A flash of lightning penetrated the white curtains that were drawn across the window. Then thunder crashed violently overhead.
He got up, pushed aside the curtain and peered down into the street.
In the light of the street lamps he could see the sidewalk was already spotted with rain. Forked lightning lit up the rooftops and again thunder crashed violently.
“Fay!” he called, moving away from the window. “Are you coming?”
There was no answer from the bedroom, and thinking she might have gone into the bathroom, he returned to the window.
It was raining now, and the sidewalk glistened in the lamp light. Rain made patterns on the window, obscuring his view.
Well, he couldn’t walk through this, he told himself. He would have to wait until it cleared a little, and his determination not to spend the night with Fay began to weaken.
The damage was already done, he thought, crushing out his cigarette. No point really in getting soaked. She expected him to stay the night. She would most certainly be offended if he didn’t. Besides, it might be safer to stay here than return home so late. Mrs. Fielding, his next-door neighbour, was certain to hear his car and wonder what he had been up to. She was certain to tell Ann on her return that he hadn’t come home until the small hours.
He finished his whisky and went over to the cabinet to make himself another.
She’s taking her time, he thought, looking towards the bedroom door.