“Who do you talk to?” she asked again.
“No one. No one heard.”
“Why do you do it, then?”
He had to say something so he said, “For peace.”
He put on his jacket, went to the window and peered outside. Snow lay on the houses. The wind blew angrily across them. He glanced into the courtyard below, where the silhouettes were waiting.
“Whose peace?” she asked.
“The light went out, didn’t it, while I was working the set?”
“Did it?”
“A short break, a second or two, like a power cut?”
“Yes.”
“Put it out again now.” He was very still. “Put the light out.”
“Why?”
“I like to look at the snow.”
She put the light out and he drew the threadbare curtains. Outside the snow reflected a pale glow into the sky. They were in half darkness.
“You said we’d love now,” she complained.
“Listen; what’s your name?”
He heard the rustle of her raincoat.
“What is it?” His voice was rough.
“Anna.”
“Listen, Anna.” He went to the bed. “I want to marry you,” he said. “When I met you, in that inn, when I saw you sitting there, listening to the records, I fell in love with you, do you understand? I’m an engineer from Magdeburg, that’s what I said; are you listening?”
He seized her arms and shook her. His voice was urgent.
“Take me away,” she said.
“That’s right! I said I’d make love to you, take you away to all the places you dreamed of, do you understand?” He pointed to the posters on the wall. “To islands, sunny places—”
“Why?” she whispered.
“I brought you back here. You thought it was to make love, but I drew this knife and threatened you. I said if you made a sound, I’d kill you with the knife, like I—I told you I’d killed the boy and I’d kill you.”
“Why?”
“I had to use the wireless. I needed a house, see? Somewhere to work the wireless. I’d nowhere to go so I picked you up and used you. Listen: if they ask you, that’s what you must say.”
She laughed. She was afraid. She lay back uncertainly on her bed, inviting him to take her, as if that was what he wanted.
“If they ask, remember what I said.”
“Make me happy. I love you.”
She put out her arms and pulled his head toward her. Her lips were cold and damp, too thin against her sharp teeth. He drew away but she still held him. He strained his ears for any sound above the wind, but there was none.
“Let’s talk a bit,” he said. “Are you lonely, Anna? Who’ve you got?”
“What do you mean?”
“Parents, boyfriend. Anyone.”
She shook her head in the darkness. “Just you.”
“Listen; here, let’s button your coat up. I like to talk first. I’ll tell you about London. You want to hear about London, I’ll bet. I went for a walk, once, it was raining and there was this man by the river, drawing on the pavement in the rain. Fancy that! Drawing with chalk in the rain, and the rain just washing it away.”
“Come now. Come.”
“Do you know what he was drawing? Just dogs, cottages and that. And the people, Anna—listen to this!—standing in the rain, watching him.”
“I want you. Hold me. I’m frightened.”
“Listen! Do you know why I went for a walk? They wanted me to make love to a girl. They sent me to London and I went for this walk instead.”
He could make her out as she watched him, judging him according to some instinct he did not understand.
“Are you alone too?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you come?”
“They’re crazy people the English! That old fellow by the river: they think the Thames is the biggest river in the world, you know that? And it’s nothing! Just a little brown stream, you could nearly jump across it in some places!”
“What’s that noise?” she said suddenly. “I know that noise! It was a gun; the cocking of a gun!”
He held her tightly to stop her trembling.
“It was just a door,” he said, “the latch of a door. This place is made of paper. How could you hear anything in such a wind?”