‘I don’t know what to say, Evie. He’s behaving like an absolute cad. I can only think that he’s afraid.’

‘Afraid?’ She could hear the pitch of her voice rising. ‘Afraid of what?’

‘You, I expect. Strange as that may seem. He’s been through a lot with Felicity dying. Maybe he’s anxious about spending time alone with you. He’s not a sociable man. He’s used to his own company.’

Evie wiped her eyes but more tears were coming. Her lace-edged handkerchief was already sodden.

‘Come on. Let’s get you in the car. Benny’s parked at the front.’ He handed her his own handkerchief. ‘Dry your eyes. I’m going to head back to the bar when you’ve gone. I’m going to try and talk some sense into the man. Don’t worry, Evie. I’m sure things will soon settle down. Just give it time.’

5

Jasmine had already eaten and gone to bed when Evie sat down to her solitary dinner. She shuffled the food around her plate unable to eat. Afterwards, too angry even to read a book, she retired early to bed in the guest room as usual.

Under the flimsy sheet and shrouded by the mosquito nets, she struggled to sleep. She longed for oblivion – a few hours where she could escape into dreams, hopefully ones unpopulated by Douglas Barrington. She didn’t want to think about him, about this godforsaken country or the loathsome people at the club. The dreams she craved were of the English countryside, of leafy lanes dappled with sunshine, cows and sheep grazing in green fields, the sound of woodpeckers, the pealing of bells for the Sunday service. Not this infernal heat and not the horrible events of this, her wedding day.

But sleep evaded her. Evie lay awake, rolling from one side to the other, sheets damp with her perspiration, mind racing. Her heart hammered in her chest and her nerves were so raw that her skin felt tight and her pulse throbbed at her temples. All the time she saw Douglas Barrington’s face. Her husband’s face. The face of the man who had stood beside her repeating the marriage vows, before abandoning her in search of comfort from a bottle, rather than from her.

She punched the pillow. Why, why, why had she ever agreed to go through with this horrible loveless marriage? It couldn’t even be described as a marriage of convenience when it clearly was anything but convenient to the groom. What had Douglas hoped to gain from it? If he wanted children, standing around in a bar pouring whisky down his throat was hardly the way to conceive them. Was she so horrible, so unappealing that he couldn’t even bear to be in her company on their wedding day? How did he think all those mean-minded people at the Penang Club would react to knowing he was getting drunk while his new bride was alone at home? She had never been so utterly humiliated in her entire life. Surely he too would be the subject of inevitable gossip.