‘I’m sorry.’ I put out my hand and touched the top of his arm. He didn’t shake me off. ‘There’s nothing can be done now. All I can say is, it’s you I want.’

He turned and looked at me hard then, his blue eyes searching mine with frightening intensity. ‘How do I know I can trust you?’

The question grated on me. ‘You can’t know. That’s what trust is about. I shan’t be unfaithful to you.’

We were both very cold and I took his hand and led him to the bed where we got in under the covers. The shock of the sheets made us shudder. I put my arms round him. This was someone I wasn’t used to, this weak, exposed Douglas, deeply insecure. After a moment he laid his head on my chest and I moved my body closer to him.

‘That’s right,’ he said, his sarcasm less wholehearted now. ‘Throw yourself at me.’

Silently I stroked him with my hand until we were both warmer. He began to move his face against my skin.

‘Katie – I want us to be together so much.’

And he began touching me very fast, almost perfunctorily; breasts, stomach, thighs and momentarily between my legs, removing his hand with a jerk as if I’d bitten him. His face was tense.

‘It’s all right,’ I reassured him. I raised my head and pulled him to me, kissing him, trying to inject some warmth into our lovemaking when all I could find was a hurried kind of desperation as if he wanted it over.

His movements became urgent suddenly. He tried to climb on top of me but got caught up in the sheet and had to kneel up to free himself.

‘Lie back,’ he ordered abruptly.

He flung himself on me. ‘Quickly – for God’s sake.’ He was too high, against my stomach and I arched my body under him. But he lay very still suddenly. His face creased, agonized, hands gripping the pillow behind my head.

‘No.’ Now he was almost sobbing. ‘No, no.’ He sank his head down beside me and gave a sigh which I felt right through his body. Gradually I felt the wetness between us. He began to shake and I knew he was crying.

Eventually, raising his head a little he said, ‘I couldn’t have deflowered you anyway, could I?’

We lay there for a long time and I stroked him like a child. He was too deep in his own feelings to notice the tears on my face.

‘Don’t worry, darling,’ I whispered. ‘We’ve got the rest of our lives for this, haven’t we? It’ll get better.’

Chapter 21

It might have got better had things been different. Had it not been for Olivia.

In May, the Kemps sent her away.

‘So where is she?’ I demanded of Elizabeth.

‘She’s having a spell in hospital.’ She had invited me in, but we remained standing in that bleached, fussy drawing-room. She fiddled with a silver cigarette case, turning it round and round in her hands.