Svetka thought about it.
I looked around. I couldn’t see anyone I knew. There were five minutes left until the show started. Svetka was taking her time over the lemonade. She hadn’t touched the cake.
Her answer came tumbling out.
“Let’s go. As friends, of course. I’m not the kind of girl who’d go otherwise. And a woman came to see you while you were away. A pretty one. Well, not that pretty, but not bad. Nicely dressed. Open-toed shoes and little socks. And a handbag. Shameless red hair. You could tell right away she was a bad lot. Kept on and on asking, over and over again: when, when, when, on and on. I answered her in riddles on purpose. Bold as brass, she was.” Svetka looked at me fixedly. “She accused me of being rude to the public. But she was banging her head against a brick wall
