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She could only hope that, now she was actually Malory’s wife, Mrs Conroy would abandon her attempts to bring about a reconciliation between Nigel and herself. And that Nigel, too, would finally admit defeat, and keep out of her life, she thought, a little knot of wretchedness lodging itself in the region of her breastbone. However determinedly she might fill her days, there were still the nights to get through, when she lay staring into the darkness, her mind filled with an odd restlessness.
Amanda looked at the sky, its serenity pierced and transformed by the setting sun into a richness of purple and crimson shot with gold. All the colours, she thought with a little sigh, of the exquisite, filmy sarong she was wearing over her bikini.
It was the most exotic thing she’d ever possessed, and she would never have dreamed of buying such a thing for herself, only Malory had insisted. It had been entirely his own choice, and the nearest to a romantic gesture he’d made during their whole stay.
For which she could only be grateful, she told herself resolutely. Because, in spite of his forbearance, his care to leave her to her own devices as much as possible, she had been aware, when she was with him, of little pangs of yearning and regret which had a danger all their own. It was the atmosphere of the place getting to her, she thought. Brilliant sunlit days, and sultry moonlit nights were bound to have an effect eventually, and perhaps it was just as well they were flying back tomorrow.
She felt a small frisson of awareness, and, glancing back towards the gardens which bordered the beach, saw Malory standing under a tree, watching her.
She lifted a hand rather uncertainly in greeting, and he began to walk over the pale sand towards her. He’d never disturbed her at this special time before. Usually, when she got back to the bungalow to change for dinner, he was sitting on the small veranda, reading or enjoying a reflective drink. It was the first time he’d sought her out like this.
‘Is something wrong?’ She came out of the water.
‘Not a thing.’ Malory smiled at her. ‘It seems a dance troupe are going to perform the Ramayana ballet after dinner tonight, and I wondered if you’d like to see it. If not, we could always eat somewhere else.’
‘Oh, no, I’d love it.’ Amanda had found herself entranced by the colour and artistry of the Balinese myths and legends portrayed in their dances. ‘Will it be those gorgeous children again, I wonder?’ She paused. ‘But, of course, you’ve seen it all before. We don’t have to…’
‘I didn’t realise I was such a killjoy,’ Malory cut rather drily across her stilted words.
‘You’re not,’ Amanda protested swiftly. ‘But you didn’t want to see any of the temples, or the craft villages…’
‘Because I didn’t want to inflict my undiluted company on you all day and every day,’ he said without rancour.
‘Oh—heavens,’ Amanda stammered. ‘I—I hope you haven’t been too bored.’
‘Certainly not,’ he said. ‘It’s been a hell of year, and I’ve enjoyed the chance to relax.’ He sounded maddeningly matter of fact.
Her shrug tried to match his tone. ‘That’s what holidays are for.’ The movement of her shoulders made her sarong slip a little, and she clutched at it with unwarranted haste. Surely she’d got over feeling self-conscious about appearing before Malory in her bikini by now, she castigated herself, as she retied the knot, aware that he was watching her hurried movements with a faint smile.
She began to babble. ‘I came down to watch my last sunset.’ She gestured to where the sky was beginning to deepen to indigo. ‘Isn’t that the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?’
‘Yes.’
There was an odd note in the quiet voice, and she glanced at him to discover, with shock, that he wasn’t looking at the sunset at all, but at her. And he wasn’t smiling, either. There was a kind of brooding stillness in his face that started her heart knocking unevenly against her ribcage. Even in the bungalow at night, she realised confusedly, they had never seemed so—alone as they were now.
She stepped backwards, stumbling a little in the soft sand. Her voice shook as she said, I’d better go and change for dinner.‘
‘It might be best,’ he agreed expressionlessly. ‘I’ll see you later.‘
She had to overcome a strong urge to run away from him up the beach. As she wrestled her sandals on to her sandy feet, she told herself she was being ridiculous. Malory was entitled to look at her if he wanted to. He’d paid, after all, for every stitch she was wearing. And her bikini, though brief, was quite decent. None of which explained why she’d felt so vulnerable—and naked, suddenly.
