The Brilliant Light of Amber Sunrise Read Free

the bedroom about half an hour later and passed out next to me, using a guest’s coat for a blanket. When she told me she felt sick I went to get a bucket to put next to the bed, and before she nodded back off she said she loved me. I knew she was drunk, but I believed that in this instance alcohol had allowed her to shed her inhibitions and speak from the heart.
    We were obviously destined to be together.
    â€œJulie, always a pleasure,” she said, standing aside in the doorway to let us in.
    â€œYou look like you’ve been exhumed,” Mum told her.
    â€œThat crease in your trousers is particularly succinct today.”
    â€œDo you want the Hoover or not?”
    â€œNot particularly, but needs must.”
    Mum and Fiona always had little jokes like this.
    â€œHi, hot stuff,” Fiona said, and grabbed me in a tight hug as I walked inside. She smelled of perfume and whisky. “I’m hungover like you wouldn’t believe here; can you help?”
    I hugged her back and dug out some chewing gum from my pocket.
    â€œIt’ll stimulate saliva, which might help dehydration. And sugar’s supposed to be good for a hangover,” I said. Shetook the chewing gum and put a piece in her shirt pocket.
    â€œYou are a curious one, Francis, a real find.”
    Fiona made jokes like this with me all the time too. I didn’t entirely understand them, but was happy to play along regardless.
    Mum made her way up the stairs with the Hoover and before we reached the landing we heard her yelling.
    â€œBloody hell, Christopher, it looks like a bomb’s gone off in here!”
    The rest of the household groaned.
    â€œVolume!” Chris said.
    â€œNo sympathy.” Mum began rolling the Hoover to the farthest corner of the room. Fiona came in carrying a chocolate candy bar and a blanket. She kicked Callum’s legs off the couch and sat down beside him, making a show of squishing herself deeper and deeper into the recesses of the couch.
    â€œDo you want some chocolate, Francis?” she asked, brandishing the bar at me from her nest.
    â€œNo, thanks, we had lunch in town.”
    â€œI remember a time when I used to have lunch,” she said, pretending to be sad, and started munching her way through the chocolate. “Now it’s all Red Cross parcels and harvest festival donations.”
    â€œSpeaking of which . . . here!” Mum threw the plastic bag of ground beef toward Chris. “Courtesy of Grandma.”
    â€œThanks. I suppose,” he said, examining the raw meat.
    Callum’s eyes widened. He shifted on the sofa, pressing himself backward like a shocked kitten, and for the first time since we’d arrived sat bolt upright. Then he lurched toward the door.
    â€œGoing to throw up!” he said, only just making it to the bathroom before the sound of damp retching started to echo off the porcelain bowl.
    â€œCharming. Look, we’re not stopping because we’ve got things to do,” said Mum, widening her eyes at me, which meant it was time to go.
    â€œHow you feeling now?” Chris asked me.
    â€œFine, I suppose. The optician said I had twenty-twenty vision, which means I could become a pilot or join the army, if the mood ever takes me.”
    â€œWorth the trip then,” he said.
    â€œI love a man in uniform,” said Fiona, sprawling over Callum’s place on the sofa and resting her head gently in Beth’s lap.
    On the mantelpiece, between the full ashtrays and the well-thumbed stacks of takeout leaflets, sat a chaotic pile of unopened mail. Mum surveyed the mess and shook her head. “Honestly, the money I spent on your education, and even life’s most basic skills are beyond you. And the state of this place . . .”
    â€œEnter Henry Hoover.”
    â€œWell, you do have to plug him in and use him, you know,” Mum said. “Just having him here won’t make any difference.”
    Chris grabbed a notepad