Comparative Strangers

CHAPTER TWO

AMANDA SAID, ‘Why did you come back?’

‘In actual fact, I never went away.’

They sat facing each other across the kitchen table.

Malory went on, ‘I simply drove my car round to the back lane, and walked up through the kitchen garden.’

Amanda said stonily, ‘I asked you to leave. I thought you had left.’

He gave her a weary look. ‘Yes, I know, and you don’t need a minder, and you’re no longer suicidal. But that wasn’t all of it. I’d gathered you intended to give Nigel his marching orders, and I wasn’t sure how he’d take that. I wanted to make certain there was no—rough stuff.’

Colour rose hotly in Amanda’s face. ‘That’s an abominable insinuation to make!’

‘Then I withdraw it unreservedly,’ he said calmly. ‘Nigel would have taken your dismissal on the chin, and left like a lamb without my unwarranted intervention.’ He paused. ‘Wouldn’t he?’

Amanda bit her lip and didn’t reply. At last, she said curtly, ‘Hardly very dignified, skulking in someone’s kitchen. Supposing I’d come in and found you?’

He shrugged. ‘We’d be having this conversation then, rather than now.’

‘You think you have an answer for everything, don’t you?’ she said crossly.

He shook his head. ‘On the contrary. But I have had the advantage of knowing Nigel for the past twenty-six years, which gives me an insight into the way he’s likely to respond to any given situation.’ Another pause. ‘Which is why I don’t think you should be alone tonight.’

‘My God!’ Amanda’s brows lifted contemptuously. ‘You really believe in putting the boot in, don’t you? What do you imagine he’ll do? Come back and rape me?’

‘I didn’t say that.’

‘And if I say I don’t want you here?’ she bit back at him. ‘What then? After all, I hardly know you. For all I know, you might be planning to rape me yourself.’

‘How very true,’ he said. ‘What a fascinating night it promises to be.’ There was an icy distaste in his voice which got to her.

She mumbled, ‘I’m sorry. That was—a stupid thing to say. I’m still not thinking very clearly.’ She made herself meet his gaze. ‘But I can’t honestly put you to any more trouble. I—I’m sure you mean well …’ She stopped again. ‘Oh, God, that sounds even worse. What I’m trying to say is, you must have plans of your own for this evening, and I’ll be all right—really.’ It sounded lame, and she knew it, but she wasn’t even convinced herself. She was tense and on edge, emotionally vulnerable. The last thing she needed, or wanted, was to be alone.

She found herself saying reluctantly, ‘Although there is the spare bedroom …’

‘Then it’s settled.’ His tone was matter of fact, without a trace of smugness. ‘Now, let’s get down to practicalities. Did you leave your keys in the car, or were you planning to jump with them?’

She gaped at him for a moment. ‘Oh—they’re still in the ignition.’

He nodded. ‘Then I’d better walk down to the bridge and bring the car back, before someone takes a fancy to it. Shall I put it away for you in the garage?’

It had to be one of the most bizarre conversations she’d ever taken part in! She wondered crazily what he’d have done with the damned car if she had really jumped, then pulled herself together.

‘Er—yes, please.’ She paused. ‘And I’ll make a meal for us.’ Nigel had always been incredibly fussy about food, requiring even a simple steak to be cooked to the exact minute he specified. Perhaps it was a family trait. ‘Have you any particular likes or dislikes?’

He said politely, ‘I don’t think so. Whatever’s going will be fine.’

Neutral could well be his middle name, Amanda thought crossly when he’d gone.

Her mother invariably left the refrigerator stocked as if for a siege, and Amanda extracted some lamb chops and the ingredients for a salad, before scrubbing two large potatoes, wrapping them in foil, and putting them in the Aga to bake.

She wondered whether Malory would expect to be entertained formally in the dining-room, and decided to pre-empt the issue by laying the kitchen table.

