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. ‘I see that Leonardo was right. “Look at our affair,” he went on, looking up at her. ‘For God’s sake, let go my hand,’ he begged. Beyond was a chaise longue, covered with cushions and shawls laid anyhow across it, together with a discarded tapestry in the making, and a scattering of woollen threads about it. ‘I knowed he were a wrong ’un, but that. All the rest of our lives would be together then, Ann Veronica. He remembered it suddenly. “Well,” said Capes, at length, “we’ve to go down, Ann Veronica. ‘Aye, miss, like a shadow.
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