"You're bloody right there."

"Leave it then."

"I can't, with your friends coming."

"Coming, yeah," said Terry. He looked back at Ruth and smiled in a slow enticing way. "Like to stay for the party?"

Julie said, "That's not a very good idea."

"Yes," said Terry, "yes, it is."

"I'm sure," said Julie, "Ruth has to get on to her Mrs. Watt."

"But she doesn't know anymore where Mrs. Watt is."

"She could phone her. Couldn't you, Ruth?"

"I don't have a telephone number," said Ruth.

Julie said, "Isn't that a bit odd?"

Terry shook his head at Ruth.

"Don't worry about Julie. She'll come around."

"I could get the phone book. We could look it up," said Julie briskly.

But Ruth said, not flurried: "They had to have it changed."

Terry made more coffee, and Julie turned on the Hoover. She went around the room, moving furniture, and then around Ruth, who did not move, simply lifting her feet off the ground until the appliance had passed. Then Julie did the stairs, banging quite a lot, and dragged the Hoover off into the bedroom and the upstairs room Terry called his Lair. It was a tiny place he had managed to fill with shed clothes, half-made model airplanes, paperback thrillers, and empty beer cans. Sometimes Terry also wrote short pieces of fiction in here. Julie had admired this talent when first they met, but now she did not bother with what Terry wrote. Squashed in the corner was a camp bed. That would need to be made up, too.

Julie cleaned the bathroom, managing to knock all the toothbrushes and makeup off the shelf under the mirror.

Terry must be mad to ask this girl to stay tonight.

They had agreed, months ago, that it was just as well to play safe. They had their regular friends. But what did they know about this Ruth?

How trustworthy was Terry? There was that girl at his office, Sherry, and perhaps—

Julie did the beds.

When she came down, Terry was still holding forth to Ruth, and Ruth still listening, sitting composed in a black T-shirt and jeans on the two-seater settee. Terry sat on the floor by the electric fire and his mug had made a wet ring on the top of the surround. There were biscuit crumbs on the carpet.

While Julie washed up, Terry went out to get some wine and cans of Carlsberg Special Brew.

The cat appeared at the kitchen door, and Julie let it in.

"I suppose I've got to feed you now."

She opened a can of cat food and put it down.

The cat approached the food, and ate, standing up, tail laid flat to the floor as if to earth itself.

Ruth came into the doorway of the kitchen.

"You have a cat."

"Cat? Yes."