Free The Woman at the Window by Emyr Humphreys

it were a great adventure and bought ready-made meals and bottles of wine. He continued to take the dogs for their runs into the pine forest and down to the cove where they could scramble happily over the rocks. The thing he liked about dogs he said was they treated each day as though it had never happened before. And he was feeling a bit like that himself.
    â€˜You can see what he’s up to, can’t you?’
    Hefin seized a chance to demand Gisella’s close attention. He leaned over her as she concentrated on her translating. He spoke in a harsh whisper although there was no-one else within earshot. Gisella was unnerved by the intensity in his voice. It was something she had hoped not to hear. There had been a measured distance between father and son but a level of politeness. Within the limits of his boisterous nature, the parliamentarian was doing his best to please. Given time she had hoped for the possibility of a growing closer, a reconciliation even. It had been comforting for her to work on that assumption; at the very least to make the visit bearable; a stepping stone to better things.
    â€˜It’s second nature to him. He always uses people. Especially women. Get the female vote, he used to say, and then you’re halfway there. He’s trying to get at me through you. Don’t you see it?’
    She sighed deeply.
    â€˜Don’t you think he’s changed, Hefin? A changed man, I mean.’
    â€˜Politicians don’t change. That’s why we live out here, for God’s sake. Self-willing egotistical bullies with elephant skins pretending they know how to run the world. Remember that bunch of them at the Tait-Willis party in South Ken? Bryn Tanat strutting about full of his own importance. In or out of office, all busy feathering their own nests. Don’t you remember?’
    She remembered very well. It was the turning point in their lives. Hers particularly. A moment like a religious conversion. It was from that very party they made their escape together. She abandoned her natural Swiss caution, her meticulous research work, her metropolitan opportunities and threw in her lot with this handsome young artist of simmering rebellion and infinite promise. Escaping they believed from his father’s clutches and treadmill in search of a higher destiny. He was making an appeal to history, their history. He needed her. Her support. Her loyalty.
    â€˜He has really changed.’ She ventured to speak with a little more authority. ‘Politics don’t appeal to him any more. He told me they tried to shunt him off to the House of Lords. He said he wasn’t having any of it. The House of Lords is obsolete he said. Most of the system was out of date and useless. That’s what he said.’
    â€˜Did he?’
    â€˜Oh yes. That’s what he said.’
    â€˜And did he tell you how many companies he has joined as a non-executive director? The great socialist accumulating capital. Did he tell you that? He’s playing you like a little fish at the end of a line.’
    â€˜I’m not quite so stupid, Hefin. Designing a house in a landscape, this is something you’ve always wanted. You’ve said so. In every detail. From start to finish.’
    â€˜You can’t see any further than your nose. All the strings attached and you can’t see them.’
    â€˜At least it’s worth thinking about. Less financial pressure. Less worrying about money.’
    â€˜Ah! So that’s it!’
    â€˜A little more freedom, Hefin. A breathing space.’ 
    â€˜What a temptation… let me spell it out for you. I build
    the house and he lives in it and you live there as his housekeeper and nurse. He’s making an insurance policy for his old age. Manipulating every inch of the way. And you can’t see it.’
    â€˜Suppose that is true. The need for protection and comfort in old age is a human frailty not a fault.’
    She turned abruptly