He got the message. She didn’t have to look back to see that he’d gone; she heard his footsteps as he headed off down the passageway. Only after ten or fifteen seconds did she look up, and by that time he was stepping through the door.
Suddenly, the tears she’d held back broke: a chaotic cluster of feelings battling to surface all at once: gratitude that Todd was alive, sorrow that Zeffer was dead, anger that Todd had no better way to show his feelings than to grunt at her that way. Didn’t he know how much he’d hurt her?
“Here.”
The voice at her shoulder was that of Jerry Brahms. He was offering her a cleanly pressed handkerchief: a rather old-fashioned gesture but very much appreciated at that particular moment. “Which one are you crying over?”
She wiped her tears from her eyes.
“Because if it’s Todd,” he went on, “I wouldn’t bother. He’ll survive this and go on and forget all of us. That’s the kind of man he is.”
“You think so?”
“I’m sure of it.”
She wiped her nose. Sniffed.
“What was he talking to you about?” Jerry asked.
“He wanted to know about Eppstadt.”
“Not Todd. Zeffer.”
“Oh. He … he had something he wanted me to do for him.”
She wasn’t sure she wanted to share Zeffer’s proposal with Jerry. This was a world filled with people who had extremely complicated allegiances. Suppose Jerry, out of some misplaced loyalty to Katya, tried to stop her? It was perfectly possible that he might try. But then how the hell did she get rid of him, so that she could go upstairs and do what she had to do?
One obvious way presented itself, although it was playing with fire. If she went to the door of the Devil’s Country, Jerry would probably follow her. The place had a way of holding your attention, she knew. And if it held his for long enough, then she could slip away upstairs into the kitchen. Find a knife. Go to the threshold, and get to work.
It wasn’t her favourite plan (the further she stayed away from that door the happier she was) but she had no alternative to hand at that moment. And she needed to act quickly.
Without saying anything she got up and walked off down the passageway towards the door. The wind came out to meet her, like an eager host, ready to slip its arms through hers and invite her in. She didn’t need to look over her shoulder to know that Jerry was coming after her. He was talking to her, just a step behind.
“I don’t think you should go any further,” he said.
“Why not? I just want to see what’s in here. Everybody talks about it. I think I’m the only one who hasn’t actually seen it properly for myself.”
As she spoke she realized that there was more truth to this than she was strictly admitting. Of course she wanted to see. Her little plot to lure Jerry’s attention away was also a neat opportunity to excuse her own curiosity. Talk about muddied allegiances. She had some of her own. One more glimpse into that other world was on her own subconscious agenda, for some reason.
“It’s not good to look in there for too long.” Jerry said.
“I know that,” she replied, a little testily. “I’ve been in there. But another peek can’t hurt, can it? I mean, can it?”
She’d reached the door, and without further debate with Brahms, pushed it open and stared at the landscape before her with eyes that had recently been washed with tears. Everything was in perfect focus; and it was beautiful. She didn’t hesitate to debate the matter with her conscience, Brahms or God in Heaven. She just stepped out of the passageway and followed where Todd had gone just a couple of minutes before.