She still wasn’t sure why he was staying, or why she was allowing it, but she had a feeling it was going to be a long, awkward evening. Perhaps a drink might ease the situation, Amanda thought, although he’d probably opt for a small, dry sherry. She decided she’d better go along to the drawing-room, and see what there was. As she went through the hall, the telephone rang.

Her heart sank. Mother, she thought. Somehow, she was going to have to break the news that all the wedding arrangements undertaken so far were going to have to be cancelled. She only hoped Mrs Conroy hadn’t bought her outfit yet.

Sighing, she lifted the receiver and gave the number. But, instead of the excited rush of feminine chatter she’d expected, she found herself greeted by a profound silence. Puzzled, she gave the number again, and jiggled the rest. But the silence continued.

She said rather doubtfully, ‘Hello—can you hear me?’ Still nothing. But it wasn’t a dead silence, she realised. It was very much alive, because she could hear the faint sound of breathing at the other end.

Amanda’s nose wrinkled, and she slammed the receiver back on the rest, just as Malory walked back through the front door. He gave her a surprised look.

‘Is something the matter?’

‘Not really,’ she said tautly. ‘Just a crank phone call.’ She managed a smile. ‘And all in silence, too. I didn’t even manage to learn any useful obscenities.’

He glanced at the phone, his brows drawing together in a swift frown. ‘Well, I know a fair number. You’d better let me answer next time.’

‘Oh, there won’t be a next time.’ Amanda tried to sound breezy. ‘Once they realise you’re not going to flip, they try someone else.’

‘You’ve experienced this type of thing before?’

‘Loads of times,’ she lied. ‘Would you like a drink?’

Malory shrugged off his overcoat. ‘Thanks, I’ll have a large whisky.’ He gave her an enquiring glance. ‘Have I said something funny?’

‘Oh, no.’ Amanda swallowed. ‘You’re just—rather unexpected sometimes.’

‘Having always believed I was all too predictable, I’ll take that as a compliment.’ The phone rang again, and he reached for it, saying curtly, ‘Hello?’

If that’s Mother, she’ll have a heart attack, Amanda thought faintly. But she could hear no outraged squeaks. She looked at Malory, her eyes mutely enquiring, and he nodded. He was leaning against the hall table, looking very relaxed, a thumb hooked into the belt of his trousers. And he continued to stand there as minute after minute ticked past.

At last he said smoothly into the mouthpiece, ‘I’m prepared to stand here all night, if that’s what you want.’ He replaced the receiver with a slight grimace. ‘Our caller rang off,’ he said. ‘I think only one can play this particular game.’ He gave Amanda a long look. ‘Well?’

She bit her lip. ‘It’s a crank, I tell you.’

Malory shrugged. ‘Anything you say. Now, how about that drink?’

He followed her into the drawing-room, and watched as she poured a generous measure into a crystal tumbler, adding a splash of soda at his direction.

She said passionately, ‘It isn’t Nigel. It isn’t!’

He lifted his glass to her with an ironic glance. ‘Here’s to loyalty, however misplaced.’

She said, her voice shaking, ‘You really hate him, don’t you?’

He considered that for a moment or two, then said, ‘No.’

‘Then why are you so down on him—imagining that he would do anything as childish as those phone calls?’

‘Because it’s the kind of mischief he used to revel in,’ Malory said, after another pause.

‘In the past, maybe.’ Amanda shrugged that away. ‘But you haven’t lived under the same roof with Nigel for a long time now. He’s changed. He’s grown up. Can’t you understand that?’

‘There was certainly room for some maturity,’ Malory agreed caustically, ‘but his recent behaviour doesn’t show much evidence of it.’

It was infuriating not to be able to contradict him flatly, and Amanda seethed in silence.

Finally she said, ‘Are you sure you’re not just jealous—because the lady you wanted preferred Nigel?’

‘Oh, I’m jealous all right.’ He was smiling faintly as he said it, but Amanda felt a small frisson of something like fear shiver its way down her spine. ‘In fact, I don’t think I shall ever forgive him for it.’

