rioting.
‘They’re having an affair!’ shouted Greta, her hands clenching and unclenching in fury. ‘She wanted him right from the first!’
‘Luke . . . please take me to Steve’s house.’ Christine knew full well how Luke would feel but she cherished the vague hope that he would do as she asked.
‘Why are you here?’ demanded Greta in quivering tones, ‘I’ve asked you once! Why don’t you answer me!’
‘I came to take Christine to the party.’
‘Martha’s and David’s?’ Christine looked up into a face of unsmiling disapproval. ‘You’re invited too?’ She had thought he was still away.
‘Why the surprise?’ returned Luke coldly. ‘They’re my friends, so you ought to have known I’d be invited.’ Again he glanced at her attire. ‘You’d better go and change into something more suitable to a barbecue,’ he said and released her. His eyes were on Greta as he added softly, ‘Either you stay here with me while I wait for Christine, or I accompany her to her room. Take your choice.’
So cool, and yet the firmness was apparent, and after a small hesitation, Greta flung at him, ‘Go up with her! I’m not staying here, in your company, a moment longer!’
Christine turned to Luke as he entered her bedroom close on her heels, ‘I’ve made a date with Steve. We’re dining at his house.’
‘You’re going to the barbecue with me.’ Walking over to a chair, Luke sat down, hitching up a trouser leg and leaning back comfortably against the dainty satin upholstery.
‘But I’ve made the date!’
‘Which you ought not to have done. It’s a date you’re not going to keep, Christine, so forget it!’
Anger brought tears flooding into her eyes. ‘You can’t dictate to me!’ she cried, ‘I’m my own mistress and I’m nearly nineteen! I won’t be dictated to by you or anyone else!’ She paused, but what she was hoping for she did not know. She ought to be conversant enough with Luke’s firmness by now. Yes, the compression of the mouth and the narrowing of those tawny eyes. The flexing of the jaw and rigidity of the face as a whole. ‘Luke,’ she pleaded, ‘take me to Steve. We want to be together—’
‘If you don’t get a move on,’ broke in Luke, glancing at his watch, ‘it’s going to be half over before we get there.’
‘I—’ She pouted, then stamped her foot. ‘I’ve phoned Martha to say I can’t come!’
‘That doesn’t matter. She’ll be delighted that you made it after all.’
‘Steve—’
‘I’ll phone him on our way out.’ He glanced around and saw the phone, ‘I’ll do it now,’ he amended and rose from the chair.
‘You can’t!’ she cried in protest. ‘I won’t let you!’
He stopped and turned to her, his face set in wrathful lines. ‘Christine, I’ve had enough! Now, do you get that dress off or do I take it off for you?’ He was towering over her in what she could only describe as a threatening and domineering manner and the tears began to flow, running unhindered on to her dress. ‘Well, answer me!’
She sagged and wept into her hands, ‘I’ll change,’ she faltered and went with dragging feet to the wardrobe. After choosing a pair of bright blue cotton pants and a short-sleeved blouse, she went into the bathroom, not bothering to close the door properly. She listened to Luke on the telephone, hearing the harsh words spoken in a slightly raised voice.
‘No, she will not be coming! Christine’s going to the party with me. Steve—keep away from her! Do you understand? I am ordering, not telling! Keep away from Christine!’ A silence followed and then, isn’t it my business? ‘And what makes you think that? It is very much my business! I shall protect her—’ Another silence after Steve had obviously interrupted. Then Christine heard, ‘From you, but from herself as well!’ The receiver was replaced and, peeping out, Christine saw Luke go over to the window and stare out through the mosquito netting.
‘They’re having an affair!’ shouted Greta, her hands clenching and unclenching in fury. ‘She wanted him right from the first!’
‘Luke . . . please take me to Steve’s house.’ Christine knew full well how Luke would feel but she cherished the vague hope that he would do as she asked.
‘Why are you here?’ demanded Greta in quivering tones, ‘I’ve asked you once! Why don’t you answer me!’
‘I came to take Christine to the party.’
‘Martha’s and David’s?’ Christine looked up into a face of unsmiling disapproval. ‘You’re invited too?’ She had thought he was still away.
‘Why the surprise?’ returned Luke coldly. ‘They’re my friends, so you ought to have known I’d be invited.’ Again he glanced at her attire. ‘You’d better go and change into something more suitable to a barbecue,’ he said and released her. His eyes were on Greta as he added softly, ‘Either you stay here with me while I wait for Christine, or I accompany her to her room. Take your choice.’
So cool, and yet the firmness was apparent, and after a small hesitation, Greta flung at him, ‘Go up with her! I’m not staying here, in your company, a moment longer!’
Christine turned to Luke as he entered her bedroom close on her heels, ‘I’ve made a date with Steve. We’re dining at his house.’
‘You’re going to the barbecue with me.’ Walking over to a chair, Luke sat down, hitching up a trouser leg and leaning back comfortably against the dainty satin upholstery.
‘But I’ve made the date!’
‘Which you ought not to have done. It’s a date you’re not going to keep, Christine, so forget it!’
Anger brought tears flooding into her eyes. ‘You can’t dictate to me!’ she cried, ‘I’m my own mistress and I’m nearly nineteen! I won’t be dictated to by you or anyone else!’ She paused, but what she was hoping for she did not know. She ought to be conversant enough with Luke’s firmness by now. Yes, the compression of the mouth and the narrowing of those tawny eyes. The flexing of the jaw and rigidity of the face as a whole. ‘Luke,’ she pleaded, ‘take me to Steve. We want to be together—’
‘If you don’t get a move on,’ broke in Luke, glancing at his watch, ‘it’s going to be half over before we get there.’
‘I—’ She pouted, then stamped her foot. ‘I’ve phoned Martha to say I can’t come!’
‘That doesn’t matter. She’ll be delighted that you made it after all.’
‘Steve—’
‘I’ll phone him on our way out.’ He glanced around and saw the phone, ‘I’ll do it now,’ he amended and rose from the chair.
‘You can’t!’ she cried in protest. ‘I won’t let you!’
He stopped and turned to her, his face set in wrathful lines. ‘Christine, I’ve had enough! Now, do you get that dress off or do I take it off for you?’ He was towering over her in what she could only describe as a threatening and domineering manner and the tears began to flow, running unhindered on to her dress. ‘Well, answer me!’
She sagged and wept into her hands, ‘I’ll change,’ she faltered and went with dragging feet to the wardrobe. After choosing a pair of bright blue cotton pants and a short-sleeved blouse, she went into the bathroom, not bothering to close the door properly. She listened to Luke on the telephone, hearing the harsh words spoken in a slightly raised voice.
‘No, she will not be coming! Christine’s going to the party with me. Steve—keep away from her! Do you understand? I am ordering, not telling! Keep away from Christine!’ A silence followed and then, isn’t it my business? ‘And what makes you think that? It is very much my business! I shall protect her—’ Another silence after Steve had obviously interrupted. Then Christine heard, ‘From you, but from herself as well!’ The receiver was replaced and, peeping out, Christine saw Luke go over to the window and stare out through the mosquito netting.
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