Shifting Sands Read Free Page A

but it was too big for one person, and once Ma was over the worst of her grief, it would make sense to put it on the market. But how many memories were tied up in it! Christmas dinners round the table in the dining room – Dad and Ma, himself and Sophie, and whichever relations happened to be staying over the holiday. Candlelight and Christmas trees and laughter. How long ago it all seemed.
    It was from here that he’d left for boarding school and, later, university; here that he’d brought Vicky to introduce her to his parents, and from here he’d set out for his wedding.
    His eyes fell on the Doulton figure on a side table, and another memory stirred. The day Tom had taken his first steps, he’d lurched against the table, knocking the ornament to the floor and breaking off its head. Jonathan had been mortified, but his parents took it in their stride. It had been repaired, and only a very close eye would discern the faint line on the neck.
    He sighed, swallowed the last of his whisky, and went to forage in the freezer. Food should put paid to this reminiscing.
    It was an hour later, as he’d finished eating and was watching the News at Ten , that the phone rang. He snatched it up. ‘Vicky?’
    A light laugh, then his sister’s voice. ‘Sorry, no!’
    â€˜Hi, Sophie. How are things?’
    â€˜Fine with us. More to the point, how are they with you?’
    â€˜OK, I suppose. I’ve just been wallowing in nostalgia, thinking how we’ll miss this place if Ma decides to sell.’
    â€˜Bricks and mortar, Jon, that’s all it is. She had a good flight, incidentally; no jet lag, but then there’s only an hour’s time difference.’
    â€˜Talk about breaking news! How the hell do you know that?’
    â€˜Tamsin just phoned and mentioned that she’d texted her.’
    Tamsin, at present away at boarding school, was his thirteen-year-old niece, and, in Jonathan’s opinion, a right little madam. ‘So how’s it going so far?’
    â€˜Well, you know Ma. She’d rather die than admit she wasn’t enjoying herself, especially to us, when we talked her into going.’
    â€˜So what did she say?’
    â€˜That she went up Table Mountain and saw some funny creatures called rock rabbits.’
    â€˜Nothing earth-shattering, then.’
    Sophie homed in on his opening query. ‘Are you expecting Vicky to ring?’
    Damn; he’d hoped she’d forgotten that. ‘Not really, no.’
    â€˜You have spoken to her, since you arrived?’
    â€˜Yes, and arranged to pick up the boys tomorrow.’
    â€˜So why might it have been her on the phone?’
    He sighed. ‘If you must know, I’d suggested having a discussion, but she gave me short shrift. I hoped she might have changed her mind.’
    There was a moment’s silence. ‘You want to go back, then?’
    â€˜In a word, yes.’
    â€˜You’re going to change your wicked ways?’
    â€˜Oh, for God’s sake, Sophie! I’m in no mood for flippancy.’
    â€˜Poor love, you do sound down. You must come and have a meal one evening.’
    â€˜Thanks,’ he said. ‘Was that why you rang?’
    â€˜Partly, and partly just to see how you are, rattling around in an empty house.’
    â€˜Not enjoying it much, to be frank. Still, there’s a freezer-full of goodies, so at least I shan’t starve.’
    â€˜Well, don’t brood. Vicky hasn’t been too happy since you left, so if you want to make up, come straight out and say so.’
    â€˜That was my intention, but she foiled it.’
    â€˜Then try again; you can’t give up at the first hurdle. And I’ll phone you during the week, when you’re back in town.’
    She rang off. Why hadn’t he thought of texting Ma? Jonathan wondered. Probably because he seldom texted anyone, preferring a vocal exchange. Nonetheless, phone calls to South