She felt as if the cool, civilised mask had slipped for a moment, and it disturbed her. He had definitely cared for Clare more than she’d realised, she decided, and was brought, reeling, back to the conventional world by his polite, ‘Do you mind if I switch on the television?’

She said hastily, ‘Do—please,’ and beat a retreat back to the kitchen.

It was becoming evident that Malory Templeton was something of an enigma, she realised as she made the vinaigrette dressing for the salad. She had never thought Nigel and his half-brother were over-fond of each other, but now it seemed her erstwhile fiancé had made himself a real enemy.

‘This is a charming house,’ Malory commented later as they ate the blackberry ice-cream Amanda had produced from the freezer for dessert. ‘Do you live here all the time?’

She shook her head. ‘Mostly, I live in London. I share a flat with three other girls.’ She smiled faintly. ‘But I come down here every chance I get.’

‘I’m not surprised. Has your mother been alone for some time?’

‘Yes, Daddy died four years ago of a heart attack. It was—very sudden.’

‘They often are,’ he said. ‘My father died of the same thing, but in his case he had a number of advance warnings—all of which he chose to ignore.’ He sounded rueful.

‘Do you miss him?’

‘Yes, I do,’ he admitted. ‘We weren’t very close when I was a child, but we became friends as I got older.’ He paused. ‘Particularly after my stepmother disappeared from the scene.’

‘You didn’t like her?’

‘When she married my father I was prepared to worship her.’ He shook his head. ‘She was quite the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my life. But it didn’t take long to discover that she didn’t want my adoration, or any other part of me. However, I even forgave her that when she had Nigel. I’d always wanted a younger brother.’

‘Then it’s a pity you haven’t—a closer relationship now,’ she said stiltedly.

‘There was never really an opportunity,’ he said. ‘Camilla had decided in advance I was going to be jealous of her baby, and would probably try to harm him in some way, so every attempt I made to approach him was regarded with the gravest suspicion. I was shunted away to school as soon as was decently possible, and Nigel didn’t even follow me there. We grew up like parallel lines—close but never meeting. By the time we did get to know one another, it was to discover how very little we had in common.’

‘That’s a pity.’

He shrugged. ‘That’s the way it goes.’ He looked at her. ‘You’re an only child?’

She nodded. ‘Didn’t Nigel tell you?’

‘He actually told me very little about you, except that you were engaged, accompanied by a reluctant invitation to meet you and your mother.’

Amanda smiled wryly. ‘That was a rather heavy evening. I had the feeling you didn’t altogether approve of me.’

‘That would have been very presumptuous of me.’ He added, after a pause, ‘I think I was merely amazed that Nigel had decided to settle down. Also, we’d had a row on the way here. Nigel is due to inherit some shares in the company on his marriage, and he wanted to push matters forward. I had to tell him it couldn’t be done, and he wasn’t very pleased. He thought I should have bent the rules in his favour.’

‘Could you have done so?’ she asked gravely.

He said, ‘No,’ and there was a silence. Then he said. ‘May I help with the washing up?’

‘There isn’t any. I simply load the dishwasher.’ Amanda got up. ‘And, as it’s rather ancient and temperamental, it prefers a hand it knows.’

‘Then I’ll make the coffee,’ he said promptly. He had beautiful teeth when he smiled, she noticed. ‘Don’t look so stunned, Amanda. I’m reasonably house-trained. If you’ll show me where the sheets and blankets are kept, I’ll even make up my own bed.’

‘It’s already done,’ she began, and paused as the phone began to ring again.

‘Load the dishwasher,’ Malory said. ‘I’ll answer it.’

Amanda found that her hands were trembling as she scraped the dishes and put them into the machine.

‘Wrong number,’ Malory said briefly when he returned, but she didn’t believe him.

They drank their coffee in the drawing-room, watching a re-run of The French Connection. Watching Malory covertly, Amanda decided that the violence of the New York drugs scene must be as far removed from his environment as it was possible to get.

