No Gentle Possession. Anne Mather

      ‘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 was no reasoning with him.

      After the evening meal, her mother said: ‘I promised I’d go down to Lucy’s this evening. She’s got a pattern for a dress and she asked if I’d help her cut it out. Do you think your father would mind?’

      ‘Of course not.’ Karen shook her head. ‘Besides, I shall be here. I’m not going out. I expect Ray will come round later.’

      Her mother looked at her uncertainly. ‘Well, he’s asleep at the moment. If I go now, I might be back before he wakes up.’

      Karen gave her an exasperated smile. ‘Darling, no one’s going to need you for a couple of hours. Go on, go and chat to Lucy; tell her all about Daddy.’

      Laura smiled, taking off her apron. ‘It would be nice,’ she admitted.

      ‘There you are, then.’ Karen lounged into a chair near the fire. ‘Actually, I have some books to mark and I want to work out tomorrow’s schedules.’

      Laura nodded. ‘All right. But I’ll be as quick as I can.’

      ‘Fine.’ Karen glanced up as her mother left the room and then settled down to reading a fifteen-year-old’s idea of the reasons behind the collapse of every empire since the days of Kubla Khan. Once she got up and switched on the record player, seducing herself with the rhythmic sound of a jazz piano.

      When the doorbell rang she felt a sense of impatience. It was nearly nine o’clock and she had felt convinced that Ray would not come this evening. He knew she had work to do.

      Glancing down at her crumpled velvet pants and loose white smock, she sighed. Oh well, she thought resignedly, she hadn’t time to change now. Running a smoothing hand over her straight hair, she went to the door and swung it open.

      But it was not Ray Nichols who stood on the doorstep. It was a man, certainly, but he was taller and leaner, and the shafted light from the hall glinted on silvery lights in hair that was unmistakable.

      Karen’s heart thumped heavily. Sooner or later, she had known that this would happen, and now it had she felt totally inadequate. He was so much more attractive now than he had been seven years ago, lines of experience adding maturity to his features. And his holiday in Austria had given him a tan which was quite startling when his hair was so pale. But he didn’t have the usual skin that went with such blondness, and he suffered none of the difficulties experienced by people with fair skin. Oh God, she thought weakly, to think she had once gone out with him, and once planned to go away with him for the week-end, alone …