For hours he seemed to have pleasant dreams of open skies and airplanes, but then the dreams would disintegrate into fleshy charnel house nightmares where he could hear her calling to him through a fog. It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his. ’ ‘But you managed to escape nevertheless,’ Gerald said calmly, ‘disguising yourself as a nun. I will go with you. You’re of age— you’re of age. There was a case, or something, some years ago. “My dear child,” he said, “with me you need have no apprehension. Then he entered her passionately, riding her with exquisite precision. A-L-I-V-A—Aliva—T-R-EN—Trencher that's it. Was there anything at all in those locked rooms of her aunt’s mind? Were they fully furnished and only a little dusty and cobwebby and in need of an airing, or were they stark vacancy except, perhaps, for a cockroach or so or the gnawing of a rat? What was the mental equivalent of a rat’s gnawing? The image was going astray.
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