What became of us

marvellous excuse to be in touch with him all the time.’
    ‘Oh!’ Manon’s first thought was of the little girls, and then of Leonora trilling by the pigeonholes all that time ago. She couldn’t imagine now how she had forgotten her.
    ‘And what does Roy think about that?’ she asked.
    ‘Oh, I haven’t told Roy. It’s just not the sort of thing a man would notice, is it? I don’t suppose he has any idea that he’s quite an attractive proposition for all these single thirty-somethings that seem to be around.’
    ‘And the girls?’
    ‘You’d probably know better than me,’ Ursula said, giving her a long look. ‘I gather that you see quite a lot of them.’ She stopped walking suddenly and turned to face Manon. ‘I want to say how grateful I am...’
    Manon didn’t know what to say. It hadn’t occurred to her that Ursula knew anything about her life now, and there was no reason for her to be grateful. She wasn’t doing it for her.
    ‘...you see, it is difficult for me because it is a long way and with the best will in the world, I’ve got three of my own,’ Ursula continued.
    ‘Yes, of course,’ Manon interrupted. She didn’t have the kind of friendship with Ursula that merited excuses and explanations. She did not know what to say to her. ‘I enjoy seeing them,’ she faltered.
    They began to walk again in silence.
    ‘You haven’t ever wanted some yourself?’ Ursula asked, pushing further at the boundaries of their relationship.
    ‘No,’ Manon said quickly. Too quickly.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ Ursula said, ‘I shouldn’t be so nosy...’
    Manon said nothing.

    Annie appeared at the entrance to the college lodge holding three croquet mallets over her shoulder like muskets.
    ‘Bagsy the red ball,’ she said, ‘because it matches my outfit.’
    Ursula stopped in the lodge to get the key for her room from the porter while Manon and Annie wandered into the quad.
    ‘The smell by the pigeonholes is exactly the same as it was,’ Ursula shouted, running to catch up with them. ‘I’ve just had a Proustian memory of college life.’
    ‘What smell?’ Annie asked.
    ‘Oh, it’s a sort of combination of dust and slightly unwashed femininity,’ Ursula said.
    ‘Ugh!’ said Annie, ‘I thought Proustian memories were meant to be of biscuits or something nice.’
    The croquet hoops were already laid out.
    ‘I’m going to dump my bag in my room,’ Ursula told them. ‘I’m in the new building,’ she said, excitedly.
    ‘Bully for you,’ Annie said, ‘but we’re not going to wait here while you recapture your lost youth. You’ll just have to catch up with us when you come down. Be quick!’
    Annie looked at Manon. ‘You go first,’ she commanded.
    Manon hit the yellow ball. It reached the first rung but did not go through.
    ‘Shot!’ called Annie. ‘God, I can’t remember the rules. If I hit you through, can I roquet you or not?’
    ‘I’ve no idea,’ said Manon.
    ‘Well, shall we say I can, if I do?’
    ‘OK.’ Manon smiled.
    It was typical of Annie to want to make the rules to her advantage, but she was so brazen about it, you couldn’t help going along with her. The champagne seemed to have made her more competitive than ever. In the sun, her face was almost as red as her dress.
    Annie swung wildly at her ball. It veered off the lawn into a border of flowers. ‘It’s no fun with just two, is it?’ she said, quixotically. Then suddenly sitting down on the grass, ‘Let’s wait for Ursula.’ Manon sat down next to her.
    The college quad was exactly as she remembered it, except that the building Ursula had disappeared into had been part of the garden then. She watched a tortoiseshell butterfly flit from a rose bush to a yellow dahlia.
    ‘Shall I tell you a secret,’ Annie said suddenly.
    ‘If you want to.’ Manon wondered uncomfortably whether Annie would have wanted to reveal what she was about to if she hadn’t drunk so much.
    ‘I’ve decided to have a go at Roy. Do you think that’s terrible?’
    ‘No,’ said Manon, cautiously.
    ‘For God’s sake, don’t tell Ursula,’ Annie hissed, looking behind her to see that no-one was in earshot. The quad was empty and silent.
    ‘I won’t.’
    ‘It would be so perfect, don’t you think? I mean, without being too crass about it, I’ve got money, he’s got a ready-made family...’
    What would count as too crass? Manon wondered.
    ‘...we’re both old enough and wise enough not to fuck each other up. I