Douglas rolled over sleepily towards her. ‘Merry Christmas, darling,’ he said. He stretched up and kissed her forehead, and Dorothy felt herself relax. She was glad to be here, back in her parents’ home with her family, and felt relieved that she had managed to persuade Douglas to accept the invitation.
The first months of married life had not gone as smoothly as Dorothy had hoped. On the outside, the new Mr and Mrs Douglas Llewellyn seemed, to everyone who saw them, the perfect young newlyweds. They made a handsome couple and everyone was delighted for them; none more so than Dorothy’s parents, who had been completely charmed bytheir new son-in-law. They should have been the happiest days of Dorothy’s young life. But on the inside, she was feeling miserable.
The wedding night had been an enormous disappointment. Douglas confessed the next morning that he had fallen asleep in his study, having had ‘one too many’, and didn’t want to disturb her by coming to bed in the early hours. But Dorothy knew the truth: he had preferred to spend their wedding night in his study with his old flame, Maria da Costa Pemberton, than with his new bride. She had cried herself to sleep, feeling like an absolute fool.
The next day, they had set off on their honeymoon – a wedding gift from Dorothy’s parents – and spent three nights at a beachfront hotel in Changi. Dorothy was determined to put a brave face on and put thoughts of the previous night out of her head. She tried her best to be agreeable and to please her new husband, and determinednotto ask him why that woman had come to their house on their wedding night. After the way he’d shut her down when she had asked why she had been at their wedding, she was frightened of his reaction.
For his part, Douglas began the honeymoon by being attentive and kind to his new bride, and it had, on the whole, been a pleasant stay. They had spent time swimming in the sea, playing tennis and dining in the restaurant, where other diners smiled and nodded at them, seemingly envying their perfect new marriage. At times, however, Douglas had seemed distracted, his mind clearly far away on other things. But when she asked about it, he just told her that work was ‘terribly busy’ and that he had lots to do when he got back.
When the moment had finally come, on the second night of their marriage, to consummate their union, Douglas’s love-making had been decidedly lacklustre, polite even. There wasnone of the passion or desire of which Clara had spoken, having taken it upon herself to give her friend a pep talk about ‘the birds and the bees,’ as she put it. And although Dorothy hated torturing herself by remembering it, there was none of the heart-racing passion she had witnessed that fateful night in the tennis shed at the Tanglin Club.
According to Clara, sex could be enjoyable for women as well as men, but it had been anything but that. Dorothy had found the whole experience uncomfortable and stressful. It had all been over rather quickly, too, with Douglas disappearing off to the bathroom as soon as it was over, while she lay there, embarrassed and sore, wondering what had happened. She fretted that Douglas was not attracted to her or that she wasn’t doing it right, and it was making her feel miserable.
‘Stiff upper lip, my dear!’ had been the advice that her mother had given when she hinted that it had been a rocky start. ‘It simply doesn’t “do” to let the side down. You must try harder to keep Douglas happy and make a success of your marriage.’ Dorothy didn’t dare confide in Clara about her worries, fearing that, despite their close friendship, she would doubtless feel an element of ‘I told you so’.
Once they were back in their new marital home in York Road, it had taken time for Dorothy to adapt to the rhythm of married life. Douglas was an early riser and was usually already on his way to the office before she woke. She would breakfast alone on the veranda, having her morning tea and toast against the backdrop of the lush, green garden. And although Ah Ling was always on hand, becoming more of a confidante and companion than a housekeeper, Dorothy missed her parents and the company she had always enjoyed at their home.
The days were Dorothy’s own, to do with as she pleased. Before the wedding, Douglas had encouraged her to end her employment at the newspaper and, despite her reluctance to do so, she had eventually given in to his persuasion. ‘Darling, you’ll be so busy running the house,’ he had cajoled, ‘not to mention taking care of the children when they come. I really don’t think you’ll have time to work.’
She had been disappointed to lose the sense of independence and purpose that she had found in her employment, but supposed that he had been right. None of the married ladies they knew worked for a living; they were all entirely dependent on their husbands. But there was something about that that didn’t sit well with Dorothy.
She had been bored to begin with, watching the clock and waiting for Douglas to come home from work. But she wasn’t one to sit around twiddling her thumbs. She soon established a weekly routine that involved visiting friends, shopping, going to the club or helping her mother with her various fundraising initiatives.
Douglas would come home in time for dinner and Dorothy made sure to look fresh and pretty and have enough interesting topics ready to keep the conversation alive. After dinner, he would smoke in his study and then join her for coffee on the veranda. They would sometimes dine at the club or invite guests for dinner in the first few months of their marriage, followed by drinks and dancing to records on the gramophone. Douglas was at his best in company and loved nothing more than a party evening of music, cocktails and dancing with lively company and witty conversation. On those evenings, he was more attentive than usual, kind and affectionate with his wife and presenting himself as the doting husband. From theoutside, the Llewellyns looked like the perfect couple. But once the guests had gone and it was time for bed, it was different.
