CHAPTER 17 #2
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 the countryside.
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 Llewellyn had gone 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.
‘Kind of you to wait up for me, Thomas. I didn’t know you cared!’ Douglas quipped.
‘My sister deserves better!’ Thomas suddenly snapped, leaping up from his chair. ‘She loves you – God only knows why – and this is how you treat her?’ Thomas’s simmering anger was reaching boiling point.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Tommy!’ Douglas raised his hands innocently, his tone placatory.
‘Don’t “Tommy” me! You might have charmed the rest of them, Llewellyn, but you don’t fool me!
I know what you’re up to, where you’ve been tonight.
’ Thomas was approaching Douglas now, in a slow but menacing way, like a tiger circling its prey.
Dorothy’s heart began to pound, the blood thumping in her ears.
‘I saw you, Llewellyn; don’t lie to me, damn it! The night before your wedding, with her! I saw you together . . . ’
‘Now, listen here.’ Douglas’s tone was quiet but fierce.
He squared up to Thomas. ‘I don’t know what you think you saw, but I strongly advise you against making vicious accusations that will only end up upsetting your sister.
Do I make myself clear?’ He jabbed his brother-in-law hard in the chest with his index finger, causing him to stumble backwards into the sideboard.
Enraged, Thomas gathered himself together and launched himself at Douglas like a wild animal. He caught him around the waist, toppling him to the ground.
Panic coursed through Dorothy then spurred her into action.
‘Stop it, both of you!’ she yelled from her position at the top of the stairs.
The men froze and turned to gaze up at her.
Thomas’s face remained a picture of fury, but Douglas instantly switched to his ‘devoted husband’ look.
He got up, smoothed down his shirt sleeves and stepped out of the fracas.
‘Darling, I’m so sorry I took so long!’ he gushed, glossing over the fact that she had almost witnessed a full-on brawl between them. ‘Got the water pipe sorted then had a spot of bother with the motorcar on the way back, but it’s all fixed now.’
A derisive snort came from Thomas.
Douglas climbed the stairs and, brightly and breezily, called back after him, ‘Good night then, Thomas. Do sleep well!’ When he reached the top, he took Dorothy by the hand and kissed it.
He stank of alcohol with a lingering hint of expensive Chanel perfume.
Her stomach churned. But Douglas’s fixed smile never wavered. ‘Come on, darling, let’s go to bed!’
Dorothy was still trembling a few minutes later as she lay there, waiting for him to finish in the bathroom and join her.
He had fooled her, she now realised, into thinking that he had ended things with his former lover.
And she had been fooling herself that he had ever loved her. She felt utterly wretched.
She sat up and pulled the sheets around herself as he climbed in next to her. He gave her that same, rigid smile as he reached out and touched her shoulder. She could smell the whisky. She flinched.
‘Where were you tonight?’ she whispered, trying to keep her voice steady.
He sighed dramatically then flopped back onto his pillow.
‘Oh darling, don’t start that again. I told you; I had to go back to the house, poor old Amir was getting his knickers in a twist over a piddly burst water pipe.
I don’t know why he felt the need to call me back, all very tedious.
’ He yawned, as if to emphasise the point.
‘It’s been a long day and I’m tired. Let’s get some sleep.
’ He reached over to turn out the light, but stopped when Dorothy continued.
‘But you weren’t at the house.’ She trembled as she spoke, knowing that she would need to summon all her courage to say what needed to be said next. ‘Ah Ling telephoned and spoke to Amir. He said that you had left. Where have you been all this time?’
Douglas’s eyes darkened. ‘I told you, darling; the car has been playing up . . . ’ he began.
‘Don’t lie to me, Douglas, I can’t bear it!’ She turned to face him now, her eyes brimming with tears. ‘I know where you’ve been. Thomas was right. I smelt her perfume on you.’ The tears began to flow and she angrily wiped them away.
He sighed again. ‘Oh Dorothy, I don’t know why you make such a big fuss, I really don’t. Alright, yes; I popped in to see Maria on the way home. Happy now? I didn’t say anything as you always seem to blow things out of proportion.’
‘You left me here, looking like a complete fool, not knowing where you were, while you were off with your fancy woman?’
‘It wasn’t like that. Maria has been having a difficult time lately, her husband has been away a lot and she’s been feeling lonely.’
‘And let me guess,’ Dorothy snorted, wild with rage now. ‘You were more than happy to keep her company and cheer her up!’
‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ he snapped.
‘It’s Christmas Day, Douglas; a day for family. I am your family, not her! I am your wife, not her!’
‘Well, stop moaning and be a good wife, then, why don’t you?
’ he sneered. In one swift movement he grabbed her by both arms and pushed her down on the bed, looming over her.
The stench of cigarettes and whisky on his breath turned her stomach.
He grabbed at her nightdress, tearing the lace as he forced it to the side.
‘No! Douglas, stop it, please . . . ’ she begged, realising what he was about to do. Terror coursed through her as she struggled in vain beneath his grip. ‘I’m sorry, Douglas . . . I don’t want to . . . Please, no . . . ’
But Douglas was in no mood to listen. Ignoring his wife’s pleas, he covered her mouth with his hand and forced himself upon her.