She wanted to shout at him to make love to her normally. Then suddenly she realized that he had always made love to her without love and her flesh rippled with an icy chill that debilitated her. But Torquil didn’t notice, he liked her to be still. It was then that the seed planted earlier by Sam put out tentative roots and began to grow. For the first time in her marriage she allowed herself to doubt. But once she gave into the first doubt she was unable to control the torrent of uncertainty that invaded her thoughts like wafts of black smoke.
Federica got up and began to rummage around in her cupboard. There at the
back, in the very corner where Torquil’s pedantic hands had failed to find it to throw away with the rest of her past, was the butterfly box. She sat on the floor, placed it on her knee and opened it. With an unsteady hand she re-read all her father’s letters, one by one, reclaiming the past in each tender word until her tears formed another layer of unhappiness on the paper. Then she focused her eyes into the empty distance and drew comfort from the memories she found there.
Chapter 35
Autumn 1998
The following two summers passed in a blur of parties, tedious ladies’ lunches and endless visits to the gynaecologist because Federica hadn’t got pregnant and Torquil was certain there was something wrong with her. As far as the doctor was concerned she was functioning perfectly. ‘Give it time, you’ve only been trying for a few years and you’re only twenty-two,’ he said kindly. ‘Perhaps you’re too anxious. Try to relax more.’
Torquil took it as a personal insult to his manhood that Federica hadn’t got pregnant immediately. ‘A man could scarcely make love to his wife more than I do,’ he complained, ‘and you’re voluptuous enough to be a fertility symbol.’
Federica took offence. Lonely at home in front of the fire, making her way through magazines and Dr Lionel Swanborough’s reading lists, she grazed on panettone and chocolate rolls. Torquil took her whenever he had a spare moment, lifting her skirt up and bending her over to inject her with his potency. Each time he withdrew he patted her on her bottom. ‘That’ll do it, little one,’ he’d say confidently as Federica obeyed his instructions and lay on the bed
with her feet in the air for half an hour to help the sperm in their struggle against gravity.
Federica desperately wanted a baby, but not for the right reasons. She felt she was too young to be tied down with such a heavy responsibility and yet she longed to please her husband. Each month her bleeding was accompanied by hot tears of frustration and the painful duty of reporting her failure. When she suggested that he go and see a doctor himself he retorted that everything worked perfectly well in that department, the problem lay with her.
As the cold, melancholic winds of October groaned about her Federica sought solace in her books, her chocolate and her memories.
Then Nuno died.
Under such exceptional circumstances Torquil allowed Federica to be chauffeur-driven down to Polperro for the funeral. ‘But I want you back by nightfall,’ he said. When Federica explained that that just wasn’t possible, Polperro was hours away, he grudgingly conceded and allowed her to stay the night.
‘I’m going to miss you, little one,’ he added, embracing her, ‘I need you here with me.’
Federica was devastated that Nuno had died, but her excitement at returning home to Polperro eclipsed her sadness. She longed for that day with such anticipation that she forgot her cautiousness and called her mother and Toby every day from a call box to discuss it. She even managed to avoid sex with Torquil, claiming that she was far too distressed.
The funeral took place in the little church in the village. Those who couldn’t fit in spilled out onto the leafy path, pulling their coats and hats about them to keep warm. Ingrid wore a black hat with a heavy veil so no one could see her crying. Inigo helped her down the aisle with a bowed head and red eyes. ‘It’s you and me now at the top of the pile,’ he said gloomily as they sat together in the front pew.
‘I don’t know about you, darling, but I’m going to reincarnate into a beautiful bird, you’ll see,’ she replied, placing her monocle into one eye in order to read the service sheet. Inigo pondered on the theories of reincarnation for the rest of the service.
Molly and Hester sat wiping their wet faces while Sam sat staring at the coffin. He thought of his beloved grandfather and his eyes turned to liquid.
Federica arrived late. She had wept tears of frustration as a broken-down
lorry had held them in a tight traffic-jam for over half an hour. Sweating, she shuffled down the aisle just as Reverend Boyble took his solemn place in the nave. Federica squashed in beside Toby and Julian who squeezed her arm affectionately, thrilled to see her. Reverend Boyble cleared his throat and waited for Federica to settle.