bumping into the corner of the table as I passed, and turned the faucet off. There's one 
sound a plumber can't stand to hear, and that's the sound of dripping.
    I paused for a moment, listening and looking. Dan came in through the kitchen door, 
banging the screen behind him, and I said: 'Ssshh.'
    'What is it?' he whispered, hoarsely.
    'I'm not sure. Do you hear anything?'
    'I don't think so. Why don't you turn on the light? Do you enjoy being scared?'
    I turned and frowned at him. 'Who's scared?'
    We waited in silence for almost a whole minute, and if you've ever waited in silence 
for a whole minute, then you'll know how long that is. I was sure, somewhere in the 
house, I could still hear dripping.
    I said to Dan: 'Do you hear water?'
    'Water?' he queried. 'What do you mean, water?'
    'Listen.'
    We strained our ears again, and this time we both heard it clearly. It was the 
steady, distinctive sound of water, pattering on to a carpeted floor. It had a splashy 
quality to it that told me the carpet was already soaked through.
    'What do you make of that?' I asked Dan.
    'I don't know. You're the plumbing expert. Burst pipe, maybe?'
    I crossed the kitchen again and found the light-switch. I flicked it down, but all 
that happened was that the lights shone dimly for a moment, and then fizzled out. A small 
shower of blue sparks danced from the switch and there was a smell of burned plastic. The 
water must have short-circuited the wires.
    'I have a flashlight in the glove box of my car,' I whispered to Dan. 'Why don't you 
go get it, while I see if I can find where this water's coming from?'
    'Sure. But take care. It sounds like the whole place is leaking.'
    Dan went out of the back door, and the screen banged again. Myself, I waited in the 
darkness of the kitchen for a moment, and then I ventured out into the hallway.
    The hall was almost totally dark. Only a thin blue reflected light from the frosty 
ground outside filtered in through the crescent-shaped window over the front door. An 
antique warming-pan gleamed copper-and-blue in the shadows, and on the opposite wall 
there was a dim painting of Lake Candlewood. I touched a potful of feathery pampas grass 
as I crept along towards the stairs, and I practically suffered a heart attack where I 
stood. But at last I reached the foot of the stained-oak staircase, and looked up to the 
landing above.
    Less bravely, I called: 'Jimmy? Are you up there?' knowing
    damned well that he wasn't. I think I just wanted to hear the sound of my own voice. 
Out of the darkness, however, there were no answers, no whispers, no reassuring hellos. 
Only the dripping and trickling of water, and the spongey noise of rugs soaking it up.
    I placed my foot on the first stair, and it made a squelching noise. I reached down 
and the stair-carpet was sodden. It seemed as if the water was trickling down the stairs 
in a slow cataract, and that meant the whole of the landing must be flooded.
    Right then, Dan came through from the kitchen with the
    flashlight.
    'Will you look at this place?' I told him. 'It's almost afloat.' He shone the 
flashlight on to the red-patterned stair carpet. It was glistening and dark with wet, and 
the stain was already spreading across the hall.
    'This isn't a burst pipe,' he said. 'This is more like Niagara Falls.'
    I looked around. It wouldn't be long before the water poured out of the hallway and 
into the living-room, and that would mean that the Bodines' furniture and carpets and 
drapes would be ruined. 'What I want to know is where are Jimmy and Alison?' I said. 'If 
this is a burst pipe, it's been leaking like this for hours. You can't tell me they went 
out for the evening and left their house full of water. It just doesn't make any sense.' 
Dan glanced apprehensively up the stairs. 'I guess we'd better go see what's happening up 
there.'
    We hesitated for a moment, not sure who was going to go first. 'You're the plumber,' 
said Dan, handing over the flashlight, and that's how I volunteered. I led the way 
cautiously up the soaking stair carpet, my feet squeezing out water with every step, and 
by the time I reached the darkened landing at the top of the stairs, my shoes were 
letting in the wet.
    'Is there anybody there?' asked Dan, in a heavy whisper. 'Maybe a killer whale or 
two,' I told him. 'There's enough water for them.'
    I flicked the flashlight beam around, at the panelled walls, at the oil paintings of 
Connecticut scenery, at the small semicircular table at the far end of the hall with its 
copper vase of dried flowers. There were five doors leading off the landing -three to the 
left and two to the right, and the two on the right were both ajar. Everything looked 
quite normal. It was only when I shone the light downwards at the dark reflecting lake of 
water that covered the whole floor that I saw how strange this whole situation was. My 
flashlight was mirrored in the slowly-moving surface, and I could see myself, hanging 
upside-down from the soles of my shoes, drowned like a mariner in the blackness of an 
indoor pool.
    'Where's the water coming from?' asked Dan. 'It looks like the walls are quite dry.'
    I shone the flashlight at each of the doors. As far as I could make out the water was 
swirling out of the end door on the right, which was slightly open. There was a 
noticeable pattern of ripples, and I could hear a dripping, splattering noise from inside.
    'Maybe the tank cracked,' I said, splashing across the landing. The water was at 
least an inch deep, but my shoes were so wet by now that I didn't bother. That was the 
last time I was going to spend thirty-one bucks on a pair of fashion shoes with a fancy 
gold chain across the front. I'd rather be unfashionable in leather than fashionable in 
cardboard.
    I reached the end door. It had a small ceramic plaque on it with a painting of an 
antique car, and it said 'Oliver's Room'. I shone the flashlight on the plaque for Dan's 
benefit, and he read it and pulled a face.
    Carefully, shining the flashlight ahead of me, I pushed open the bedroom door. Again, 
my own light was reflected back at me out of the glittering darkness. The dripping noise 
was louder, and there was another sound as well, a sound that made me stay still, right 
where I was, and gave me a freezing, tightening feeling all around my scalp.
    It was the sound of somebody, or something, gurgling.
    'Dan,' I hissed. 'Dan, there's someone in there.'
    'You're kidding,' he said. His face was rigid with tension.
    'I can hear something. Listen, for Christ's sake. Can't you hear that?'
    He listened. There was nothing, except for the incessant dripping and splashing of 
water.
    'You must have imagined it,' he said, with a nervous smile that showed he didn't 
believe for one moment that I had.
    I took a breath, and pushed the door wider. The room was j alive with reflections and 
shadows. I shone the flashlight across to the far wall, where the bed was, but there was 
nobody lying ; there. I shone it along the skirting board, across to the closet, and ; 
back to the bed again.
    'What did I tell you?' said Dan. 'It was just the water.'