Comparative Strangers (12 page)

Amanda walked along the warm edge of the sea, small waves foaming delicately round her ankles.

This was her favourite time of day, she thought, these moments before sunset, and the swift, almost magical descent of the tropical Balinese night. And it was a time when she was certain of having the beach to herself.

Already, twinkling lights were beginning to appear in the lush vegetation of the rambling hotel gardens. When they’d arrived three weeks before, she’d been exhausted, both by the flight and by the emotional pressures of the preceding days, and she’d thought dazedly, as a pair of white-coated porters led them down winding paths, past waterfalls and tiny lakes afloat with lilies, that she’d stumbled into paradise.

It was an impression which had lingered. The hotel complex had tucked its luxurious bungalows in the heart of its gardens, creating for each of them an illusion of privacy and isolation.

Under ordinary circumstances, Amanda could imagine no more magical place for a honeymoon. But the circumstances were far from ordinary, and the magic had been confined firmly to their surroundings.

Amanda gave a small, wry smile. The fact that Malory had chosen to start their pretend marriage in such a romantic spot had aroused, initially, all her worst misgivings. And these had been compounded when she saw the immense double bed which dominated the room in which their luggage had been placed. She’d stood, staring at it with blank eyes, while Malory thanked the porters and tipped them.

When they were alone, he’d said, drily, ‘Don’t look so stricken, darling. There’s another room across the hall.’ And he’d removed his bags there without further delay.

It had been, she had to admit, the only awkward moment she had experienced, and that was largely due to Malory’s completely prosaic attitude to their situation.

Once she had been able to accept the fact that he had meant what he said, and she wasn’t going to have to fight him off each night, Amanda had begun to relax, and even to enjoy herself.

She had flung herself headlong into an orgy of trips and sightseeing, with his amused encouragement. But Malory himself did not accompany her. This was not, he’d told her pleasantly, his first trip to Bali.

She’d been slightly disconcerted by this, without really knowing why. She’d found herself asking, ‘Did you come here alone?’

‘No.’ There had been a note in his voice which definitely discouraged further questions, but she supposed his companion had been female. And she no longer found that as extraordinary as she would have done at the start of their relationship.

Although he had never referred to it, Amanda still felt hot with embarrassment when she recalled her shaming response to his lovemaking. And it had occurred to her with annoying frequency that Malory might be altogether a more skilful and sophisticated lover than she’d given him credit for.

But the only certainty was that he had no apparent wish to make love to her. Indeed, his attitude throughout had been almost that of tolerant older brother with indulged younger sister. For instance, he’d encouraged her to spend a small fortune on the exquisite silverwork and wood-carving for which Bali was famous, including presents for the Priddys, and for Mrs Conroy.

Amanda had hesitated over the latter, the memory of her mother’s hysterical reaction to the news of her forthcoming marriage still only too fresh in her mind. Mrs Conroy had at first refused point-blank to come to the register office cerand then had performed a suspiciously hasty U-turn, demanding exact details of where and when the wedding was going to take place.

So that she can tell Nigel, no doubt, Amanda had realised wearily, and replaced the telephone receiver with a quiet, ‘Goodbye, Mother.’

She could only hope that, now she was actually Malory’s wife, Mrs Conroy would abandon her attempts to bring about a reconciliation between Nigel and herself. And that Nigel, too, would finally admit defeat, and keep out of her life, she thought, a little knot of wretchedness lodging itself in the region of her breastbone. However determinedly she might fill her days, there were still the nights to get through, when she lay staring into the darkness, her mind filled with an odd restlessness.

Amanda looked at the sky, its serenity pierced and transformed by the setting sun into a richness of purple and crimson shot with gold. All the colours, she thought with a little sigh, of the exquisite, filmy sarong she was wearing over her bikini.

It was the most exotic thing she’d ever possessed, and she would never have dreamed of buying such a thing for herself, only Malory had insisted. It had been entirely his own choice, and the nearest to a romantic gesture he’d made during their whole stay.

For which she could only be grateful, she told herself resolutely. Because, in spite of his forbearance, his care to leave her to her own devices as much as possible, she had been aware, when she was with him, of little pangs of yearning and regret which had a danger all their own. It was the atmosphere of the place getting to her, she thought. Brilliant sunlit days, and sultry moonlit nights were bound to have an effect eventually, and perhaps it was just as well they were flying back tomorrow.

She felt a small frisson of awareness, and, glancing back towards the gardens which bordered the beach, saw Malory standing under a tree, watching her.

She lifted a hand rather uncertainly in greeting, and he began to walk over the pale sand towards her. He’d never disturbed her at this special time before. Usually, when she got back to the bungalow to change for dinner, he was sitting on the small veranda, reading or enjoying a reflective drink. It was the first time he’d sought her out like this.

‘Is something wrong?’ She came out of the water.

‘Not a thing.’ Malory smiled at her. ‘It seems a dance troupe are going to perform the Ramayana ballet after dinner tonight, and I wondered if you’d like to see it. If not, we could always eat somewhere else.’

