It had been essential that Emma should be deceived, and this he had impressed upon Lindsay. They had agreed that Emma should be told that Randall was out of London visiting a dangerously ill friend, how unfortunately, on the very day when Emma was to be at Grayhallock. When forming this plan it had seemed to Randall more than a little unlikely that Emma would believe him capable of putting even the last farewells of a close friend before the pleasure of a day with Lindsay; but Lindsay had apparently produced an extremely circumstantial account and Emma had seemed to be convinced. It occurred to Randall later that Emma's ingenious mind, professionally so used to devising stratagems within stratagems, might, even if she thought the story false, imagine that it covered up, not a day with Lindsay, but a day of snooping about Grayhallock spying on her own activities. Finally he decided there was no knowing whether she believed the story or not, but it was just enough for his purposes that she was not certain he was with Lindsay. With all this the terrible and humiliating suspicion remained that they were both in league against him.
Randall hated the idea of telephoning Grayhallock. He did not at that moment want to believe that Grayhallock existed. The mere notion that one could lift the telephone and conjure that whole world into being at the other end made him sweat and shiver as at some unsavoury piece of magic. Yet as soon as Lindsay had said it he saw that it was essential. It would remove from him the nightmare picture, which of all the gallery of spectres was the one which now most haunted him, of Emma quietly opening the door upon his embrace of Lindsay. He said, 'How should we manage it?
'Easily, she said. 'You get through to the number and give me the phone. I'll ask for Emma. When she answers I'll give you the phone so that you can hear her voice. Then I'll have little conversation with her. It can be perfectly natural and plausible.
'Do we have to have the conversation? Can't we just ring off without letting on who we are?
'No. Then she would guess.
'All right, said Randall after a moment. He picked up the telephone-. He said to the operator, 'Can I have Netherden 28. It's near Ashford, in Kent. Uttering the familiar number in Lindsay's presence felt like betraying a precious secret. Yet there was a certain exhilaration in it too. In the silence that followed Randall felt his heart beating, painful blow after blow, as he stared at Lindsay with widened eyes. The phone began to ring. Then Ann's voice said, 'Hello. This is Netherden 28.
Ann. The scene before him was blotted out and he stood paralysed in the presence of that voice. Of course he might have supposed that she would answer the phone. But Ann. Ann existed now, standing in the dining-room at Grayhallock this very moment holding the telephone and waiting for him to speak. Ann and all her thoughts. Then in a second it occurred to him that simply by saying' Ann' he could make his whole palace of dreams vanish away and end the days of his soft enslavement perhaps forever. If he but spoke her name they would magically disappear, the cushions and the sherbert, the tinkling bells and the gay-plumaged birds, the golden collars and the curving blades. As if to remove a terrible temptation he slowly let the telephone fall to his side.
Lindsay had taken it from him and was saying in her efficient secretary voice, 'I wonder if I could have a word with Miss Emma Sands, if she's with you, please?
There was a pause. Randall began to see the drawing-room again.
Lindsay had spoken to Ann. It was the sort of impossible event which ought to bring the world automatically to an end.
Lindsay thrust the telephone urgently into his hand. After a moment he heard, unmistakably, Emma's voice saying, 'Hello. This is Emma Sands. And after another moment, 'Hello. Who is that speaking? He gave the instrument back to Lindsay.
'It's me, Emma dear, Lindsay. Pause.
'Oh, quite as might be expected. Pause.
'Yes, as it turned out. I hope you had a comfortable journey? Pause.
'Are you alone? Pause.
'I wonder if you know now what time you'll be back? That's what I really rang About.
Pause.
'Yes, I'll do your sandwiches and milk as usual. Be well and bless me.
Pause.
'Good-bye, darling.
Lindsay put the phone back and looked triumphantly at Randall. 'There!
Randall stared at her, his big face wrinkled up in anxiety and horror.
This latest piece of sorcery had confused him utterly. He was almost ready to believe that the sound of Emma's voice which he had heard was an auditory hallucination induced by Lindsay. And what is the significance of the telephone conversation? What had happened in the gaps? He felt obscurely that some outrage had been committed against Grayhallock and thus against himself. He said, 'What were you talking About?»
'Well, you heard!
'I heard your half of it!
'She just asked how I was getting on without her and said she'd had a nice journey and that she'd be back about eight and would I do her sandwiches, and that was all.
'Was it? said Randall. 'Did she say she was alone?
'She said she wasn't sure.
'Oh Christ! said Randall. He supposed by now Ann must know all about him and Lindsay, somebody must have told her. Why did Ann have to intrude on this day of all days? He simply hadn't wanted to think about whether she knew or not. And she must have guessed it was Lindsay on the telephone, even if Emma didn't tell her.
'I feel sick, said Randall..
'Darling, have some sense, have some backbone! said Lindsay. 'At least you know now that Emma won't walk in on us. Hasn't ringing up made everything better?
'No, it's made everything worse, said Randall. He went over to the window and looked out. The sun shone on the dusty twisted group of evergreens, huddling together like captives.
There was a silence. Lindsay said harshly, 'Don't think I don't perfectly realize that you can drop me at any minute you please and go back to your snug cosy set-up at Grayhallock. Your dear dutiful wife is waiting for you. Why don't you go?
'For Christ's sake, said Randall, 'don't torture me. I love you to distraction. You know that perfectly well. He turned and came down the room towards her. She was leaning back in Emma's chair and had drawn out a long tress of hair and was pulling it through her fingers. The hem of the brown linen dress skirted her knees.
Randall dropped on the ground before her. He did not touch her.
He said, 'Listen, Lindsay, I absolutely beseech you not to persecute me now. I've been under the most terrible strain.
'All right, she said. She looked at him coolly and began to loop the tress of hair round her wrist. 'But you've so long been shouting that you wanted me. And now when I positively offer myself you seem to be thinking better of it. I'm not sure how long the offer will remain open. So you'd better watch your step. That's all.
'I'm not thinking better of it! said Randall frantically. 'I'm —’ How could he explain? He was terrified of making some dreadful irreparable blunder. 'It's not that I believe that Emma really arranged all this —
'What do you mean, that Emma really arranged all this? Are you mad?
'I'm saying I don't believe it—
'Well, why mention it then? Randall, you're beginning to rave. She pushed him aside as he now ineffectually clasped at her knees, and stood over him.
'Help me, Lindsay.
'You don't deserve it, she said. 'For being so abject you deserve spurning, you deserve whipping. However, I'll do one more thing for you, one last thing. Get out of the way.