Ray struggled up out of his lounging position. ‘Come on, Karen,’ he said. ‘That’s no way to talk. Imagine what your father would think if he could hear you now.’
Karen sighed ‘I’m only talking. I’m not doing anything wrong. I don’t even want to do anything wrong. I just wondered, that’s all.’
Ray snorted. ‘Well, it’s just as well I’m not the sort of chap to take you up on it, that’s all!’ he said sharply.
Karen slid off his knees. ‘I’ll make some coffee,’ she said, walking towards the door, and he made no move to stop her. Indeed, when she glanced back she saw that he was once more engrossed in the television.
Karen taught English and history at Wakeley Comprehensive School. She had been there for the past three years, ever since leaving university in fact, and she enjoyed her work tremendously. She was a popular girl with both staff and pupils, and as Ray taught at the same school they had a lot in common.
The following afternoon, Karen had some shopping to do before going home, and Ray dropped her in the High Street. Although he lived some distance from Karen’s home, he invariably drove her back in the afternoons, and she was grateful. The buses, particularly at this time of the year, were notoriously unreliable.
Karen collected her mother’s books from the library, bought herself some tights and cosmetics, and then walked briskly along towards the bus stop. The snow of the previous day had melted in the town centre and the pavements and roads were slushy and wet. Avoiding the edge of the path because of the filthy mess thrown up by the traffic, Karen’s attention was caught by a sleek green sports limousine that was nosing its way along the High Street behind a heavy goods vehicle. The driver was unmistakably familiar, and she shrank back into a shop doorway, which was quite ridiculous really as in the deplorable weather conditions and the crowded pavements there was no possible chance of him noticing her.
Nevertheless, the small incident shook her, bringing it home to her forcibly that it would be comparatively easy to encounter him in a small place like Wakeley. Still, she consoled herself, he was hardly likely to go far without his car, and Leeds was much more his environment than anywhere else around here.
During the next few days, Karen had to get used to hearing her father talk about Alexis Whitney. Daniel was always grumbling about things the new manager was doing, but underlying that anger she sensed an anxious thread of concern, as though her father was afraid his methods were about to be supplanted. It became obvious that whatever his reasons for coming to Wakeley, Alexis was not prepared to sit back and allow his work to be done for him as Jeff Pierce had been inclined to do, and in consequence the whole section had felt his presence.
Karen knew her mother was concerned about the effect it was having on her husband, but there was nothing either of them could do. Daniel had refused to accept the situation with any degree of resignation, and began working longer hours, keeping his department constantly on its toes.
The weather continued very cold and Karen hated getting out of bed in the mornings. Not that she was prone to colds or sickness; on the contrary she seemed to thrive on the conditions, but her father did not. The way he was driving himself had weakened his resistance and one morning when Karen came down to breakfast she found her mother arguing hotly with him.
‘You’re mad!’ she was saying, as Karen entered the dining-room. ‘Mad! You’ll give yourself pneumonia!’
‘I’ll be all right. Stop fussing, woman!’ said Daniel hoarsely, and Karen looked at him with concern. His eyes were red-rimmed and watery, there were splashes of hectic colour in his cheeks, and his nose was sore from constant use of his handkerchief. He was obviously full of cold and when he started to cough she looked at her mother exasperatedly.
‘Surely he doesn’t intend to go to work!’
Laura shrugged, looking anxious. ‘Try and stop him!’
‘Stop talking about me as if I wasn’t here,’ exclaimed Daniel. ‘I’ve got a cold, that’s all. Everyone has colds at this time of the year. It’s all this bad weather.’
Karen folded her arms. ‘You look as though you’ve got ‘flu to me!’ she stated. ‘Go back to bed, Pop. You look terrible!’
Her father got to his feet, pushing aside his unfinished plate of bacon and eggs. ‘Lord spare me from women!’ he muttered, raising his eyes heavenward. ‘There’s nothing wrong with me that a couple of aspirin won’t cure. You can get them for me, Laura, while I put on my coat.’
Laura made a resigned gesture and turned away to do his bidding, while Karen shrugged and then dropped down into a chair at the table. She was buttering some toast, which was all she wanted, when her father came back, wearing, his coat, a muffler round his neck. She looked up at him worriedly.
‘You will take care, won’t you, Pop?’
Daniel’s expression softened. ‘Of course I will. I’ve told you, it’s just a cold.’
But when Karen arrived home from school that afternoon she found the doctor just leaving the house. Giving him a polite smile, she followed her mother indoors and then exclaimed: ‘Is it Pop? What’s happened?’
Her mother gave her a resigned look. ‘Nothing drastic. Your father was taken ill at work this afternoon, and that Mr. Whitney insisted he came home. Ian Halliday brought him in his car.’
‘Oh!’ Karen’s lips parted. ‘What did the doctor say, then?’
‘It’s ‘flu, just like you said. He was a fool to go anywhere today. Anyway, he’s really done it now. The doctor insists that he stays in bed for at least three days.’ She stifled a chuckle. ‘You should have seen his face when Dr. Thomas said that.’
Karen took off her coat. ‘Well, I’m relieved it’s nothing more serious.’
‘So am I. If he hadn’t come home it could have developed into pleurisy or pneumonia. It’s no use. He’s not a young man any more, and he can’t play around with his health.’
‘I’ll go up and see him.’
Karen left her mother and ran lightly up the stairs. Entering her parents’ bedroom she found her father lying with his eyes closed looking somehow vulnerable. A surge of compassion welled up inside her, but then his eyes opened and it fled as he said harshly:
‘What a mess this is!’
‘You’re only where you belong,’ Karen declared lightly. ‘Good heavens, you weren’t fit to go to work.’
‘Maybe not, but I don’t need a manager to tell me what to do!’
‘I’m sure – Mr. Whitney only did what he thought was best,’ she remarked cautiously.
‘Best for him, you mean.’ Her father moved restlessly in the bed. ‘Sending me home like that. Calling the doctor.’
‘Did he do that?’ Karen was surprised.
‘ ’Course he did. You don’t think I’d have let your mother call him, do you?’
‘Perhaps he knew that,’ murmured Karen quietly.
‘Huh!’ Her father sounded bitter. ‘Anyway, I’m out of the way now for goodness knows how long! He’ll be able to do as he likes and no one to stand in his way.’
‘Oh, Pop! I’m sure you’re exaggerating.’
‘What do you know about it? And I’ve told you before, don’t call me Pop!’
Karen sighed. ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’
‘No. I don’t want anything.’ Her father began to cough hoarsely, and she watched him helplessly until he lay spent upon the pillows. ‘All right, all right,’ he muttered. ‘I’ll have some tea.’
Karen hesitated only a moment longer and then left him. In this mood there