Quartet in Autumn

by Barbara Pym

If she had thought of making herself known to him, the time and such questions as ‘Do you come here often?’ were obviously inappropriate. Norman had not revealed to any of them that he visited the British Museum, and even if he had would never have admitted to the contemplation of mummified crocodiles. No doubt it was a secret thing.

Marcia had so far contributed nothing to the discussion for there was a fear in her mind, even if it was not a very strong one, that she might have to offer Letty a room in her house. After all, Letty had always been kind to her; she had once offered to make her a cup of tea before going home, and even though the offer had not been accepted it had not been forgotten. But this did not mean that Marcia was under any obligation to provide accommodation for Letty in her retirement. For of course it would be impossible – she couldn’t have anybody else living in her house. Two women could never share the same kitchen, she told herself, forgetting for the moment that she never really used the kitchen except to boil a kettle or make a piece of toast. Then there would be the difficulty of the store cupboard where Marcia kept her collection of tinned foods, and the special and rather unusual arrangement she had about milk bottles, not to mention the use of the bathroom and the arrangement of personal washing – the difficulties were insuperable. Women alone had to make their own way in the world and no doubt Letty already knew this. And if she couldn’t cope there would be somebody like Janice Brabner coming round, asking personal questions, making stupid suggestions and inviting her to do things she didn’t want to do. It certainly wasn’t Marcia’s duty to offer a home to Letty, just because she had a house of her own and lived by herself. Indignation welled up inside her, and she aske...