The house was quiet, stuffy in the summer heat, as if it had been closed all day. She walked into the kitchen, spotted a note on the table. Dear Betty. How dare you behave like that to me? She breathed in sharply. Until I receive an apology, I neither want to speak to you nor see you. I have never experienced such ingratitude… Breathed out. The effrontery of the man, the insensitivity, the sheer, bloody stuffed-up Prussian arrogance of the man. She screwed the note up, hurled it across the room, where it bounced against the side of the sink and tumbled to the floor. Well, he needn’t see her. The feeling was mutual.

She stomped upstairs, yanked a couple of suitcases from the top of the cupboard in the box room and dragged them into her bedroom. She pulled the sheets off her bed, folded them roughly, placed them in a pile. She didn’t have many clothes, but she was damned if she was leaving them here. Shoes, nylons, underwear. Skirts, blouses, jumpers. Dresses, swimsuit, towels. Books. Her books. She laid them on top, shoving them in, wrenching the suitcases shut. She left the tutu with the sequined straps. He could have that, serve him right. Her lips twitched. The press of his thumb as he wiped the lipstick away.

They were too heavy to carry so she bumped them down the stairs, chipping the wainscoting. Tough. Luck. She’d have to get a taxi. Her father kept a cash box in the kitchen cupboard. The bastard could pay. She took out a ten-shilling note, went into the hall, rang the taxi number. Eight minutes. Perfect.

She supposed she should leave her father a message but not tell him where she was. The crumpled note was on the floor so she picked it up, smoothed it out. Mrs H has very kindly asked me over for dinner, he’d written, and to go on an outing with her tomorrow (Sunday). If you wish to say sorry, you know where I am. No, she wanted to write, I do not wish to say sorry. She grabbed the pen that he’d left on the table. I have moved out, so you never need to see or speak to me ever again until you apologise to me. He knew where she worked, so he could send his apology there. She underlined you and me so there was no mistake. The taxi sounded its horn. She should have added, I hope you and Mrs H are happy. You deserve each other, but there wasn’t time and she wasn’t sure her father would understand the irony.

§

Even with the pair of them dragging the cases, it had been a struggle to get up and down the stairs in the station, then the Underground, changing platforms and what have you.