name of her own child; “Lesley” she pronounces it. This Australian speech is very bizarre.’
‘Yes, not the English I should care to hear my own children speak I must say,’ said Rudi.
‘Which is an imminent problem,’ said Stefan to Magda. ‘Rudi here has been telling me that he wishes to marry.’
‘Of course you do,’ said Magda, ‘why not? But all in good time. At the moment you are still looking for a girlfriend, not to mention a fl at.’
‘To tell you the truth,’ said Rudi, ‘I am looking for a girlfriend suitable for elevation to the position of wife. I wish to marry soon. I am tired of the junket of girlfriends: I want to settle down.’
‘I can’t think of a single one of our friends who is the right age, or who has a daughter of the right age either,’ said Magda. ‘You may have to arrange this matter yourself, God knows how.’
‘I am not fussy,’ said Rudi.
‘No, you will only want a beauty, less than thirty years old, cultivated, if not also rich; it should be quite easy,’ said Stefan.
‘Certainly I want a beauty,’ said Rudi, ‘the age is less important. Cultivated—well—I have heard that there is such a thing—’ ‘What do you take us for?’ said Stefan. ‘Naturally we are cultivated, we reffos, we are famous for it, or rather notorious, it is one of our most despicable qualities.’
‘Oh, you have misunderstood me!’ said Rudi. ‘I am not looking for a reffo; I have decided to marry an Australian.’
‘You must be mad!’ cried Magda. ‘What do you imagine she will want with you? An Australian. The cultivated ones are anyway all either married, or else they have gone away.’
‘Gone away?’ asked Rudi. ‘Where have they gone?’
‘They go away to London, sometimes Paris or even Rome,’ said Stefan. ‘You will hardly ever find one here; if you do she is saving her fare to London, I can guarantee it.’
‘Well then,’ said Rudi, ‘I will take an uncultivated one and cultivate her myself. I should enjoy that.’
‘Psssht,’ said Magda. ‘Leave the poor girl alone. She is happy as she is.’
‘Do you really think so Magda?’ asked Rudi. ‘Be honest. Did you ever see such—’ ‘As a matter of fact, no,’ said Magda. ‘I am afraid you are quite right. Very well, you wish to meet an Australian, uncultivated, you will make her happy, or happier, perhaps cultivated too. It is all quite simple.’
‘A nice, strong, healthy Australian girl. Some of them are very beautiful,’ said Rudi. ‘Haven’t you noticed? That is what I would like.’
Stefan laughed.
‘Oddly enough,’ he said, ‘we know no one of this description, no one at all.’
‘This is true,’ agreed Magda.
And then she was struck by a thought.
‘As a matter of fact,’ she said, ‘this is not true. I do know such a one. She is about thirty or less, she is not quite beautiful, but not bad, her maquillage is terrible of course and she has no style, but she is strong and healthy as far as one can see, and now I think about it I must say she has by no means the air of a woman in love.’
‘I am very desirous of meeting her,’ said Rudi. ‘Do please arrange it.’
‘I’ll see,’ said Magda. ‘I do not know whether you deserve her. I’ll see. Now, shall we go to see a film, or not? Let us decide.’
And they began to argue the pros and cons of the available films, and the chamber music programme, as the darkness swiftly fell.
25
It was almost six o’clock when Lisa at last reached home. She burst through the back door, still glittering with the elation of the afternoon, to find her mother standing at the sink peeling potatoes.
‘Hello Mum!’ she cried. ‘Look!’ and she smiled like a film star and whirled around on the spot.
Her mother regarded her with a face like a hot-cross bun.
‘I should think I would just look!’ she said. ‘I should think I would. Now perhaps you’ll tell me what on earth you’ve been up to. I’ve had a telephone call from
‘Yes, not the English I should care to hear my own children speak I must say,’ said Rudi.
‘Which is an imminent problem,’ said Stefan to Magda. ‘Rudi here has been telling me that he wishes to marry.’
‘Of course you do,’ said Magda, ‘why not? But all in good time. At the moment you are still looking for a girlfriend, not to mention a fl at.’
‘To tell you the truth,’ said Rudi, ‘I am looking for a girlfriend suitable for elevation to the position of wife. I wish to marry soon. I am tired of the junket of girlfriends: I want to settle down.’
‘I can’t think of a single one of our friends who is the right age, or who has a daughter of the right age either,’ said Magda. ‘You may have to arrange this matter yourself, God knows how.’
‘I am not fussy,’ said Rudi.
‘No, you will only want a beauty, less than thirty years old, cultivated, if not also rich; it should be quite easy,’ said Stefan.
‘Certainly I want a beauty,’ said Rudi, ‘the age is less important. Cultivated—well—I have heard that there is such a thing—’ ‘What do you take us for?’ said Stefan. ‘Naturally we are cultivated, we reffos, we are famous for it, or rather notorious, it is one of our most despicable qualities.’
‘Oh, you have misunderstood me!’ said Rudi. ‘I am not looking for a reffo; I have decided to marry an Australian.’
‘You must be mad!’ cried Magda. ‘What do you imagine she will want with you? An Australian. The cultivated ones are anyway all either married, or else they have gone away.’
‘Gone away?’ asked Rudi. ‘Where have they gone?’
‘They go away to London, sometimes Paris or even Rome,’ said Stefan. ‘You will hardly ever find one here; if you do she is saving her fare to London, I can guarantee it.’
‘Well then,’ said Rudi, ‘I will take an uncultivated one and cultivate her myself. I should enjoy that.’
‘Psssht,’ said Magda. ‘Leave the poor girl alone. She is happy as she is.’
‘Do you really think so Magda?’ asked Rudi. ‘Be honest. Did you ever see such—’ ‘As a matter of fact, no,’ said Magda. ‘I am afraid you are quite right. Very well, you wish to meet an Australian, uncultivated, you will make her happy, or happier, perhaps cultivated too. It is all quite simple.’
‘A nice, strong, healthy Australian girl. Some of them are very beautiful,’ said Rudi. ‘Haven’t you noticed? That is what I would like.’
Stefan laughed.
‘Oddly enough,’ he said, ‘we know no one of this description, no one at all.’
‘This is true,’ agreed Magda.
And then she was struck by a thought.
‘As a matter of fact,’ she said, ‘this is not true. I do know such a one. She is about thirty or less, she is not quite beautiful, but not bad, her maquillage is terrible of course and she has no style, but she is strong and healthy as far as one can see, and now I think about it I must say she has by no means the air of a woman in love.’
‘I am very desirous of meeting her,’ said Rudi. ‘Do please arrange it.’
‘I’ll see,’ said Magda. ‘I do not know whether you deserve her. I’ll see. Now, shall we go to see a film, or not? Let us decide.’
And they began to argue the pros and cons of the available films, and the chamber music programme, as the darkness swiftly fell.
25
It was almost six o’clock when Lisa at last reached home. She burst through the back door, still glittering with the elation of the afternoon, to find her mother standing at the sink peeling potatoes.
‘Hello Mum!’ she cried. ‘Look!’ and she smiled like a film star and whirled around on the spot.
Her mother regarded her with a face like a hot-cross bun.
‘I should think I would just look!’ she said. ‘I should think I would. Now perhaps you’ll tell me what on earth you’ve been up to. I’ve had a telephone call from
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