One grey evening Torquil returned home yet again to his wife’s light chatter echoing gaily through the rooms of the house as she attempted to fill the empty hours with long telephone conversations to her mother and Toby. He felt the
irritation crawl up his neck in the form of an uncomfortable prickly heat that was becoming as familiar to him as the nagging sense of inadequacy he felt when faced with his wife’s natural grace and virtue. His mouth twitched with impatience as he stalked into the sitting room, leaving his briefcase and coat thrown onto a chair in the hall. When Federica saw him standing crossly in the doorway she hastily put down the receiver and swallowed hard as her stomach turned over with anxiety.
‘What’s wrong?' she asked, hoping it had nothing to do with her. In the brief moment that passed while Torquil chewed on his jealousy Federica frantically cast her mind back to the previous evening in an attempt to remember anything she might have said to anyone that could have roused his anger.
‘I’m fed up with coming home to find you on the telephone,’ he snapped finally.
Federica breathed out with relief. ‘I’m sorry,’ she muttered.
But Torquil wasn’t satisfied. He walked over to the fire and stood in front of it with his hands on his hips. He shook his head. ‘I’m out at work all day, when I come home I want your undivided attention. You have hours to amuse yourself when I’m not here, why do you have to insist on calling your family at the
exact moment I walk through the door?’
‘I don’t do it on purpose,’ she protested weakly.
‘Perhaps not,’ he conceded. Federica stiffened. He often appeared to back down before delivering a harsher blow. ‘Sweetness,’ he continued carefully, ‘I really think you’re too old to still be so attached to your mother and uncle. It’s about time you devoted your energies to me.’
‘What do you mean?’ she asked in bewilderment. He sat beside her on the sofa and ran a hand down her hair with tenderness. When she looked into his face his expression had softened and he was smiling at her with affection.
He sighed heavily. ‘I’m a jealous old man, my darling,’ he explained meekly. ‘I’m guilty of loving you too much.’
Federica was disarmed by the sudden change in his tone and felt the colour rise in her cheeks. ‘It’s okay, Torquil, I understand,’ she replied sympathetically.
‘I miss you all day, when I come home to find you on the telephone to your mother this anger wells up inside me. I can’t control it. I want you all to myself.’ Then he chuckled sheepishly. ‘Is that so terrible?’
Federica nestled her face against his hand that now stroked her cheek. ‘Of
course not,’ she said and smiled, once more defeated by his charm. ‘I won’t do it again, I promise.’
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her on her mouth with an intensity that demonstrated his gratitude. ‘You’re too good to me, little one. No other woman would understand me like you do.’
She laughed and caressed his face with the gentle eyes of an adoring mother. ‘No man would understand me like you do, either.’
‘We’re made for each other,’ he breathed. ‘You’re happy, aren’t you, sweetness? I want you to be happy.’
‘Of course I am.’
‘You enjoy your course?’
‘I love it,’ she enthused dutifully.
‘You see,’ he laughed. ‘I know what’s good for you better than you do.’
Even though Federica did as her husband had asked and made the calls when he was at work, he seemed to know exactly when they were made and for how long they lasted. In his silky manner he managed to persuade her to limit them to once a week. Molly and Hester went the way of Harriet. Although they put
up a fiercer fight, Federica let them go in the end. She had to.
‘You’re too sophisticated now for these provincial people, sweetness,’ Torquil said. ‘You’ll thank me one day.’
At first they journeyed down to Polperro regularly, but little by little their visits became less frequent until they barely went at all.
Federica felt powerless to complain for every time she made plans, Torquil flew her off to Paris or Madrid or Rome.
‘Sweetheart, we never see you these days,’ Toby lamented one day when Federica managed to call him from the telephone box in Harrods.
‘I know, I’m longing to come down to Polperro, and so is Torquil,’ she lied, ‘he’s just travelling so much at the moment, opening new offices abroad, so we spend most weekends out of the country.’
‘I know we shouldn’t worry, they always say newly-weds disappear into themselves for a while. It obviously means you’re happy. You don’t need your home like you used to.’