Newlyweds of Convenience

had tidied up and disappeared to his survey.

Having wrinkled her nose at the state of it when she was getting dressed that morning, Mallory decided to tackle the bedroom first. She found a pair of rubber gloves, pushed up the sleeves of her fleece and pulled the bed into the centre of the room with a determined expression. If she was going to do this, she would do it properly.

When Torr came to find her a few hours later she was on her knees, wiping down the skirting board with a damp cloth. It was always so cold when she was dressing and undressing that she hadn’t wasted time inspecting the room properly, and when she did, she was horrified that she had actually spent two nights in it.

She had spent the morning brushing down spiders’ webs, sweeping under the bed and vacuuming every inch of the floor. She had emptied out the musty wardrobe, and removed the old newspapers that lined the drawers in the chest. Most of them were dated 1976, and, judging by the accumulated dust and dirt, Mallory wouldn’t have been at all surprised to discover that was the last time the room had been cleaned at all.

Now the furniture had been wiped and polished, the window was clean, and she was just about to wash the floor. It was dirty work, and she had soon removed her fleece, so her T-shirt was looking distinctly grubby.

Torr paused in the doorway. ‘I’ve put the kettle on. Do you want some lunch?’

‘That sounds great.’ Mallory sat back on her heels and wiped the hair from her forehead with the back of her arm, unaware that she was leaving a dusty smear. ‘I’ve just finished.’

Looking around the room, Torr’s gaze came back to rest on her face, and one corner of his mouth quirked. The silky dark hair was tied back in a ponytail, but stray strands were sticking to her forehead and there were smudges of dirt on her nose and cheeks. She was almost unrecognisable from the stylish and immaculate interior designer he had first met.

‘Quite a transformation,’ he said.

She got to her feet and brushed the knees of her jeans. ‘It was absolutely disgusting,’ she told him.

‘Actually, I was thinking about you.’

‘Oh.’ Mallory laughed awkwardly and grimaced as she looked down at her filthy T-shirt. ‘I must look a complete mess!’

‘I was just thinking that you look better than I’ve ever seen you,’ said Torr slowly.

There was a tiny pause. Her eyes met his, only to skitter away. ‘What, with spiders’ webs in my hair, smut on my nose and dirty jeans?’

‘Even with all of that.’

‘You’ve done a good job in here,’ said Torr that night, as he sat on the edge of the bed to take off his socks. He looked around him. ‘It’s not a bad room now you can see it properly. It seems twice as big, for a start.’

‘I know.’ Mallory propped herself up on one elbow to survey the results of her hard work with some satisfaction. She had washed the walls as well as the floor, before packing away their clothes in the newly polished chest of drawers and the rickety old wardrobe, which had had an airing for the first time in years. Even in the feeble light of the overhead bulb the room seemed fresher and cleaner and tidier, and bigger, as Torr had said. It smelt better, too.

‘All it needs now is a lick of paint,’ she said. ‘I thought I would do the bathroom and the kitchen as well. It would make all the difference.’

‘Good idea,’ said Torr. ‘Let’s get some paint in Inverness next week.’

Mallory brightened and pulled herself higher on her pillows, momentarily forgetting the awkwardness of going to bed with him. ‘What about a couple of bedside lamps? They would make the room look so much nicer, and it would save you groping your way to bed in the dark.’

‘Get whatever you want,’ said Torr, hoicking his jumper off by the scruff of its neck. ‘In fact, you’d better start a list. We won’t be able to go very often, so we’d better make the most of it.’

‘If I get whatever I want it’s going to be very long list,’ said Mallory, to distract herself from fact that Torr was taking off his trousers without the slightest embarrassment.

She was tempted to duck back under the duvet, but it was too late to pretend that she was asleep, and anyway, it seemed a bit silly. It hadn’t been an uncomfortable evening. There had been that moment before lunch, when something had flared in the air between them, but then Torr had turned away, talking about sandwiches, and it had gone. Lunch had been easy, and that evening they had cooked a meal together and then shared another warming whisky in front of the fire. Mallory had let herself believe that everything would be all right after all. It hadn’t even been that awkward coming to bed tonight, so it would be a shame to spoil the atmosphere now by suddenly turning coy.

‘What more could you want when you’ve got all this?’ said Torr, gesturing ironically around the room as he went over to switch off the light.

‘It’s paradise as it is, I know,’ she told him in the same spirit, ‘but perhaps just one or two tiny things-a heater, for instance, and a lampshade, a blind, a new mattress, a rug, a chair, a dirty clothes basket, a mirror-would make it even more perfect.’

‘If you’re thinking of getting all that, we’d better take the trailer!’

The light snapped off and the room was plunged into darkness. Mallory held her breath, waiting for Torr to get into bed beside her, and when she felt the mattress sag she exhaled very slowly. It was all very well, making practical arrangements and talking about being friends, but the physical reality of a man in your bed was hard to ignore.

She cleared her throat. ‘It wouldn’t take that much to make ourselves more comfortable. An electric blanket- that’s another thing,’ she remembered, because somehow it seemed easier to talk than to lie there thinking about how close he was, and wondering whether she would be able to press into his warmth again. Would he turn his back to her, like last night?

Torr was making himself comfortable, thumping his pillow into shape. ‘What on earth do you want an electric blanket for?’

‘Why do you think? It’s freezing in here!’

‘But you’ve got me to keep you warm,’ Torr pointed out.

There was a shade of reproach in his voice, and Mallory wished that she could see his face. She thought he was teasing, but she wasn’t quite sure. Not that she could ever tell what he was thinking by looking at him anyway. Torr was inscrutability personified.

Strange to think that before they’d come here it would never have occurred to her that he might be teasing, that a sardonic sense of humour lay behind the austere mask he wore. They had been strangers until now, going through the motions of a marriage, he grim and distant, she wrapped in frozen misery. Less than a week at Kincaillie, and they had both changed.

‘If we had an electric blanket I’d be warm enough to stay on my own side of the bed, and I’m sure you’d be a lot more comfortable.’

‘I’m sure I would be, too.’ There it was again, that undercurrent of dry amusement. Had it always been there? Mallory wondered. Perhaps she just hadn’t been listening for it before. ‘Our marriage may not be very exciting or passionate,’ he said, ‘but at least it could be about keeping each other warm.’

Mallory wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about that. Of course she was relieved that Torr had accepted her reluctance to sleep with him so completely, but did that mean he found her unexciting too?

Still, she could hardly start objecting to the lack of passion and excitement between them now. ‘We should have made it part of our new agreement,’ she said, trying to match his tone, but not really succeeding. She had a nasty feeling she just sounded petulant instead.

‘Agreement?’ Torr’s voice came out of the darkness.

‘The one where I stay for a year,’ she reminded him a little tartly. How many agreements did they have, after all?

‘Oh, that agreement,’ said Torr. ‘Yes, perhaps we should add a clause. Clause seven (b), subsection (iv): no sex, but entitled to use each other as substitute for hot water bottle. And talking of hot water bottles,’ he went on, shifting on his side to face her, ‘we may as well get settled now. Come here.’

In spite of herself, Mallory tensed as he reached for her, and all the breath whooshed out of her at the touch of his hands. ‘Now you won’t need to come creeping up to me like you did last night, will you?’ he said in her ear.

‘You were asleep!’ she protested involuntarily.

‘Not all the time.’ Torr shifted to make himself comfortable, and tucked her closer into the curve of his body.