Authors: Frederic Lindsay
'It's
quiet
here.'
She
was
fumbling
in
her
bag.
'That
big
place over
there
belongs
to
a
builder.
And
here
–
look – I
have
to
unlock
this
gate.
That's
how
safe
it
is.'
The
close
entrance
was
shut
off
by
a
tall
structure
of
bars.
'What
would
you
do
if
you
forgot
the
key
for
the
gate?'
She
closed
it
behind
them
and
went
in
front
of
him
without
answering.
The
passage
was
brightly
lit
and
the
walls
were
tiled
to
shoulder
height,
blue
tiles
with
a
single
white
flower
on
each.
As
he
climbed
behind
her,
he
asked
again,
'If
you
hadn't
your
key,
would
you
be
able
to
attract
a
neighbour's
attention?
Would
someone
come
down
and
let
you
in?'
'No
chance
of
that.'
They
were
on
the
first
landing
and
as
she
opened
her
door
she
nodded
at
the
one
opposite.
'That's
a
jewellery
repair
workshop.
And
upstairs
it's
a
dental
mechanic's and
I
don't
know
what
else.
There's
no
one
but
me
here
at
night.'
In
the
flat,
he
asked,
'Doesn't
it
frighten
you
being
alone
in
the
building?' Embarrassed,
he
took
only
a
vague
impression
of
the
room.
Decoration,
carpet,
furniture,
all
of
it
seemed
new.
He
had
the
feeling
he
disliked
in
a
hotel
room
or
a
guesthouse,
that
it
could
belong
to
no
one,
since
it
was
made
for
strangers.
He
was
by
nature
a
home-loving
man.
The
one
exception
to
this
impersonality
was
a
painting
on
the
wall
opposite
where
he
was
standing.
It
showed
a
brown
and
orange
landscape
of
low
hills
with
a
pale
fragment
of
moon
or
sun
low
in
the
sky.
The
frame
was
wide
and
painted
gold,
and
the
picture
seemed
to
have
come
there
by
accident
from
a
different
life
.
'What
makes
you
think
I
live
alone?'
she
asked.
The
question
startled
him
with
a
queasy
vision
of
a
husband
appearing
from
the
next
room.
'It's
all
right,'
she
said,
'my
friend
doesn't
live
here.
Never
mind him.'
He
followed
her
into
the
inner
room.
It
was
tiny
and
the
bed
seemed
enormous,
but
she
went
past
it
and
opened
a
second
door.
'See?'
she
said.
But
he
didn't
until
she
pointed.
'There's
a
mirror
on
the
ceiling
over
the
bath.'
As
he
looked
up,
puzzled
by
it,
she
laughed
at
him.
'What
good
would
it
be
covered
in
steam? Doesn't
it
make
you
wonder
what
kind
of
people
they
were?'
'People?'
he
repeated
in
bewilderment.
'Oh,
this
place
doesn't
belong
to
him.
We're
fairly
sure
of
that.
We
think
it's
one
of
the
little
presents
he's
picked
up
for
being
co-operative.'
'I
don't
understand.'
'Why
should
you?
Don't
you
think
I
know
why
you
came
here?'
She
took
his
hand
and
laid
it
upon
her
breast.
'Like
this?'
she
asked
softly.
'Isn't
this
what
you
wanted?'
At
the
touch
of
her
separate
flesh,
a
shock
ran
through
him.
Trembling,
he
brought
his
face
close
to
hers.
She
pulled
back.
'I
don't
allow
that,'
she
said.
'Anything
else,
but
I
don't
let
people
kiss
me
on
the
mouth.'
It
had
been
too
long.
As
they
lay
together
naked
on
the
bed
in
the
tiny
room,
he
knew
that
he
would
fail.
He
had
thought
his
manhood
was
gone,
but
he
responded
and,
even
when
with
a
sudden
shuddering
he
lost
control,
she
made
him
respond
again
and
he
entered
her
and
she
moved
under
him
as
if
he
was
a
man
.
When
it
was
over,
he
was
weeping
and
it
did
not
matter
that
perhaps
he
had
not
emptied
his
seed
for
a
second
time.
'Who
is
Clare?'
she
whispered
warm
against
his
ear.
Appalled,
he
kept
silence. 'Is
that
your
wife's
name?
You
kept
saying
it
all
the
time.'
He
turned
his
head
from
her.
'Why
did
you –
why
did
you
let
me?
You
can't
have
found
me
attractive
.
I'm
an
old
man.
I
shouldn't
be
in
bed
with
you.'
'Because
you
wanted
it
so
badly.'
She
stretched
like
a
cat.
'It was
the
way
you
looked
at
me.
You
were
so
frightened.'