Emily

Chapter Fifteen

For the first time I dreaded Christmas. At home it had been our own, cosy, womb-like festival, but with Rory there wasn’t likely to be peace on earth, or goodwill towards men. Half-heartedly I chose a fir tree from the plantation behind our house and set it in a tub, put holly on the walls, strung a bit of mistletoe from the drawing-room light.

On Christmas Eve I went into Penlorren to do last-minute shopping and buy some little presents for Rory’s stocking. I left Rory cleaning his gun for the shoot Buster had arranged for Boxing Day.

When I got back, weighed down with parcels, there was a car parked outside the gate. I let myself in and was just about to shout I was back, when I heard raised voices from the studio. I tiptoed closer so I could distinguish them. One was like rough sand with a pronounced Scottish accent, the other aristocratic, drawling, silken with menace. Through the door I could see Finn and Rory facing each other, like a huge lion and a sleek, slim, black panther, obviously in the middle of a blazing row. Neither of them heard me.

‘Well, Doctor?’ said Rory, the words dripping with insolence. ‘Why are you hounding me like this?’

‘Because I’ve got several things I want to say to you.’

‘Well, don’t say them now. Emily’ll be back any moment.’

‘I don’t know what devilish game you’re up to this time,’ said Finn, ‘but you’d better stop playing cat and mouse with my sister. Leave her alone, you’ve done enough damage.’

I felt my throat go dry. I held on to the door handle for support.

‘Marina’s over twenty-one. Surely she’s old enough to take care of herself,’ said Rory.

‘You know she can’t,’ thundered Finn. ‘You of all people must know how near the edge she is. Don’t you ever think of Hamish?’

‘Not if I can help it,’ said Rory in a bored voice.

‘Or Emily?’

‘Leave Emily out of it. She’s my problem. You should really visit us more often, Finn. You’re like a breath of fresh air.’

‘You damned little rat,’ roared Finn. ‘You’re going to carry on as before, aren’t you?’

‘Well, things are slightly more complicated now, but on the whole, Doctor, you’ve got a pretty clear view of things.’

‘You know I can put the police on you, don’t you?’ said Finn.

Suddenly Rory lost his temper. He went as white as a sheet, his black eyes blazed.

‘You wouldn’t dare,’ he hissed. ‘Your family would come out of it as badly as mine.’

‘I don’t care.’

Their faces were almost touching in their rage.

Then Rory’s control seemed to desert him. He sprang at Finn, howling abuse, his fingers round Finn’s throat. At one moment it seemed as though Finn was going to be murdered. The next, Rory had gone down before a crashing blow on the jaw, and Finn was standing over him, fists clenched, about to kick Rory’s head in.

‘No!’ I screamed. ‘No! Don’t touch him.’

Finn swung round, his yellow eyes blazing. Then he looked down at Rory.

‘That’s only the beginning, Rory,’ he said. ‘I won’t be so gentle with you next time.’

And he was gone.

‘Are you all right?’ I said.

‘Fine,’ Rory said. ‘I do love Christmas, don’t you? It brings out those delightful histrionic qualities latent in all of us.’

I didn’t laugh.

‘I suppose you’re going to tell me he was talking nonsense,’ I said, ‘that there wasn’t any truth in his accusations.’

Rory poured himself a drink and downed it in one, then he banged the glass down.

‘What do you think, Emily? That’s what matters.’

‘I don’t think anything,’ I said, biting my lip to stop myself crying. ‘I just know you haven’t made love to me for nearly three months and it’s driving me crazy. Then Finn comes here and says all these things, and they seem to add up.’

Rory picked up the gun from the table and examined it. ‘So, you’re not getting your ration,’ he said softly.

‘Put that thing away,’ I said nervously.

‘Does it frighten you? Poor, frustrated Emily.’

He lifted the gun, his finger on the trigger.

‘Don’t!’ I screamed.

He aimed the gun upwards. There was a muted explosion, the crash of a light bulb, and the studio was in darkness. The next minute a wedge of muscle and flesh hurled itself against me, knocking the breath out of my body, pinioning me to the carpet. Then Rory’s mouth ground against mine with such intensity our teeth clashed. I struggled helplessly like a fly against a wall, trying to push him away.

‘No, Rory, no,’ I shrieked.

‘You wanted it,’ he swore. ‘You’re bloody well going to get it.’

It was over in a few seconds. I lay on the floor, rocking from side to side, my hands over my mouth. My ribs felt as though they’d crack with agony from the dry sobs I couldn’t utter.

Rory flicked on the side light and shone it in my face.

‘That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? You don’t seem pleased.’

I gazed at him dumbly, I could feel the tears welling out of my eyes.

‘You hate my guts, don’t you?’ I whispered.

‘It’s your lack of guts I hate,’ he said.

Then, suddenly, he put his arms round me and pulled me against him. I jerked my head away.

‘Oh, Emily, Emily,’ he muttered, ‘I’m so miserable, and I’ve made you miserable, too. Forgive me, I don’t know what gets into me.’

Running a dry tongue over my lips and tasting the blood congealing there, I digested this outburst. I should have tried to comfort him, to find out what drove him to these black, uncontrollable rages. But I didn’t feel up to it. Without a word, I shook him off, got to my feet, and walked out of the room, banging the door shut.