She said, "That's the sound of coming home."
"You certainly live a long way from anywhere."
"We're just about there."
The street of the village stood empty. Even Mr. Ishak had closed up his shop, and the only lights were those that burnt from behind drawn curtains. On such a night people stayed at home, watched television, made tea.
"We turn left, over this bridge."
They crossed the river, turned into the lane beneath the trees, came to the open gates, the drive that led to the house. All was, predictably, in darkness.
"Don't go around to the front, Conrad. Park just here, at the back. I don't use the front door when I'm on my own. I've got the back-door key."
He drew up, turned off the engine. While the headlights still burnt, she climbed down and went to unlock the back door, reach inside and switch on a light. The dogs had heard the car and were waiting, and showed gratifying excitement at her return, hurling themselves at her feet and uttering small welcoming noises in the back of their throats.
"Oh, what good doggies." She crouched to fondle them. "I'm sorry I've been such a long time. You must have thought I was never coming home. Go on, out you both go and spend pennies, and I'll give you lovely biscuits before you go to bed."
They bundled happily out into the darkness, barked at the alien figure alighting from the Subaru, went to smell him, were patted and spoken to, and then, reassured, bounded off into the trees.
Virginia went on, switching on more lights. The big kitchen slumbered, the Aga was warm, the refrigerator gently hummed to itself. Conrad joined her, carrying his grip.
"Do you want me to put the car away?"
"No matter. We'll leave it in the yard for the night. Just take the keys out…"
"I have…"He laid them on the table.
In the uncompromising brightness, they regarded each other, and Virginia found herself overcome, quite suddenly, by a ridiculous shyness. To deal with this, she became businesslike and hostessy.
"Now. You'd like a drink? A nightcap. Edmund has some malt whisky he keeps for these occasions."
"I'm okay."
"But you'd like one?"
"Yes, I would."
"I'll get it. I won't be a moment."
When she came back bearing the bottle, he had taken off his coat and hat, and the dogs had returned from their nightly expedition and were already curled up on the beanbags by the Aga. Conrad, hunkered down, was making friends with them, talking softly, smoothing their high-domed well-bred heads with a gentle hand. As Virginia appeared, he stood up.
"I've closed the door, and locked it."
"How kind. Thank you. Actually, we often forget to lock doors. Thieves and robbers don't seem to be a problem in Strathcroy." She set the bottle down on the table, found a glass. "You'd better pour it yourself."
"You're not joining me?"
She shook her head, rueful. "No, Conrad, I've had enough for this evening."
He poured the malt and filled the tumbler from the cold tap. Virginia fed the dogs with biscuits. They took them politely, not snapping nor grabbing, and munched them appreciatively up.
"They're beautiful spaniels."
"Edmund's gun dogs, and very well behaved. With Edmund in charge, they don't dare be anything else." The biscuits were finished. She said, "If you'd like to bring your drink upstairs with you, I'll show you where you're sleeping." She gathered up his hat and coat, and Conrad collected his grip, and she led the way out of the kitchen, turning lights off and on as she went. Down the passage, across the big hall, and up the stairs.
"What a lovely house."
"It's big, but I like it that way."
He followed behind her. Below them, the old grandfather clock ticked the minutes away, but their feet made no sound on the thick carpets. The spare room faced over the front of the house. She opened the door and turned on the switch, and all was illuminated by the cold brilliance of the overhead chandelier. It was a large room, furnished with high brass bedsteads and a mahogany suite of Victorian furniture that Virginia had inherited from Vi. Taken unawares, it presented an impersonal face, without flowers or books. As well, the air was stuffy and unused.
"I'm afraid it doesn't look very welcoming." She dropped his hat and coat on a chair and went to fling open the tall sash window. The night wind flowed in, stirring the curtains. Conrad joined her and they leaned out, gazing into the velvety darkness. Light from the window drew a chequered pattern on the gravel beyond the front door, but all else was obscured.
He took a deep lungful of air. He said, "It all smells so clean and sweet. Like fresh spring water."
"You have to take my word for it, but we're looking at a wonderful view. You'll see it in the morning. Out over the garden to the fields and the hills."
From the trees by the church, an owl hooted. Virginia shivered and withdrew from the window. She said, "It's cold. Shall I close it again?"
"No. Leave it. It's too good to shut away."
She drew the heavy curtains, settling them so that there should be no chinks. "The bathroom's through that door." He went to investigate. "There should be towels, and the water's always hot if you want to take a bath." She turned on the small lights on the dressing table, and then the bedside light, and then went to switch off the cold brilliance of the chandelier. At once the high-ceilinged room was rendered cosier, even intimate. "I'm afraid there's no shower. This isn't a very modem establishment."
He emerged from the bathroom as Virginia turned back a heavy bed-cover, revealing puffy square pillows encased in embroidered linen, a flowered eiderdown. "There's an electric blanket if you want to turn it on." She folded the cover, laid it aside. "Now."
There was nothing more to occupy her hands, her attention. She faced Conrad. For a moment neither of them spoke. His eyes, behind the heavy horn-rims, were sombre. She saw his rugged features, the deep lines on either side of his mouth. He was still holding his drink in his hand, but now moved to set it down on the table beside the bed. She watched him do this, and thought of that hand gently fondling the head of one of Edmund's dogs. A kindly man.
"Will you be all right, Conrad?" An innocently intended question, but as soon as the words were spoken she heard them as loaded.
He said, "I don't know."
There's no problem, she had told him, but knew that the problem had lurked between them all evening and now could no longer be pushed out of sight. It was no good prevaricating. They were two grown-up people, and life was hell.
She said, "I'm grateful to you. I needed comfort."
"I need you…"
"I had fantasies about Leesport. Going back to Grandma and Gramps. I didn't tell you that."
"That summer, I fell in love with you…"
"I imagined getting there. In a limousine from Kennedy. And it was all the same. The trees and the lawns, and the smell of the Atlantic blowing in over the Bay."
"You went back to England…"
"I wanted someone to tell me 1 was great. That I was doing all right. I wanted not to be alone."
"I feel like shit…"
"It's two worlds, isn't it, Conrad? Bumping, and then moving apart. Light-years away from each other."
"… because I want you."
"Why does everything have to happen when it's too late? Why does everything have to be so impossible?"
"It's not impossible."
"It is, because it's over. Being young is over. The moment you have a child of your own being young is over."
"I want you."
"I'm not young any more. A different person."
"I haven't slept with a woman…"
"Don't say it, Conrad."
"That's what loneliness is all about."
She said, "I know."
Outside in the garden, nothing moved. Nothing stirred the dripping leaves of the rhododendrons. Eventually, a figure slipped away down the narrow paths of the shrubbery, leaving a trail of footmarks on the sodden grass, the indentations of high-heeled shoes.