‘He’s got a bijou residence where he’s waited on hand and foot by devoted retainers,’ Nigel had told her once, derisively. ‘And when he’s not at the labs trying to produce a wonder-drug that will cure every known disease, he’s in his box at the opera. Coming into contact with the real world must be a hell of a shock to his system. Fortunately for him, he doesn’t have to do it very often.’

But today’s events had been the real world with a vengeance, Amanda thought with a little sigh, which she hastily converted into a yawn as he looked at her.

‘You’re tired?’

‘I think I must be.’ It wasn’t strictly the truth, but she was eager to go upstairs and shut her door. The evening had turned into a rather unnerving experience, and it wasn’t altogether due to the crank calls. Sharing this kind of intimacy with Malory was—strange, and she would be glad when it was over.

She had tried phoning her mother earlier, but there was no reply, and she guessed that she and Elaine had gone to the theatre. I’ll have to get through to her in the morning, she thought.

And then, slowly and painfully, she would try to get her life back on to an even keel again—learning to live without Nigel.

She yawned ostentatiously, and got to her feet. ‘Well—goodnight. I hope you have everything you need.’ She tried a smile. ‘I’m sorry I can’t provide pyjamas.’

‘That’s no sacrifice. I never wear them.’ He had risen, too, and was walking over to her. Amanda had kicked off her shoes as she often did, and she felt oddly dwarfed suddenly.

He said quietly, ‘Goodnight, Amanda, sleep well.’ And for one brief, troubled moment, she thought he was going to kiss her, and her whole body went into shock at the idea.

She found she was backing away, babbling something incoherent about the spark-guard for the fire, and fled.

She was still awake an hour later when he came upstairs to bed, but he passed her door without hesitating, and she lay in the darkness, castigating herself for having behaved like an idiot in front of him, yet again.

She was just asking herself for the umpteenth time where the harm would have been in a brief, farewell peck on the cheek, and still receiving no satisfactory answer, when she fell asleep.

The crash seemed to shatter the room. For one terrified, screaming moment, Amanda thought the cottage had been bombed, then she made herself reach for the switch of the bedside lamp, realising as she did so that a strong current of cold air was reaching her from somewhere.

As the lamp came on, she cried out. There was a gaping hole in the middle of her window-pane, and a half-brick lay on the carpet, surrounded by shards of broken glass. There were even some splinters on her duvet, she realised, shuddering.

Her door opened, and Malory put his head, and one bare, surprisingly muscular, shoulder into the room.

‘What the hell was that?’ he demanded, then stopped. ‘Christ!’

‘Don’t come in.’ Amanda’s voice shook. ‘There’s glass everywhere.’

‘I’ve no intention of coming in until I’ve put something on,’ he said curtly. ‘In the meantime, stay exactly where you are.’

He was back, it seemed, within seconds, still fastening his zip as he came into the room.

Amanda said with a little sob, ‘It must be vandals.’

‘Of course.’ His voice was heavily ironic. ‘There are always hordes of them at this time of year.’ He looked around him. ‘Where are your slippers?’

‘With your pyjamas.’

His mouth tightened. ‘Then it seems I’ll have to provide transport.’ As he approached the bed, Amanda could hear glass scrunching under his feet. He leaned down and pulled back the duvet. ‘Put your arms round my neck, and I’ll carry you,’ he directed.

‘Carry me where?’ Amanda made an unavailing snatch at the duvet, thankful that her nightgown had been bought for cosiness rather than glamour.

‘To the room I’m using,’ he said, rather too patiently.

She swallowed. ‘But where will you go?’

‘I’ll clear up the glass and fasten something over that window, then spend what remains of the night in here.’ He paused. ‘Or have you some objection?’

She said, ‘Aren’t you going to see if you can find—whoever did this?’

