And then quite suddenly there was a brilliant flash and the thunder and the rain broke together. She stood in close to the door while a curtain of water fell between her and the way she had come. The hood over the door wasn’t going to keep her from being soaked to the skin. She pressed herself as close to the door as she could and felt it give. It swung in, and everything was dark in the house. If it was empty, there wouldn’t be anyone there to make a light. If it was the North Lodge it had been empty for years. There was another flash of lightning, very bright. It showed her a narrow passage with a door on either side and one at the far end. There was some scuffed linoleum on the floor. All the doors were shut. She stepped into the passage and it was dark again.

If this was the North Lodge it was empty, and if it was empty, why was the door left open like this? She thought about calling out to see if there was anyone there, and it wasn’t a thought she liked. It was still in her mind, when there was a third flash and the door at the end of the passage began to open.

Chapter 27

THE thunder crashed overhead. What the flash had disclosed was a moving door. Doors don’t move unless someone is moving them. This door was opening and someone was coming through. The lightning flared again. For a moment the place was as bright as day. She saw David Moray coming towards her, and he may have been frowning at the lightning or he may have been frowning at her, but he was certainly frowning. The frown went with her into the dark that followed the flash, and she thought that it was for her. She wondered why David should look as if he hated her. He came down the passage and spoke through the noise of the storm.

“What are you doing here?”

He had his hands on her shoulders and was bending down to her ear, or she would not have heard him. The rain banged on the roof over their heads. They stood there together, and there was anger between them. Sally said, stiffening the words with her anger so that they would reach him,

“There’s a cloudburst-I suppose you haven’t noticed it.”

The lightning lit them up again. The passage swam in the blue fire. He reached over her shoulder and pushed the door. Then he had her by the arm and was taking her down the passage. She caught bits of what he was saying. Something about not being deaf, and then,

“Come and look at this damned place. I don’t know what to do about it.”

They went through to the room from which he had come. It was the kitchen. There was just enough light to distinguish the wooden table and a chair or two, and the range. There was a dresser against the farther wall and linoleum on the floor. The next flash of lightning was not as vivid as the others had been, and the thunder was farther off. The kitchen led into a kind of lean-to scullery. Outside the back door there was a narrow flagged passage with the rain splashing down into it, and on the other side of the passage a large dark structure which she guessed to be the studio erected by the late Hodges. It was as nearly dark as makes no difference in the scullery, and the noise was deafening. David had her by the arm. When she realized that she was expected to walk out into the rain she stopped walking and lifted her voice against the weather.

“No, David!”

His voice did better than hers, for she heard his “What?” quite distinctly.

“I’m-not-going-out-into-that-rain.”

He must have caught some of that, because he bent right down to her ear and shouted.

“It’s only a step! Come along!”

And with that his arm came round her waist and she was being swung right off her feet and jumped across the passage into the open doorway on the other side.

He was laughing when he set her down.

“There! We’re all right now and out of the wet!”

“I’m drenched.”

“You can’t be-you weren’t out in it long enough. But I don’t know why you hadn’t the sense to bring a coat.”

“I didn’t know there was going to be a storm.”

He turned a considering eye upon her.

“How did you get here anyway? You didn’t know I was going to be here.”

“Of course I didn’t know!”

The fury of the rain had lessened, or else the roof of this place didn’t help it to make as much noise. Suprisingly, they could hear themselves speak. The indignation in Sally’s voice didn’t seem to register. He said,

“No, you couldn’t have known, because I didn’t know myself. It just seemed a good idea to bring my stuff straight here, so I dropped off my bus at the corner and came along. But now I’m not sure that it’s going to do.”

Sally said, “Why?”

They couldn’t really see each other, though it wasn’t as dark as it had been in the lodge. They were just shadows against the screen of the two big windows which looked north-a shadow David and a shadow Sally. She didn’t need a light to tell that the shadow David was frowning again. He said,

“Well, I don’t know. The place is all right-very good light-”

She couldn’t resist an interruption.

“Darling, it’s practically pitch dark.”

He resumed with vigour.

“I’m not talking about now. I came and saw it this morning-naturally.”

“Of course-you would! Did Moira come with you?”

“Why shouldn’t she?”

“No reason at all. You are going to paint her here, aren’t you?”

His voice lost some of its vigour.

“Well-I don’t know-”

“You don’t know if you’re going to paint her?”

He said angrily, “Of course I’m going to paint her! What I’m not sure about is doing it here. It’s-it’s a bit out of the way.”

It occurred to Sally with pleasure that he was not unaware of the mousetrap of Wilfrid’s metaphor. He might want the cheese, but his Scottish caution was aroused. She said in her sweetest voice,

“But darling, isn’t that just what you want-no interruptions-nobody coming in and out to see how you’re getting on-just you and Medusa? What more could you possibly want?”

Her wrist was caught in a bruising grip. He said, “Stop it!” and Sally said, “Stop what?”

“The way you are going on! As if I wanted to be alone with the damned girl! I don’t! I want to paint that picture! I’m going to paint it, and it’s going to be good-it’s going to be damned good! And you are going to come and see fair play!”

“I’m going to what?”

“You’re going to come to the sittings and see that she doesn’t get up to any of her tricks.”

Sally laughed.

“Darling, chaperones are extinct! Anyhow I don’t feel as if I should like the part. And how Moira would love me!”

The pressure on her wrist increased.

“Do you want her to love you?”

She said in a taunting voice, “Don’t you?”

He let go of her with such a furious gesture that she cried out.

“What’s the matter?”

“You nearly broke my wrist-that’s all.”

He said, “You shouldn’t say things like that. You know perfectly well-you know perfectly well-”

His voice stopped. It was as if they had come abruptly upon the edge of something there in this darkened place. Another step, another word, and they might be over that edge. If Sally could have got her breath she would have asked what it was she was supposed to know, but she couldn’t get her breath, or at least not enough to carry the words.

David went past her to the door and said.

“We’d better be getting along.”

Sally stood where she was. There were bright candles in her mind-big shining ones as bright as stars. She found a handful of everyday words.

“I don’t want to get wet.”

David found a handful too.

“It has stopped raining.”

She came to stand beside him and looked out. The eaves of the lodge dripped into the passage and the flags ran like a brook, but there really wasn’t any more rain. David swung her across as he had done when they had come, and then turned back to stand in the wet and lock the studio door. He said briefly, “I’ll fetch my things in the morning. The house will be better.” And then they came through into the kitchen and he opened the kitchen door.