‘Oh, no, I’d love it.’ Amanda had found herself entranced by the colour and artistry of the Balinese myths and legends portrayed in their dances. ‘Will it be those gorgeous children again, I wonder?’ She paused. ‘But, of course, you’ve seen it all before. We don’t have to…’

‘I didn’t realise I was such a killjoy,’ Malory cut rather drily across her stilted words.

‘You’re not,’ Amanda protested swiftly. ‘But you didn’t want to see any of the temples, or the craft villages…’

‘Because I didn’t want to inflict my undiluted company on you all day and every day,’ he said without rancour.

‘Oh—heavens,’ Amanda stammered. ‘I—I hope you haven’t been too bored.’

‘Certainly not,’ he said. ‘It’s been a hell of year, and I’ve enjoyed the chance to relax.’ He sounded maddeningly matter of fact.

Her shrug tried to match his tone. ‘That’s what holidays are for.’ The movement of her shoulders made her sarong slip a little, and she clutched at it with unwarranted haste. Surely she’d got over feeling self-conscious about appearing before Malory in her bikini by now, she castigated herself, as she retied the knot, aware that he was watching her hurried movements with a faint smile.

She began to babble. ‘I came down to watch my last sunset.’ She gestured to where the sky was beginning to deepen to indigo. ‘Isn’t that the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?’

‘Yes.’

There was an odd note in the quiet voice, and she glanced at him to discover, with shock, that he wasn’t looking at the sunset at all, but at her. And he wasn’t smiling, either. There was a kind of brooding stillness in his face that started her heart knocking unevenly against her ribcage. Even in the bungalow at night, she realised confusedly, they had never seemed so—alone as they were now.

She stepped backwards, stumbling a little in the soft sand. Her voice shook as she said, I’d better go and change for dinner.‘

‘It might be best,’ he agreed expressionlessly. ‘I’ll see you later.‘

She had to overcome a strong urge to run away from him up the beach. As she wrestled her sandals on to her sandy feet, she told herself she was being ridiculous. Malory was entitled to look at her if he wanted to. He’d paid, after all, for every stitch she was wearing. And her bikini, though brief, was quite decent. None of which explained why she’d felt so vulnerable—and naked, suddenly.

For the first time, that evening, she fastened the bolt on the bathroom door before taking her shower.

She’d brought the golden culotte dress with her, and had intended to wear it that evening, but after a moment’s irresolution she thrust it back in the wardrobe. It held too many connotations, she told herself defensively as she closed the zip on a pretty jade-green dress with a wide scooped neckline and wrap-around skirt.

The Ramayana was as spectacular as she could have wished, its theme the conflict between good and evil, as so many Balinese ballets depicted. Amanda was intrigued to see that the roles of the two princely brothers, sent by intrigue into exile, were danced by women, Rama in a golden crown and Laksmana in a black one. She was completely carried away by the story of kidnapping, demons and enchantment which followed, with Rama’s wife, Sita, being snatched away by the evil tyrant Rawana in his hideous mask.

She loved the animals, too, which were such a feature of the performance—the golden deer which lured Rama away from his wife, and the heroic Jatayu bird which tried to rescue her from her captor, not to mention the monkeys whose caperings added a touch of broad slapstick to the performance.

As the Monkey God, Hanumen, led Sita to rejoin her husband in triumph at the end, Amanda clapped until her hands tingled.

'I'll never forget it—never,‘ she told Malory ecstatically. ’Oh, this is the most wonderful place in the world. If only…‘ She stopped dead.

‘Yes?’ Malory prompted gently enough, but with a closed expression in his face.

‘Nothing,’ she said, with a little unhappy gasp.

‘Let me guess’ he said harshly. ’If only you could have been here with the man you love. Isn’t that it?‘

Amanda flushed dully, ‘I suppose so.’ She lifted her chin with a touch of defiance. ‘What else do you expect?’

There was a brief, loaded silence, then he lifted his shoulders in a shrug. ‘Not a thing.’ His smile did not reach his eyes, as he extended a formal hand to her. ‘Shall we go and sample the delights of the
Ristafel
?’

‘What’s that?’ Amanda tried to restore the easy footing of the past few weeks, which her tactless slip of the tongue had endangered.

‘A Dutch rice table,’ he said. ‘An Indonesian buffet with more dishes than you can dream of.’ His mouth twisted satirically. ‘Another memory for you to cherish.’

She followed him miserably. It had all turned sour, suddenly, and she couldn’t understand why it had happened. Those two small words had made it sound as if she’d been longing and grieving for Nigel all the time, and that wasn’t true at all. Perhaps hearts didn’t break as easily as she’d thought, or maybe she was just totally disillusioned with his egocentric, vicious behaviour.

People were already clustering around the long tables, exclaiming happily over the food. There were few families at the hotel, she noticed. Most of the guests were couples, and she was sure that she and Malory were not the only honeymooners. She found herself noticing with a kind of heightened consciousness the linked hands, the exchanged smiles and intimate, lingering looks that spoke of fulfilled love.