'Er... cleaning lady?' she said. 'Someone must come in to keep an eye on things?'
'What she do, kick der dust to death?'
'I suppose there must be... caretakers and things?' said Sacharissa uncertainly. A blue dress was saying: wear me, I'm just your type. See me shimmer.
Rocky prodded a box of mothballs that had spilled out across a dressing table and rolled into the dust.
'Looks like dem moths are really keen on dese things,' he said.
'You don't think a dress like this would be a bit... forward, do you?' said Sacharissa, holding the dress against herself.
Rocky looked worried. He hadn't been hired for his dress sense, and certainly not for his grasp of colloquial Middle Class.
'You're quite a lot forward already,' he opined.
'I meant make me look like a fast woman!'
'Ah, right,' said Rocky, getting there. 'No. Def'nitly not.'
'Really?'
'Sure. No one could run much in a dress like dat.'
Sacharissa gave up. 'I suppose Mrs Hotbed could let it out a bit,' she said, reflectively. It was tempting to stay, because some of the racks were quite full, but she felt like a trespasser here and part of her was certain that a woman with hundreds of dresses was more likely to miss one than a woman with a dozen or so. In any case, the empty darkness was getting on her nerves. It was full of other people's ghosts. 'Let's get back.'
When they were halfway across the hall someone started to sing. The words were incoherent and the tune was being modulated by alcohol, but it was singing of a sort and it was under their feet.
Rocky shrugged when Sacharissa glanced at him.
'Maybe all dem moths is having a ball?' he said.
There must be a caretaker, mustn't there? Maybe we'd better just, you know, mention we've been here?' Sacharissa agonized. It hardly seems polite, just taking things and running
She headed for a green door tucked away beside the staircase and pushed it open. The singing went louder for a moment but stopped as soon as she said, 'Excuse me?' into the darkness.
After a few moments' silence a voice said: 'Hello! How are you? I'm fine!'
'It's only, er, me? William said it was all right?' She presented the statement like a question, in the voice of someone who was apologizing to a burglar for discovering him.
'Mr Mothball Nose? Whoops!' said the voice in the shadows at the bottom of the stairs.
'Er... are you all right?'
'Can't get... it's a... hahaha... it's all chains... hahaha...'
'Are you... ill?'
'No, I'm fine, not ill at all, jus' had a few too many
'Few too many what?' said Sacharissa, speaking from a sheltered upbringing.
'... wazza... things you put drink in... barrels?'
'You're drunk!'
'Tha's right! Tha's the word! Drunk as a... thing... smellything... ahahaha...'
There was a tinkle of glass.