offered her his chair near the fire. 'I am so glad you could make it,'he replied in English.
She looked perplexed for a moment, then, in English, she said, 'I'm sorry I'm late!
'Oh, I hadnt noticed. Would you like somet1ting to drink, Zaphia?'
'No, thank you.'
Neither of them spoke for a moment, and then they both tried to talk at once.
'I'd forgotten how pretty. . .'said Abel.
'How have you.. .'said Zaphia.
She smiled shyly, and Abel wanted to touch her. He remembered so well experiencing the same reaction the first time he had ever seen her, over eight years before.
'How's George?' she asked.
'I haven't seen him for over two years,' replied Abel, suddenly feeling guilty. 'I've been stuck working in a hotel here in Chicago, and then.
. .'
'I know,' said Zaphia. 'Somebody burnt the place down!
'Why didn't you ever come over and say hello?' asked Abel.
'I didn't think you'd remember, Wladek, and I was right.'
'Then how did you ever recognise me?' said AbeL 'I've put on so much weight.'
'The silver band,'she said simply.
Abel looked down at his wrist and laughed. 'I have a lot to thank my band for, and now I can add that it has brought us back together.'
She avoided his eyes. 'What are you doing now that you no longer have a hotel to run?'
'I'm looking for a job,' said Abel, not wanting to intimidate her with the fact that he'd been offered the chance to manage the Stevens.
'There's a big job coming up at the Stevens. My boyfriend told me!
'Your boyfriend told you?' said Abel, repeating each painful word.
'Yes,' she said, 'the hotel will soon be looking for a new assistant manager. Why don't you apply for the job? I'm sure you'd have a good chance of getting it, Wladek. I always knew you would be a success in America.'
'I might well apply,' Abel said. 'It was kind of you to think of me. Why doesn't your boyfriend apply?'
'Oh, no, he's far too junior to be considered; he's only a waiter in the dining room with me.'
Suddenly Abel wanted to change places with him.
'Shall we have dinner?'he said.
'I'm not used to eating out,' Zaphia said. She gazed at the menu in indecision. Abel, suddenly aware she still could not read English, ordered for them both.
She ate with relish and was full of praise for the indifferent food. Abel found her uncritical enthusiasm a tonic after the bored sophistication of Melanie. They exchanged the history of their lives in America. Zaphia had started in domestic service and progressed to being a waitress at the Stevens where she had stayed put for six years. Abel told her of all his experiences until finallyshe glanced at his watch.
'Look at the time, Wladek,' she said, 'it's past eleven and I'm on first breakfast call at six tomorrow!
Abel had not noticed the four hours pass. He would have happily sat there talking to her for the rest of the night, soothed by her admiration which she confessed so artlessly.
'May I see you again, Zaphia?' he asked, as they walked back to the Stevens arm - in - arm.
'If you want to, Wladek.'
They stopped at the servants' entrance - at the back of the hotel.
'This is where I go in,' she said. 'If you were to become the assistant Manager, Wladek, you'd be allowed to go in by the front entrance.'
'Would you mind calling me Abel?'he asked her.
'Abel?' she said, as if she were trying the name on like a new glove. 'But your name is Wladek.'
'It was, but it isn't any longer. My name is Abel Rosnovski.'
'Abel's a funny - name, but it suits you,' she said. 'Thank you for dinner, Abel. It was lovely to see you again. Good night.'
'Good night, Zaphia,' he said, and she was gone.
He watched her disappear through the servants' entrance, then he walked slowly around the block and into the hotel by the front entrance. Suddenly - and not for the first time in his life - he felt very lonely.
Abel spent the weekend thinking about Zaphia and the images associated with her - the stench of the steerage quarters, the confused queues of immigrants on Ellis Island and, above all, their brief but passionate encounter in the lifeboat. He took all his meals in the hotel restaurant to be near her and to study the boyfriend. He came to the conclusion that he must be the young, pimply one. He thought he had pimples, be hoped he had pimples, yes, he did have pimples. He was, regrettably,