Sudden fury flooded over her – a sudden seething fury. She made for the gramophone, yanking the arm upwards. The music cut off with a horrid agonized screech as the needle was dragged across its surface. She almost wanted to cry but wasn’t about to give him that satisfaction. How could he still be holding a grudge from the previous night?
‘What’s the matter with you,’ she hissed. ‘Is it because of last night?’
He continued to sip his whisky, but his eyes, now dull, were gazing up at her from under his brows as she stood over him. ‘What do you want me to say?’ he asked at last.
That he loved her to distraction; that he wanted her this minute; that if she felt so strongly about their being married, he would begin making the arrangements this very weekend; that he was tired of the high life and wished only to settle down and be with her for the rest of their lives?
‘I don’t know,’ she said instead. Then anger took over again, not quite the same as before but more beseeching, her voice beginning to shake. ‘And if you don’t know then what’s the point of me telling you?’
‘I’ve already told you,’ he said, ‘If that’s what you’re getting at, we will get married but not yet. As I said before, we need to see a bit of life first.’
‘We?’ she cried. ‘Don’t you mean you?’
‘All right – me. I need to see a bit of life.’
‘And what about us – how much longer do you expect me to wait for you to settle down?’
Slowly he placed his glass on the little oval side table next to him. ‘I’d rather not discuss it right now, love. We should be getting ready to go out for dinner before the theatre.’ Madeleine stood her ground. ‘I don’t want to go out!’
Anthony stood up, his features set. ‘Then don’t, Maddie! But I still intend to…’
‘And who with?’ She couldn’t help herself. ‘You expect me to believe you’re eager to go out all on your own? There must be someone else.’
‘There is,’ he said evenly, taking her off guard.
‘Who?’ The question wrenched itself from her before she could stop herself. ‘Who is she?’
But although his brows drew together he remained cool. ‘Our friends – the ones who’ll no doubt be asking where you are.’
But he had evaded her question. ‘Don’t lie to me, Tony,’ she said slowly and coldly. ‘There is someone else? What other reason would there be for you not wanting us to get married.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Maddie!’ He’d begun to pace. ‘Why should I want anyone else but you? I love you. I do want to marry you but give me time.’
‘How much more damned time do you need?’ she blared at him, still unwilling to give up. ‘What else should I think when you won’t grant the one thing I want.’ Her voice rose partly in fury, partly in fear. ‘Until you convince me, I’m having no more to do with you!’
Giving him no time to answer she turned and ran from the room in a flood of tears, up to their bedroom and slamming the door behind her. And she didn’t care if the whole house heard her.
Alone, she slowly calmed, all he’d said going through her head; about how he loved her, how devastated he had looked despite refusing to lose his temper – not that he’d ever had a temper – as she rushed from the room leaving him standing there.
But her accusations had left their mark on them both, the silly things she’d come out with returning again and again, and though little was being said about them, the silent thoughts were there, casting a cloud over the love they had once known. Nights were when she – still battling with the suspicion that he was lying to her despite their continuing to appear together in a flurry of social life – would refuse to let him make love to her, though sometimes she ached for him, her love for him as strong as ever.
It was getting more and more worrying, hurtful. They might as well have been married for all the old frantic love-making they’d once indulged in had faded. Yet she still loved him so much that her heart ached. But the seed had been sown; a gulf had come between them and there was nothing she could say or do to bring the two edges together again. A fear was always there – what if he tired of her, left her, driven away by her own intransigence, to actually find someone else? Then again, doubts: did he in fact have someone else? Men could deceive so easily. That pig who’d first got her into trouble, hadn’t she trusted him, been in love with him with no idea that he had been deceiving her all along? Perhaps she had no idea now about Anthony.
As summer progressed her fears finally began to fade. He was being so attentive. As promised, he’d taken her to New York on the Mauritania in August, taking a fortnight off from his bank.
It was the most wonderful holiday she’d ever had, shopping in all the great department stores, money seeming to be no object with him; a theatre almost every night; gloriously warm sunny days spent wandering through, or just sitting in, Battery Park, gazing across the harbour or down the canyon called Lower Broadway; enjoying the excitement of Madison Square Gardens; Coney Island with its seaside amusements, dinner at wonderful restaurants, then back to their hotel after an exhausting day to make love before falling asleep, exhausted.
The only fly in the ointment was that Anthony would still interrupt it to take the usual precautions, frustrating her almost to the limit. But so wonderful was the holiday that she’d bite her tongue from begging him to just let nature take its course. But it was sensible if she thought about it. Why rock the boat when it must
