She turned her head. “Oh, don’t look at me,” she said. “Please go and help Gerda.”
He laughed a little nervously and turned away from her. Gerda stood in the doorway watching them. The wet jersey on her big figure made her look even more mannish than she actually was.
She said: “I’ve locked up the car. The rain isn’t getting in. I think it will be all right to leave.”
Denny shrugged. “It’ll have to be,” he said. “I’ve had enough of that wind for tonight. My God! I’m wet through. Maybe I’d better get a suitcase in.”
Gerda went to the door. “You’ll need some help,” she said, and together they battled their way once more to the car. Denny was a little piqued to see that Gerda managed the wind much better than he did. In fact, once she came to his aid and shoved him forward. He was equally astonished at her strength. Together they brought the suit-case back and closed the door on the storm.
“You’re hellish strong,” Denny gasped, wrenching off his sodden collar. “Quite a Samson.”
Gerda didn’t say anything. She disappeared into the kitchen.
Denny wandered into the lounge, where Stella was standing shivering before an empty grate. She held her wet skirt away from her body as he came in.
“Have a nip of this,” Denny said, producing his flask, “otherwise you’ll catch a cold.” He was feeling shivery himself.
They both had a long pull from the flask and immediately felt better for it.