His mouth twisted. “‘Whoever” is probably in a car, and well away by this time. I’m not embarking on any wild-goose chase at this hour of the morning. Now, shall we make a start?’ He bent towards her and, reluctantly, Amanda allowed herself to be lifted out of bed and into his arms.

He wasn’t anywhere near as effete as she’d thought, she discovered with amazement. He’d picked her up without the slightest effort, and she could feel the play of his muscles under her hand as she steadied herself.

On the landing, she said, ‘There isn’t any glass here, so you can put me down,’ and he obeyed so promptly it was almost an insult.

He said prosaically, ‘Where will I find a dustpan and brush?’

‘In the kitchen cupboard, next to the back door.’ She moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue. ‘And there are some cardboard boxes, too, that you might be able to use to cover the window.’ She put a hand to her head. ‘Oh, this is all crazy! None of it can be happening.’

‘Of course it isn’t.’ Malory gave her a gentle push in the direction of the spare room. ‘Now, go and get some rest and tell yourself in the morning that it’s all been a bad dream.’

But she couldn’t relax. Lying in the warm hollow his body had created, Amanda listened tensely to the sounds of movement along the passage. When they eventually ceased, she called to him.

‘What’s the matter?’ He came to stand in the doorway.

‘I’m frightened.’ Her teeth were chattering, but not because she was cold. ‘Do you think he—they will come back?’

If he’d noticed that revealing self-correction, he made no comment. ‘I don’t think so. I imagine the purpose of the exercise—to give you a good fright—has been achieved.’

She stared at him. ‘You really do think it’s Nigel, don’t you?’

‘Yes.’ His voice was matter of fact.

‘It can’t be!’ she denied vehemently. ‘No grown man could be so—childish.’

He smiled. ‘I don’t think you can have known a great many grown men,’ he said with a touch of cynicism. ‘But perhaps we could continue this debate in the morning. I’d like to get some sleep.’

A voice she hardly recognised as hers said, ‘I don’t want to be on my own. Stay with me—please?’ She saw the blank incredulity in his face and began to stammer, ‘I—I don’t mean …’

He said rather drily, ‘I’m sure you don’t.’ He hesitated. ‘Very well, Amanda. I should have realised that appointing myself your guardian would have its drawbacks.’ He walked over to the bed. ‘At the same time, I hope you don’t think I plan to spend the rest of the night in that chair or on the floor.’ He kicked off his shoes, and lay down beside her, on top of the quilt. ‘This seems a suitably chaste arrangement under the circumstances.’

She ventured, ‘But won’t you be rather cold? You can use the duvet, if you want.’

He said evenly, ‘No, thank you. Don’t push your luck, Amanda. In spite of anything Nigel may have told you, I am not a eunuch.’ He reached out and switched off the lamp. ‘Now, go to sleep.’

Face burning, she mumbled, ‘Goodnight.’

She must be completely insane, she thought, asking Malory to share a bed with her like this, but the prospect of lying alone in the darkness, waiting for the next unnerving incident, was more than she could bear. She hadn’t really stopped to consider Malory’s feelings or reactions at all.

Yet she couldn’t deny the reassurance of the weight of his body beside her on the bed, and the steadiness of his breathing. She didn’t feel she deserved this kindness from him, but it seemed to be there for her, just the same.

With a little sigh, she closed her eyes, and within a few minutes, against all her expectations, was fast asleep.

She awoke slowly the next morning to the aroma of frying bacon, and lay for a few minutes staring at her unfamiliar surroundings, wondering confusedly why she wasn’t in her own room. Then remembrance flooded back, and she shot out of bed and down the passage to her doorway.

The square of cardboard over the broken window was like some grim exclamation mark, she thought, as she trod with care to the wardrobe and extracted jeans and a sweater. She washed and dressed swiftly, and ran downstairs.

Malory was seated at the kitchen table. The smile he sent her was polite, but guarded. ‘I was just coming to wake you,’ he said. ‘Your breakfast is keeping warm.’