‘Spider light?’ said Maud nervously.
‘Spider light’s the in-between time. It’s the light that spiders like best of all–the time when it isn’t quite day or night: early morning, when the day hasn’t quite started; or evening, when the daylight’s beginning to fade.’ She paused, and then in a faraway voice, said, ‘All those grey winter mornings when you go downstairs from your bed in the dark and open the curtains to find a huge black spider crouching in the half-light. It’s been there all night, that huge black spider–perhaps it’s been watching you and waiting for you, only you didn’t know it was there…
‘That’s the dangerous thing about spider light, Maud: it hides things–things you never knew existed in the world. But once you have seen those things, you can never afterwards forget them.’
Maud had never forgotten about spider light, and even when she was grown up, if she had to walk past Latchkill she always did so quickly, determinedly not glancing in through the gates. There were bad things inside Latchkill: there was spider light, and there were huge heavy doors that shut in things you had not known existed…When she was small, Maud used to dream about the black iron doors that would be inside Latchkill–doors that would be there to shut something terrible away from the world and must never be opened. Sometimes she had woken up crying because of the nightmare. Father always came into her bedroom if she cried, and he seemed to understand about the nightmare. He told her everyone had nightmares, and he would always keep her safe.
After lunch at Quire House, Maud and Miss Thomasina had walked past Latchkill. It had been nice of Miss Thomasina to invite her to lunch, Maud thought, although parts of the afternoon had been a little strange. Miss Thomasina had kissed her very warmly on her arrival which Maud had not expected, and said she had a present for Maud; she loved giving people presents.
The present, laid out on Thomasina’s own bed, was a set of underwear: a chemise, an under-bodice, little silk drawers and stockings to match. At first Maud did not know where to look for embarrassment; underwear was not something you were supposed to discuss, never mind spreading it out on a bed.
‘There was a rose pink set as well,’ Thomasina was saying. ‘But I thought blue matched your eyes. I hope I got the size right. Perhaps we ought to make sure it all fits. Let’s try them on you. I’ll help you out of your things. How slender you are–an eighteen-inch waist, I expect? Yes, I thought so.’
Of course, it was perfectly all right to be undressing like this in Miss Forrester’s bedroom. It was not as if there was a man watching. Even so, Maud felt awkward and a bit shivery, and she felt even more awkward and even more shivery when the chemise was dropped deftly over her head. It probably did not matter that her breasts were touched in the process. Thomasina did not seem to think it mattered; she said Maud had pretty breasts, and dear goodness, there was no need to be blushing so rosily! She had intended a compliment. Had Maud a beau, at all? She was so pretty, there was surely a gentleman interested in her.
Maud said at once that there was not. Once or twice she had been invited to take a drive with a gentleman, but she usually made a polite excuse. She was not, said Maud in a rush of confidence, very comfortable with gentlemen. They were so coarse, weren’t they?
‘Perhaps you prefer the company of ladies?’ said Thomasina, and Maud said, gratefully, that she did. Ladies were somehow less threatening. Gentler.
‘You don’t want to be married some day? Most girls of your age do.’