Little did I imagine at the time that it was my own father to whom he referred. He was unable to possess Lucy's hand as he had in the cinema, separated by the annoying chasm between the van's plush seats. He looked from the sword to the dagger with which he had brought her down here, and grimaced. He had had five children at irregular intervals, of whom Ann Veronica was the youngest, so that as a parent he came to her perhaps a little practised and jaded and inattentive; and he called her his “little Vee,” and patted her unexpectedly and disconcertingly, and treated her promiscuously as of any age between eleven and eight-and-twenty. I don't have a phone in my room.
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