The Painted Cage Read Free Page A

smiled. ‘We could sit on that seat over there.’
    They were shielded from view. The voices of the tennis crowd, the slap of balls, the clink of glass were the noises of another world. He was close to her on the seat, closer than decency allowed. His knee was partly covered by the muslin of her dress. She stared at the darkness of his trouser leg beneath the flimsy fold. At times she felt shecould not wait to feel his touch upon her. Once, upon the island, he had taken her hand as if to pull her to him, then released her abruptly again. He seemed to watch her, observing the fire he had lighted burn its way within her, and made no move. It drove her to distraction. If Frank had stirred vague dreams, the violence Reggie unleashed seemed to fill her with depravity. The need for his touch was as painful as a bodily affliction. She was exhausted by waiting for a relief that never came. She was aware in herself of a brazenness, different from the feelings of a girl like Sarah. The genteel refinements of cultivated love for romance or convenience, so appropriate to their age and status, were not a world Amy seemed to know. To her it was a distant land; she spoke a different language, a language never mentioned. She observed the pull of Reggie’s coat upon his shoulders, the swagger of his stride. Beside him she was close to his breathing and the short, curling hairs on his neck. She was no more than the shape he gave her, obedient to his will. Within her the intensity of feelings grew, waiting. Waiting.
    â€˜Amy,’ he turned suddenly to her, taking her hand, his face close as when they had danced. He had not called her by her name before. ‘You know what I wish to ask, do you not?’
    She shook her head as if mystified, and yet she had hoped when they entered the summerhouse, that he would clarify his feelings at last. His voice sounded unreal, his breath touched her face.
    â€˜Marry me, Amy. Say you will. I have not your father’s consent yet. I wished to ask you first.’ Her hand lay in his; as he spoke he raised it to his mouth. ‘People may remark upon the difference in our ages, but you mustn’t let it worry you. I’ll make you happy.’
    â€˜I’m already so happy,’ Amy whispered. ‘People may say what they like, I won’t listen to a word.’ She was brilliant with love, aware of nothing but the moment, selected by her wilfully to alter destiny. The words she had practised so often in dreams to accept his imaginary proposal she could not now remember. She laughed inconfusion as he took her suddenly in his arms. He gripped her tightly, his body pressed to her, his lips upon her neck. Over his shoulder she saw the birds staring curiously, heads to one side.
    â€˜How now, me beauties?’ The bird’s throat moved but the voice was that of the gardener. The other bird responded with a peal of laughter. The sound filled the summerhouse. Amy tightened her grip upon Reggie and offered him her mouth. The monstrous laughter rattled about them, she closed her eyes, unheeding. She had made her choice, although no reason could explain it.
    Reggie acted quickly then. He did not waste a further day, he approached her father formally. In her room above her father’s study, Amy waited for the storm to break. It was as if she could feel his shock reverberate through the house. She was summoned at once after Reggie had gone.
    â€˜Have you taken all leave of your senses, miss? Have you no shame?’ Mr Sidley shook with rage, his nails pressured blue about a paperweight. She feared he might throw it at her.
    â€˜Mr Redmore has acted with propriety and I with decorum, Papa. There is no reason for talk of shame.’ She held her head up until he lowered his eyes on the excuse of rearranging a paper.
    â€˜It is too bad of you, Amy. You’ve had good offers already and refused. This Redmore, we know nothing of him. He’s misled you for his purpose.