Presence of Mind Read Online Free Page B

reason that I couldn’t even begin to define, Briony’s casual remark that she would like to take up painting, which at the time I’d hardly considered, loomed large among them. Jealousy again, I told myself in exasperation. It was another thread which would draw her and Lance closer together and as such I resented it. But I couldn’t dismiss it as easily as that. The whole world of art seemed full of menace where it touched Briony – and that line of thought clearly stemmed from her obsession with the painting downstairs. In my feverish imagination it seemed to be endowed with some evil power of its own, luring her ever closer like an obscene carnivorous plant until it could digest her as an integral pan of itself.
    I sat up suddenly and switched on the light. The familiar outlines of the bedroom leapt reassuringly at me out of the darkness. In the next bed Lance lay breathing gently, his face in sleep younger and more vulnerable than the daylight world was allowed to see it. For several minutes I stared across at him, waiting for my chaotic breathing to quieten. He knew, of course, about Briony’s headaches, but the less tangible fears I had kept to myself. For the next few weeks, while he was working at full stretch to fulfil the exhibition requirements as well as keeping up his three day week lecturing at the local art college, I didn’t want to add to his worries. And far from acting as a calming influence on me, where Briony was concerned he was apt to panic even more than I was. It was therefore impossible to tell him Jan’s disquieting words about her ‘going away’, about her sudden seeming immunity to a previously powerful allergy. With a sigh I reached up and switched off the light, watching my husband’s face vanish again into the dark.
    Sleep came, but only fitfully, and at breakfast I was still tired and tense. The morning sunshine flooded through the open dining-room windows, glinting blindingly on the cut-glass marmalade dish and the flashing silver of Briony’s spoon as she ate her grapefruit. Across the table Lance emerged from his newspaper and smiled at her. ‘We’ve that tennis match to finish this afternoon, haven’t we? I seem to remember we had to abandon it at my leading five-three in the third set.’
    â€˜Oh Daddy, I can’t this afternoon, I’m afraid.’
    â€˜But it was all arranged,’ I said quickly, seeing the disappointment on Lance’s face. ‘You know how Daddy enjoys your Saturday tennis. It’s about the only relaxation he gets.’
    â€˜I’m sorry, I simply forgot all about it. Mark told me yesterday that there’s a pop group appearing in Marshford tonight. We thought we’d walk there, having a picnic lunch on the way, and catch the last bus home. We can play tomorrow instead.’
    â€˜The crowd will be here tomorrow,’ Lance said quietly. ‘Never mind, obviously Mark has first refusal. But where in Marshford can they possibly hold a concert?’
    â€˜The Congregational Hall. Mark managed to get almost the last two tickets.’
    â€˜Good for him.’
    The sour note in his voice must have reached her, for she stretched out impulsively for his hand. ‘Daddy darling, I do believe you’re jealous! You needn’t be, you know, ever. I’ll always love you best!’
    The breath twisted in my throat. Since my eyes were on his face I caught for a split second his startled acceptance of her accusation before he recovered himself and smilingly patted her hand.
    â€˜I’ll go and see what Rosie’s rustled up for the picnic.’ She pushed her chair back from the table and left the room. I said carefully into the silence, ‘I’ll have a game with you this afternoon if you like.’
    â€˜What?’ He brought his eyes back to me with an effort.
    â€˜I said –’
    â€˜Oh. No, it’s all right. I should be working