When Sharon let her father-in-law in she could see immediately that he had had a few too many. She opened him a bottle of Beck’s, hoping he’d leave when he was done, and he drained it quickly. She was beginning to dread his visits. The way he looked at her made her feel uneasy. She sensed he wanted her and she was frightened. He was the grandfather of her boys – it was wrong.

He talked about Lenny all the time, pointing out how alike they were, saying that her sons needed a male influence. It was creepy and it was also something she didn’t know how to deal with. Her father would lose it if she told him her fears. He would commit murder. And she had to think of Lesley, the sainted mother-in-law, who never lost a chance to tell her what she was doing wrong with her fatherless boys. She’d never believe it. She’d blame Sharon for stirring up lies.

Sharon sighed in consternation. She poured herself a whisky and looked at the man sprawled on her sofa. She guessed he needed to be drunk to come to see her. Sober, he was a sensible man. But with a drink in him, he felt the urge to come to her and try, in his clumsy way, to tell her he loved her. It was so awful. She listened as he told her that she was a young woman still, how she needed an older man, a man who would keep her happy, who would be a mentor to her sons. Sons who needed a firm hand, a strong influence in their lives so they didn’t go to the bad. She felt physically sick listening to him; she didn’t know what to do. The last thing she wanted was a confrontation of any kind with her mother-in-law. That would cause too much hurt and bad feeling, and she didn’t understand why this man couldn’t see that. She didn’t want him, and she didn’t want the trouble and heartache that would follow if this ever got out. As if she would go near him! It was disgusting even to contemplate.