Most nights, Dorothy slept alone. Douglas regularly stayed up late, nursing a glass of whisky in his study. He often slept in his dressing room, but from time to time – perhaps more from necessity than desire – he would join his wife in the marital bed. He said he was eager to start a family, but his lovemaking persisted in that same polite, going-through-the-motions style as the first time. Rarely did he stay with Dorothy afterwards, usually kissing her on the forehead before going back to his room, saying, ‘I’ve got an early start, darling, I’ll only disturb you when I get up.’
Christmas came and Dorothy was delighted for the chance to return home and spend time with her parents, especially as her brother was there. They arrived in time for dinner on Christmas Eve and, as they sat around the Christmas tree later that evening, singing along to carols playing on the gramophone, Dorothy’s heart felt full. She was so happy to be surrounded by her loved ones again, but it made her sad to realise how lonely she had been feeling in her new marital home.
Douglas was on his best behaviour, charming his mother-in-law with compliments and impressing his father-in-law, not to mention boss, with witty repartee. In their presence, he doted on Dorothy, playing the role of the perfect husband with affectionate gestures and constant attention.
The only one who was resistant to his charms was Dorothy’s brother, Thomas. Despite Douglas’s best attempts, Dorothy could tell that her brother had not warmed to her new husband. She wanted them to get along, but she could tell from Thomas’s coolness over dinner on that first evening that he didn’t like him.
She was pleased, however, that rather than staying up late as he usually did, Douglas chose to follow her up the stairs and into her bedroom. She was even more pleased by his renewed vigour in their attempts to start a family. Dorothy secretly hoped that this new closeness could be a turning point for them. ‘I do love you, Douglas, you do know that?’ she told him as he lay on top of her afterwards, breathless and spent. He smiled, then kissed her forehead. ‘You are so adorable!’ Then he rolled off and turned his back with a cheery ‘Goodnight!’ Soon, he was snoring.
Christmas Day dawned with clear, blue skies and bright sunshine and the family attended the morning service at St Andrew’s Cathedral. It was their third Christmas away from England, but it still felt strange to Dorothy to be going through the old traditions in sunny weather. The words to ‘In the Bleak Midwinter’ felt so incongruous here, as did the roast turkey dinner which greeted them when they arrived home after the service. It was a jolly meal, with everyone in good spirits, and the festive mood continued as they exchanged gifts around the Christmas tree in the drawing room.
Hanging over the festivities like a cloud, however, was the war back home in England. Life in Singapore had continued in much the same way for the past sixteen months, but back home, seven thousand miles away, friends and family were enduring the most difficult circumstances.
The newspapers and the BBC Empire Service kept them up to date with events back home, and also received occasional letters from Daisy. She always loved receiving these, but dreaded the contents. At the start of the year, food rationing had been introduced and they were having to ‘make do and mend’ in so many ways. Children had been evacuated from the cities, encouraged by the government to move to safer places in thecountryside. Dorothy’s eyes teared up at the thought of this; it was all just so awful.
After dinner, Dorothy and Thomas got out the box of family board games, as had been their Christmas tradition since they were children back home in London. They were setting up for a game of Scrabble when a servant arrived with a message for Douglas, saying that he was urgently needed back at the house in York Road.
‘Some problem with the damn water pipes, apparently,’ he told his hosts with a helpless shrug. Then he bent down to give his wife a farewell kiss on the cheek.
‘Oh, but must you go, Douglas?’ Dorothy moaned. ‘It’s getting late; surely whatever it is can wait until the morning?’
‘I’m sorry, my love, I wish I didn’t have to go, but if it’s a burst pipe it could cause absolute chaos! Best get it sorted as soon as possible, eh?’
And with a cheerful wave, he was off.
Christmas evening passed, Olivia Templeton was victorious in the family Scrabble contest and bedtime came. But there was no sign of Douglas. Her parents cheerfully kissed Dorothy goodnight, reassuring her that he would be busy sorting out whatever problem had occurred and he would be back very soon.
Dorothy lay awake, her mind in overdrive. A phone call to the house had revealed that yes, Mr Llewellynhadgone home around eight o’clock, but had only stayed for about twenty minutes. She had sat up waiting, but by the time midnight struck on the old grandfather clock in the hallway, she had given up. Feeling confused, not to mention more than a little embarrassed, she had gone to bed, propping her bedroom door open in order to hear the first hint of his return.
When the front door finally clicked open half an hour later, Dorothy tiptoed out onto the landing. She was surprised to hear voices in the hall below and stood quietly in the shadows, looking down through the balustrade. She could make out her brother in the soft lamplight. Reclining in an armchair, he held a glass of whisky in one hand and a cigarette in the other.
When he spoke, Thomas’s voice was icy calm. ‘So, you finally deign to honour us with your presence?’ he mocked.
