Strange Women, The by Miriam Gardner Page A

turned before getting out. "Want a drink or something?" he asked suggestively.
    Nora hesitated, knowing she walked along a knife-edge which would alter her future. But before she managed to speak he reached for his bag.
    "Not on an empty stomach, huh? You might lose control and rape me, and I'm too tired to fight you off. Okay, Nora." He gave her shoulder a quick pat as he got out. "You won't have any more trouble from this quarter. I hope Ellersen deserves what he's getting. If he doesn't, damn it, he'll have a fist fight on his hands." He went quickly up the steps without looking back, and Nora was not sure whether she looked after him with relief-or regret.
    * * *
    Her own apartment was dark and empty and a little too hot. Nora said "Jill?" switched on the light and went startled, from room to room. The cat mewed in the kitchen, and Nora went and picked him up.
    Oh come, she told herself , this is ridiculous, Jill doesn't have to tell you when she's going out.
    She lighted the oven, made a salad, carefully laid a single place; but though she was hungry after her sketchy lunch, she found she had no appetite.
    Careless for once of the polished and waxed floor, she handed a generous morsel of ham down to Archy, watching him bat it back and forth with languid grace,
    "Are you frustrated, Archy? Do you wish you could go out tom-catting in alleys?" she asked aloud. You old maid. Talking to a cat.
    The silence was oppressive, and she found herself turning over in her mind words that had to be said between herself and Jill.
    Jill, about the other night…
    Jill, we were both upset, I acted like an idiot…
    Jill, you know perfectly well I'm no lesbian…
    The word had finally escaped her. Lesbian. Was Pammy's father right after all? Am I the sort of person who goes around corrupting little girls?
    The hall door banged; Jill came through to the kitchen, wind-flushed, arms full of packages. "Is there some coffee left? Oh, good." She got herself a cup.
    "Why didn't you have supper before you left, Jill? Everything was all ready. Next time I'm late, do have a proper meal, I might be out all night."
    "I wasn't hungry." Jill paused, cup in mid-air. "And if you tell me I'm eating for two, I'll throw my cup at you."
    Later in the bedroom she watched Jill unwrap her packages. "I thought you didn't wear brassieres," she said idly.
    "I don't, but now I think I should."
    "What's this? Lace panties?"
    Jill spread them on the bed. "Sinful britches."
    “Wha-at?"
    "Family jo ke. One Christmas—I was about fifteen—Pam gave me a set of black lace underwear, very flimsy and naughty-looking. Mama said it was in very poor taste for young girls, but I think Pam meant it as a joke. She was always like that. You know."
    Nora positively had to remind herself that Jill could not read her mind.
    "Great-aunt Harriet was shocked. Not just disapproving Mama, but—oh, horrified, as if—as if—"
    "As if she expected you to do a Gypsy Rose Lee in them?”
    “I guess. Jackie asked why it was indecent if nobody ever saw it. After all, nobody sees your underwear, and Jackie said black lace was just the same as flannel bloomers." Jill giggled again, mimicking a thin, rasping old voice. "A nice young girl who wears fantastical underclothing is always looking for an excuse to display it. Unbecoming undergarments are the surest guarantee of modesty."
    "Oh, no, Jill!"
    "Oh, yes, Nor! So every time I wore them, Pammy asked if I could be good in my sinful britches."
    "Jill, where is Pammy living now?"
    Jill dropped the "sinful britches," startled. "Why, Nora, Pammy's dead. Didn't you know?"
    "Oh, no, Jill, I never heard anything. What—how—"
    "She died in childbirth. She married Ken Rainsbury and she lost the baby and she died."
    "No, I never knew. I'm so sorry!" She had thought of Pamela living and warm, surrounded by hearty children. It had seemed necessary to think of her that way. She was too shocked and distressed to speak.
    After her bath, toweling her