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Wasn’t he? she appealed to that cold, ironic little moon, then turned away, thankful that she was alone. Because, if Malory had been with her, she knew that, on this island for lovers, she would have been tempted to go into his arms.
And that, of course, was impossible even to contemplate.
Could there be a damper, bleaker month than January? Amanda asked herself in exasperation as she marched across the soggy field in Harvey’s eager wake. And could there be a worse day to spend on one’s own than Sunday?
Although, of course, she wasn’t entirely alone, she amended. The Priddys were there, and she had Harvey, who was currently investigating a ditch with the enthusiasm of a dog who has just discovered some particularly noisome unpleasantness.
She called him to heel and he came, looking so consciously virtuous that Amanda forgot to be grumpy, and burst out laughing. ‘You fraud,’ she told him, rubbing the top of his head. ‘As soon as your master gets back from his trip, you know quite well you’ll give me the elbow.’
She had spent a considerable part of the past six weeks waiting for Malory to return from some journey or another. She’d told herself it was only to be expected, then heard Mrs Priddy declare one day to George that she’d never known Dr Templeton spend so much time away from home before.
Amanda whisked herself out of earshot before the good woman was tempted to speculate on the cause. It was naturally never referred to, but Amanda knew the housekeeper was still reeling from the separate bedrooms issue.
She sighed as she unhitched the gate that led into the lane. Life had been far from easy since she had returned from their honeymoon. She’d decided to leave work, or perhaps it was fairer to say work had decided to leave her, since she’d discovered, on presenting herself back at the office, that her successor was being briskly trained. Jeffrey had been frankly and brutally chauvinistic about his reasons. ‘I want a girl who can keep her mind on her job, not a dewy-eyed bride planning the evening dinner for two,’ he’d told her. ‘But there’s a spot in personnel you can have until you get pregnant’
She had thanked him quietly, and handed in her notice. She’d observed in the past that Jeffrey never had married women working in his department, but it had never occurred to her that his prejudice could apply to her. One of these days, she thought, he would end up in front of an industrial tribunal.
And now she had to adapt herself to the slower pace of life at Aylesford Green. She had discovered almost at once that Malory had been telling no less than the truth when he’d said he needed a hostess. There had been a number of drinks parties and dinners over the Christmas period, and she felt she’d handled them with aplomb. Certainly, he’d ventured no criticism. Well, at least she could play that particular role for him, she thought with a little sigh. And it seemed to be all he wanted from her. She closed the gate, and let Harvey run ahead of her, along the verge towards the house.
The realisation that Malory might be deliberately avoiding her had been a disturbing one. She had found herself wondering more than once if he’d decided their hasty marriage had been a fatal mistake, and whether his frequent absences were a hint that he was planning to end it as soon as decently possible. But what was a suitable time-span for a marriage which had never really begun? Amanda asked herself restlessly.
To her bewilderment, she had discovered that the house seemed barely alive when Malory was away. Not that he sought her company particularly when he did come home, she reminded herself wryly. And, when they were together, he was polite, but aloof.
She’d been amazed, too, to find that when he was expected back she was on edge, watching the windows, listening for the sound of his car. She made sure also that Mrs Priddy had cooked something he particularly liked for dinner, and found herself taking extra trouble with her clothes and make-up. Not, she thought, that he ever seemed to notice. The last time he had looked at her—really looked—had been that evening on the beach in Bali. Maybe she should turn up the central heating, and greet him in her bikini and sarong, Amanda suggested to herself, digging her hands into the pockets of her sheepskin coat.
Or maybe she should remember why they had got married in the first place, and stop trying to attract his attention in any degree. After all, what did it matter whether he noticed her, or what he thought about her? She’d wanted a refuge from Nigel, and he’d wanted a hostess, so they should both be perfectly satisfied.
But I’m not a bit content, she thought morosely. And I’m not sleeping properly, either. You could store potatoes in the bags under my eyes. And it’s always worse when he’s away, because I can’t stop remembering what he said about not staying celibate and—imagining things.
