Breaking the Chain Read Online Free PDF Page B

the wet. Phoebe and Duncan eased themselves naked into their double sleeping bag – two single ones zipped together – and lay uncomfortably entwined. The ground was hard under Phoebe’s hip, but she suffered it in the interests of togetherness. The sound of individual drops falling onto the tent was soon overtaken by the steady drumming of heavy rain.
    ‘I hope it won’t leak,’ Phoebe said apprehensively, looking at the ridge above her head. The tent had a built-in groundsheet, and the entrance was securely zipped up so, apart from that worry, it felt very safe and womb-like. It was still just light enough for her to see Duncan’s chin. It was bristly and, like everything else, looked orange. She snuggled up tighter. Duncan’s Adam’s apple moved against her forehead rather jerkily but his voice sounded confident.
    ‘It w-won’t,’ he said. ‘I’ve used it in w-worse weather than this. G-Goodnight then. Sleep well.’ He kissed the top of her head and disengaged himself from her, turning over and pummelling his pillow to make it comfortable. Within minutes he was asleep, and breathing regularly with a slight snore. Phoebe felt stranded in mid-air.
    She lay awake with eyes wide in the increasing darkness, listening to the rain. She counted the seconds between the flashes of lightning and the answering growls of thunder, and heard the storm getting nearer and nearer. Now the thunder crashed almost simultaneously with the lightning. The storm was on top of them. During the flashes Phoebe could see Duncan’s head and shoulders vividly illuminated. He didn’t stir. He was fast asleep. Phoebe felt angry with him. How could he possibly sleep with such a racket going on? Why couldn’t he be awake to share it with her? Why hadn’t he wanted to make love? Didn’t he fancy her after all? Had she annoyed him? Thisweek wasn’t turning out quite as she’d hoped. Perhaps they should have been conventional and gone to a hotel; booked the honeymoon suite; spent the days in bed with champagne on ice. Duncan had said that that would be too expensive. Phoebe sighed. As soon as they got home, she would have to get herself a job … No, she wouldn’t think about that now. She was on her honeymoon, for heaven’s sake! She stared upwards. At least the tent wasn’t leaking. Things could be worse.
    What was that? Phoebe half sat up to listen to a thumping noise. Then she lay back smiling, grateful for her own relative comfort. It was some poor sod outside in the downpour, with a mallet, banging in tent pegs!
    A fortnight after they got back from Norfolk, Phoebe met the famous Roderick Moon for the first time. She and Duncan were invited to go over to his parents’ big house.
    ‘Come for dinner tomorrow,’ Hope said. It sounded to Phoebe more like a royal command. ‘Rick’s here for one night before he flies off to do a film in Madagascar.’
    ‘Lovely,’ Phoebe said. ‘I’m so looking forward to seeing him in the flesh.’ Yuk! she thought. Why did I say that? It sounds positively indecent.
    ‘Poor Rick,’ Hope said. ‘Both his wives went mad, you know.’
    ‘Oh,’ Phoebe said. There didn’t seem to be much else that she could say.
    ‘Is Duncan there?’
    With relief, Phoebe handed the phone to him. He said very little, but Phoebe noticed that he didn’t stammer at all. It’s magic, she thought, watching him with soft eyes. He was so calm and self-contained. Those were two of the things she loved about him. And he was so clever at making and doing things. He couldn’t be made to conform, or rushed, but he took a real pride in getting things just right. He was a man out of his time really; he should have been a craftsman in the eighteenth century … She studied his profile with loving attention. She liked the straightness of his nose, the shape of his ears, the thickness of his untidy fair hair and even the fact that he was left-handed. He was her man; she was no longer second best. Duncan put the receiver