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Tom came to the house was
    appalling; her father aggressively, bullyingly brusque; Tom acerbic, icily polite.
    When Tom had left, Felix would tear the occasion apart,
    criticising every move Tom made, every sentence he
    uttered. ‘Darling, you know what you’re doing of course,
    but do you really think a man who interrupts you seven
    times during lunch has any real respect for what you say?’ or
    ‘I can see he’s very witty, Octavia, but are you sure he has a
    sense of humour? That’s rather different, you know, and a
    marriage can’t possibly work without it.’ And of course she
    was affected by it, by the criticism, she couldn’t help it,
    would analyse the interruptions, the lack of humour.
    Somehow, Tom won through, the darkest hour a
    confrontation when Felix questioned Tom’s ability to
    support her, to make his way in the world. Tom lost his
    temper. He told Felix his attitude was intolerable and left in
    the middle of dinner. It preceded the dawn of a grudging
    acceptance. Like all bullies, Felix Miller respected, even
    feared, courage. Tom had turned up the following morning
    with a set of bank accounts, a client list, and a couple of
    editorials in the Financial Times outlining the success and
    rapid growth of the company he worked for over the
    previous three years. ‘I want you to know this sticks in my
    craw,’ he had said, glaring at Felix Miller. ‘I cannot stand
    self-promotion.’ (This was not strictly true, Octavia
    thought, hearing about it afterwards, but wisely kept her
    counsel.) ‘But if you won’t accept my own assurances, then
    I am driven to presenting you with other people’s.’
    Miller never apologised, but from then on he stopped
    fighting the marriage. There had been an unhappy
    exchange with Octavia two nights before the wedding,
    which Octavia had never told Tom about, and had sworn
    she never would, when Felix had, in a last ditch stand, asked
    her if she was really sure if she knew what she was doing,
    and when she said she was, told her she was mistaken. ‘In
    six months’ time,’ he said, pouring a brandy, looking at her
    across the drawing room, ‘you’ll wish you were dead. And
    don’t come running to me when it happens.’
    Octavia stared at him for a moment, then went straight
    up to her room, locked the door and lay on her bed, staring
    out at the darkness, afraid, in spite of being so much in love
    with Tom, such was her father’s power over her.
    Later, when Felix Miller came and knocked on her door
    she told him to go away, and when he ordered her to open
    it, for the first time in her entire life she disobeyed him. A
    note was pushed under it, in Miller’s copperplate hand,
    saying he hadn’t meant to upset her, he’d been upset
    himself, loving, caring about her so much. She still didn’t
    go to him, but in the morning, recognising the enormity of
    the gesture, she kissed him and said she hoped they were
    still friends.
    ‘Friends! My darling Octavia, you are everything to me,
    you know that, surely.’
    ‘I know,’ she had said. ‘I do know.’ But the whole
    incident had frightened and disturbed her more than she
    would have believed. And haunted her for the rest of her
    life.
     
    The wedding, of course, was wonderful; she came down
    the aisle on the arm of a Felix Miller beaming with pride
    and love, although many people remarked that his expression
    as they left the church, walking behind her now up the
    aisle, was markedly less happy. And he made a very
    sentimental speech, probably all he could have done in the
    circumstances, Octavia thought, saying how much he loved
    her and all he wanted was her happiness. Tom’s speech had
    a slightly sharper edge to it, and there was an awkward
    moment when the best man referred to Octavia as moving
    from the centre of one man’s life to another’s, but on the
    whole, as Tom remarked as they drove literally weak with
    relief towards the airport, en route to Felix’s cottage in
    Barbados, it could