Laura Possessed Read Free

head!’
    â€˜Sounds rather sinister!’ Caroline said with a delicate shiver.
    â€˜Yes, but fascinating. What’s the reason for it all? Why, suddenly, do we have these outbursts of assassinations, hijackings, kidnappings—’
    â€˜Because,’ put in Edward drily, ‘we haven’t had a war for thirty years and man is naturally an aggressive animal.’
    â€˜Spoken like an Englishman, darling!’ Caroline remarked. ‘What do you imagine has been going on in Korea, Vietnam, Palestine—even Ireland, over the last twenty years? No war, indeed!’
    â€˜No major war, I meant. Only limited numbers were involved and the rest of us have to suppress our aggression as best we can. In some cases that causes trouble. Remember me speaking of Clive Sandilands, Laura? You should have a word with him. He’s engaged in writing a book on America in the sixties to be called, I believe,
The Violent Decade.
He could well be of some help to you.’
    â€˜I don’t know that I’d dare to approach anyone as eminent as Clive Sandilands,’ Laura murmured, ‘even if he is a friend of yours.’
    â€˜As a matter of fact, you’ll have the chance to meet him on Sunday. Tom Howard, the managing director of our newspaper group, is giving a cocktail party. We’re all invited and I know for a fact that Clive will be there. He’s only over here for a couple of weeks—virtually lives in the States now. If you’re really interested in violence, he’s the one to fill you in.’
    â€˜I very much doubt whether I’ll be up to a cocktail party,’ Laura said dubiously. At last the heat from the fire was beginning to soothe away the deep chill that had enveloped her, and her eyelids felt heavy again.
    Caroline reached forward and took her empty cup. ‘I thought you’d be tired and when I heard Edward call, I slipped into your room and switched on the electric blanket. It will be nice and warm for you now.’
    â€˜That sounds very tempting.’
    â€˜Edward, have you brought the cases in from the car? Perhaps you could get them while I take Laura up.’
    Laura allowed herself to be helped to her feet, dismayed at her extreme lassitude. Her footsteps faltered as they reached the hall and she glanced almost fearfully towards the front door. It looked perfectly ordinary—a solid, handsome oak door with nothing about it to account for those few moments of paralyzing terror. Yet even as she reassured herself, she was aware of a movement just beyond her vision and turned quickly, expecting that someone else had come into the hall. There was no one there, but the remembered sense of creeping cold stole back towards her.
    â€˜All right?’ Caroline asked, feeling her involuntary jerk. Her breath was shallow and uneven and she had none to spare for a reply. She nodded and went on up the stairs, Caroline’s arm supporting her.
    The bedroom into which they went was bright and fresh with a pretty floral paper and pale blue carpet. A gas-fire boosted the heat from the radiator which ran under the window, and Laura exclaimed with pleasure. Pushing aside her uneasiness, she moved across to the window and leant for a moment on the sill looking out across the garden.
    â€˜What strange, twisted trees!’ she commented. ‘I bet the boys have a marvellous time climbing them!’
    â€˜Trees?’ Caroline paused in the act of turning down the counterpane. ‘What trees?’
    â€˜Those, at the bottom of the garden.’ Laura turned back to the window and stiffened unbelievingly. Beyond the lawn and flower beds was a neat patch of soil obviously destined later in the year to supply the vegetables for the house. ‘But—I’m sure I saw—’
    â€˜You mean the pear and the plum, against the wall?’
    â€˜No, I—they were down at the bottom—’
    â€˜Possibly in the first quick glance your