‘How would I know?’ I asked. ‘Isn’t there a map on one of those brochures?’
He rummaged around in his coat pocket and pulled out a whole bundle of them, then began opening them up and quickly scanning through them, passing each one to me as he discarded it.
I watched him in bewilderment, wondering what on earth he was so het up about now.
‘We are!’ he said at last, holding up a map of the Harling Estate. ‘And look! The train station’s part of the estate, too. See? Harling’s Halt. It falls within the boundary.’
I frowned. ‘So what?’
‘So what?’ He stared at me as if I were insane for a moment then nodded. ‘Yes, you’re right. It doesn’t matter, does it?’
‘Not in the slightest.’
‘And it’s on the very edge anyway, so as soon as the train starts going, we’ll be out of the estate, you see?’
‘And that matters because…?’
‘I’m just telling you!’ he said indignantly. ‘I thought you’d be interested.’
‘In land boundaries? Funnily enough I’m not particularly bothered.’
‘I was just making conversation.’ He sat back in the seat again and stared out of the window, nibbling at his thumbnail and looking surprisingly tense.
I had absolutely no idea what was wrong with him, but I was determined not to let his behaviour get to me. Rory had said we were on a make-or-break holiday, and I was beginning to wonder if the pressure of that was getting to him. He’d said he’d been worried about us for so long he couldn’t even remember when it started. That must have been an awful lot to deal with, all locked up inside him. I knew how that felt, and it was yet more shame to deal with. That I’d brought this lovely man, who I adored, to such a state made me hate myself even more. I really hadn’t thought that was possible.
Now we were here, maybe it wasn’t just me who needed to let go of all the hurt and pain. Maybe Rory needed to as well, and maybe being here, knowing this could well be our final chance at making our marriage work, was affecting him in ways neither of us could have foreseen. I had to be patient, as he’d been patient with me for so long.
I took his hand and squeezed it tightly. He didn’t look round, but he squeezed my hand back and I took heart from that, telling myself that despite his odd behaviour, he was still Rory.
This was just a blip. We were going to be fine.
15
He wasn’t kidding. We really did buy pyjamas. Rory insisted upon it. In fact, even though we were only in Rowan Vale for another three nights, he insisted that we buy three pairs each.
And not even funny ones either. He said they had to be something that would look sensible and acceptable, even if we were wearing them in front of total strangers.
‘Why would we be wearing pyjamas in front of strangers?’ I asked, confused.
‘Supposing there was a fire alarm at the inn tonight?’ he said. ‘Supposing we all had to wait outside in the car park. Can you imagine the embarrassment of mingling with strangers wearing pyjamas that saidthaton the front?’
He nodded in disgust at the pyjamas I’d found that bore the legendI’m still hot. It just comes in flashes now.
I giggled and held up a pair of pyjama bottoms that had huge elephant ears at the sides, a pair of googly eyes on the front, and a trunk where you’d pretty much expect a trunk to be on a pair of men’s pyjamas.
‘This isn’t funny, Kirsty,’ he snapped. ‘I’m not standing in a pub car park wearing those!’
‘All right, all right. It was just a joke.’ I held a nightshirt against me which had the slogan,Don’t even think about it.I raised an eyebrow. ‘More appropriate?’
‘How about this?’ he suggested, handing me a pair of pyjamas that my granny might have considered wearing, but only if she’d lost the will to live and every ounce of good taste she’d ever possessed.
I glared at him. ‘Are you serious? I wouldn’t be seen dead in those!’
Rory took a deep breath. ‘At least you’d be covered up. And warm. And comfortable. Who knows how long you might have to wear them for?’
‘Huh?’
‘In the pub car park,’ he said hastily. ‘These fire alarms are such a nuisance, and the head count can take forever, and then there’s the safety checks to make sure there’s no fire and that it’s safe to go back inside. And that’s assuming thereisn’ta fire. What if there is? We could be out there for hours. We might have to seek refuge elsewhere, and sleep in a communal dormitory with dozens of other people. Imagine if one of them was wearing those elephant pyjamas. Who’d look stupid then?’
