Portrait Of A Lady

The knock came around 7 pm, just as the girls were settling down to study - or pretending to, at any rate. A heated kafuffle about who was to get off their ass and walk down the damn hall subsequently erupted and raged for several minutes. Eventually, the door was wrenched open to reveal a slight, delicate looking girl, possessing a small, fair face framed by loose blond strands.

She presently introduced herself as Pansy in a voice perfectly befitting her name - childishly pleasant and self-effacingly sweet, and as soft as the whisper of gossamer silks - then ventured tentatively that perhaps - just perhaps - she was lost and would Miss be so kind as to give her directions?

'I'm Jane,' the door opener rejoined brightly. 'And I'm sure you're at the right place - did Kath invite you?'

Pansy hesitated in indecision, alarmed by the other's bold affability. She swiftly returned that she was pleased to make Jane's acquaintance, the archaic greeting delivered with a demurely lowered head.

'Come in', Jane continued brightly. The wayward traveller, while anxious in the manner of a fairy, who, busy with her sparkle dust, had unconsciously misplaced her wings, entered the carpeted hallway with small, careful steps. She was clearly well-honed in the art of submissive passivity.

But once inside, her eyes widened to an extraordinary roundness. 'Your skirt,' Pansy blurted suddenly, her lashes twittering like a startled doe's. Immediately embarrassed at this incongruous interjectory, rosy colour flushed her cheeks.

Jane started. 'Yes - what's wrong with it?' She inspected her bare knees, seemingly without alarm.

'I hope I don't offend but it's so very improper...' Pansy choked out. 'Did you tear it by mistake? It is such a nuisance when one tears a good dress. Do take my shawl - it shall be large enough to conceal the tear...' She began to remove it from her shoulders, with nimbly practised movements.

Jane was mystified, as if by a rare historical artefact. 'Pansy...no it's alright, put your shawl back on, I won't be needing it....you need to get out more.' At that moment a tinny ditty emitted from a source nearby, startling Pansy with its proximity and abruptness. Jane scrambled about in her tote bag, rifling through the folders and scrunched pieces of paper. At last satisfied in her quest, she drew out a small, silver object with a screen and buttons. The noise had by now increased to an ear piercing volume, drawing an inadvertent shriek of distress from Pansy, who, to her credit, displayed considerable bravery by not shying away from the strange singing device.

'Haven't you seen a mobile phone before?' Jane asked exasperatedly, as she scanned the display. 'Hold on a sec. Hi Dad - I'm at the library.' She waved hurriedly at the gaggle of girls clustered around the coffee table; the laughing and clinking glasses subdued somewhat.

'Yeah - with a couple of people, we're studying for the Chemistry trial. Yeah. Love you too. Bye.' The object was fiddled with a while then tucked safely back into the bag - to Pansy's infinite relief - Jane, on other hand, was immediately accosted by an accusation.

'Why, Miss. Jane, you told your papa a mistruth,' Pansy cried. Noise-emitting gadget forgotten, her face now appeared painfully ashen.

Jane blinked once. 'Sorry?...And Jane will do.'

Pansy seemed positively scandalised, her little hands quivering in a distraught manner. 'You told him you were at the library!'

'Yeah...so?' The question was laced with slight bewilderment.

'I never lie to Papa,' Pansy avowed, her eyes so intensely earnest that Jane almost expected weeping doves to pour from the two ends of the corridor, as if to supplement her point. She angled one eyebrow incredulously, but was promptly taken aback by Pansy's docile sincerity. Perhaps the girl was Amish... 'Pansy, you really do have to get out more...see people, go places.'

The girl hurried on. 'Oh, but Papa - he so disapproves of strange people and places.'

Shaking her head in disbelief, Jane asked, 'Pansy - did you walk straight out of one of those BBC productions? Because you talk a little like that girl in Mansfield Park.'

'Forgive my ignorance - I don't understand, I'm not at all clever....' Pansy was singularly confused. Delicate as she was, Jane was a little afraid she might faint from the excitement of considering the question. 'You've never heard of the BBC - you know what, don't worry about it.' She patted the girl on the back consolingly and directed a question into the living room, booming with music from the stereo and teenager chatter. 'Hey Kath, did you invite Pansy?'

'Pansy...?' A plump girl lounging on the floor looked up from her magazine, baffled. Her glance raked the unassuming girl beside Jane. 'Friend of yours?'

Puzzled now, Jane turned to face Pansy. 'Never seen her before....Hey!' Faint from the constricting atmosphere, the new arrival had tottered and half slumped against the wall. Jane reached out to steady her, noting her pale complexion in genuine concern. 'Are you sure you're alright?'

'I - feel a little ill. The air stifles.' Pansy coughed delicately. The weakness permeated her limbs; she could hardly stand - the world seemed to spin around her, in a relentless blur of light and noise.

Jane peered closely at her. 'Yeah...you look sick. This isn't the place for you now, is it. Come on, I'll take you back to my place, it's only a short walk.' She had another, more selfish reason for departure - though she would have never admitted it, she did feel somewhat guilty about lying to her parents.

Biding the hostess a brief farewell, they took their leave of the stuffy living room. Pansy stumbled along uncertainly, her delicate evening shoes irreconcilable with any physical exertion, to the exception of ballroom dance; hampered ever more by her bulky skirts, she made excruciating progress. 'Where did you get that thing - it must weigh several hundred kilos,' Jane commented with awed commiseration, pausing so