double-lock it. Anything to—” Luisa looked embarrassed at having said this much. “It can be unpleasant,” she finished with a forced smile.
    “You are welcome at my house,” Rickie said.
    Then Luisa gave a lovely, amused smile that showed her pretty teeth, clear brow, and calm brown eyes. Georg was watching her. Luisa got up, holding her little bills, looking at them. “Nine forty.” She had a small handbag, but reached in a trouser pocket.
    “Oh no!” said Rickie. “Leave that!”
    “Don’t worry, don’t worry.” Georg pulled out a ten-franc note which he dropped on the table. “Can I walk you home?”
    “Best not,” said Luisa. “But thank you, Teddie. And thanks, Rickie.”
    “Old witch would bite your head off!” said Rickie to Georg, now Teddie. “I’ll see you to Renate.”
    Rickie did, led the way for Luisa between tables and dancers toward the old witch’s table. Lulu kept her calm on his shoulders, her eyes on a level higher than his.
    “Look at Lulu !” someone yelled.
    “Good evening,” Rickie said politely, bowing as much as Lulu permitted.
    Renate, elegant in probably real gold earrings, slender necklace, the shocking-pink blouse and a satin skirt—long, of course—did not remove the cigarette holder from her mouth. She stood up, ignoring Rickie neatly, he realized, and shuffled her way round the corner of the table. Willi Biber stood at the table end nearer the bar and the door, without the wit to pull the table a little way toward him to assist Renate in getting out.
    “ Bonne nuit ,” said Rickie sweetly to Renate. “ Und schönen Sonntag! ”
    Pretending he was invisible, Rickie supposed,