‘What’s the time?’ she asked.
‘Just before eleven. I wasn’t sure you were awake.’
‘I am now.’ She pushed her resentment away and added, ‘Are you joining me?’
Douglas said nothing, but quickly removed his silk dressing gown, letting it fall in a heap on the floor. He was naked and she averted her eyes as he got into the bed beside her.
This time, although what he did to her was devoid of any tenderness and gave her no pleasure, it was mercifully less painful. When he’d finished, he rolled off her and she realised he intended to go back to his bedroom, back to what she thought of as his shrine to Felicity. ‘Don’t go,’ she said, grabbing his arm. ‘Stay here with me tonight.’
He grunted, but didn’t move from the bed. ‘I thought you’d be more comfortable on your own. Cooler.’
‘No. I’d like you to stay. Please.’ She bit her lip. She ought to feel humiliated having to ask him like that, but she didn’t. She felt defiant. Stronger.
They lay in the dark, side-by-side, divided by silence. Evie hated the way – even after what they’d just done, after the shocking intimacy of the act – he closed himself off from her, cloaking himself in a wordless concealment she couldn’t penetrate. She swallowed. Her stomach felt hollow.
What did she have to lose? The worst he could do was ignore her. If she didn’t try to get through to him now it would be too late. She’d end up in years to come with a husband who came to her bed every couple of weeks, ignoring her the rest of the time.
If she were able to give him the child he wanted, wouldn’t that make a difference? But that might mean he wouldn’t come to her at all. She’d be no different from Aunty Mimi – a servant – just the amah to his children. No. She had to keep trying to break through to him.
Her voice sounded over-loud, echoing hollowly in the darkness of the room. ‘Jasmine seems happy at her new school. It’s bringing her out of her shell. Her teacher is delighted with her progress.’
A grunt.
‘Don’t you care?’
‘Of course I care.’ The mattress shifted as he rolled onto his side. To her relief she realised it was to face her, not turn his back. ‘I’m just tired. Do you have any idea how exhausting that can be for a man? And I’m not as young as I was.’ Even in the darkness she sensed he was smiling.
‘Oh,’ she said, taken aback. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t apologise. I’m glad Jasmine is settling in and that you two are getting along.’ He paused, adding in a softer tone. ‘She needs a mother.’
‘I’ve become fond of her. And I hope she’s getting used to me.’
‘Why do you do that?’
‘Do what?’
‘Run yourself down, make yourself smaller?’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘You admit you’ve become fond of her but only that she is “getting used to you”. Why not say you’ve become fond of each other? I’m sure that’s true. Aunty Mimi seems to think so.’
‘Really?’ Evie felt a rush of pleasure at his words.
‘Yes. Really. But you haven’t answered my question.’
She didn’t know how to answer it. It had taken her by surprise. ‘I don’t know.’ Hesitating, she added, ‘It’s just a manner of speaking.’ She gave a little forced laugh. ‘I suppose I don’t want to count my chickens and all that. Jasmine’s just a child and she might change her feelings… I mean…’
‘Don’t complicate things. She’s fond of you. Leave it at that.’
Evie didn’t know how to respond, so decided not to. She was shocked at what he had said. It had shown a perceptiveness she hadn’t expected from him. He was actually paying attention. Maybe he was right, and she did run herself down. All the years of her mother doing it for her had caused her to assume the worst and do it to herself first. And more recently, Veronica Leighton had worn away what was left of her self-respect like sandpaper scraping on soft wood.
But at least Douglas was talking to her. Listening to her. They had actually had a conversation. Eager not to lose the moment, risk him falling asleep or returning to that other bedroom, Evie asked him how the past two weeks had been for him. She wanted to ask why he had left without telling her, but decided to avoid saying anything he might perceive as confrontational.
‘Just doing my work. You wouldn’t be interested.’
‘But I would. I’d love to know about what you do.’
‘I just plant trees, wait for them to grow, collect the sap from them, turn it into rubber and sell it.’
‘Tell me about it.’
‘Look, Evie, they’re just trees. Go to sleep.’
‘No. I’m interested. Tell me what’s involved.’
Douglas made a sound that she took to signify exasperation. ‘Not a lot to tell. I tap the trees, collect the sap in cans, tip it through strainers and let it coagulate, then turn it into sheets, roll it and squeeze the water out, smoke it for ten days, grade it and sell it.’ He rattled it off like someone reading a manual.
‘You do all that yourself?’
He laughed. Genuine laughter. No note of irritation this time. ‘There are thousands of trees, so no, I don’t harvest them all myself. I employ hundreds of coolies to do that.’
‘So what do you do? Just watch them?’
His tone was sarcastic more than annoyed. ‘Yes, sometimes I just watch them working. Make sure they’re doing it right.’
‘You’re laughing at me,’ she said.
‘I do a lot of other things too.’
‘Like what?’
He gave a long sigh, which Evie took to signify resignation, and said, ‘It’s like the army. I inspect the troops, issue orders, ensure they have the right kit to get the job done, that morale is high, that discipline is maintained, that they’re rewarded or punished as appropriate.’
‘Were you in the war? I never asked you.’
‘Yes. One of the lucky ones.’
She was about to ask him to elaborate,
