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boyhood, ‘It won’t do, Felix, my boy. You can do better than that.’ He surveyed his son in silence. ‘She is an attractive young woman – but as a wife? You must not even contemplate this.’
    â€˜Must not? Of course I must!’ Felix answered, further infuriated. ‘And I’m afraid that whether you like it or not, there’s nothing you can do about it.’ Though he knew there was. Osbert could withhold funds, and without money … Felix had never been extravagant, he was like his father in that money was not an overriding priority with him – all right, he might have overspent his allowance occasionally, and written cheques towards what Kay and Margaret were pleased to call the revolution – but to be without altogether … ‘You won’t stop me. I love her,’ he countered defiantly.
    â€˜And she?’
    â€˜Well, of course.’
    Felix was not unaware that women had always been attracted by his rather louche good looks, his lanky height, those vivid blue eyes and the boyish flop of dark hair over his forehead, and he would not admit, much less to his father, his aggrieved astonishment that Vinnie hadn’t exactly fallen at his feet – but that was only a matter of time.
    â€˜No,’ Osbert repeated, white to the lips now, ‘you’ve sprung this on me, but I’m warning you, it must not go ahead. You’ve disappointed me before, but this you will not do. I shall move heaven and earth to prevent it.’
    And however extreme and outrageous that was, however totally unfair, Felix had believed him.
    The contretemps had taken place in the garden, where he had happened to come across his father and had blurted out his intentions without having planned what to say. Perhaps, he reflected bitterly, he ought to have submitted a written request to talk to him in his study. Yet oddly, as Osbert rose abruptly from the garden bench and left, typically turning his back and putting an end to something he would rather not continue with, leaning heavily on the cane he had recently come to need, Felix had watched him go back into the house with a feeling of unutterable guilt.
    And now, paradoxically, the opposition to his marrying Vinnie having gone, the whole thing no longer seemed so very urgent – or even, maybe, desirable. What if Osbert had been right – that he and Vinnie did not yet know enough about each other to commit themselves to a lifetime together? Had her reluctance only served to egg him on? He didn’t think she was the sort to play hard to get, but you never knew.
    And then, as it was inclined to do only too often, the image of Judy Cash popped into his mind. Judy, a small sprite with dancing grey eyes and a straight blonde bob, whom everyone else thought so smart and brittle, yet who followed him around like a stray kitten that wanted to be loved, despite his giving her little encouragement. Well, except for … He ground his teeth and pushed aside those insane moments under the great chestnut by the lake in the park the other night. The devil of it was, he was not sure whether he even liked her, but she excited and intrigued him. Perhaps because, despite her willingness, she was a bit of an enigma. There were even times when he had a feeling of danger around her. Unlike Vinnie, who was an open book and lived in the present, seemingly enjoying every minute.
    As a boy, Felix had hero-worshipped his father. The hand on his shoulder that was like an accolade, Osbert’s rare smiles, had been prizes to strive for.
Right up until later adolescence, he had revered him as a man of integrity who had fought for his country and found honour in battle, losing his right arm in the process, along with the life of a soldier which up to then had been his whole raison d’être. Felix had pitied him from the bottom of his heart, though he had learnt not to show it. Osbert had never admitted to disappointment, or even to