The scientists gathered that morning, as they always did. They parked their cars in their allotted spaces, after each battling their way through their own daily commute of roadworks, train delays or wrestling offspring into school uniforms. They made themselves a drink upon arrival. A few even had time to prepare a little breakfast. Nothing fancy. A slice of toast here. A bowl of porridge there. The occasional croissant or fad fruit sliced into yogurt.Read More
When we finally sat down to eat, I made a strategic decision to avoid the bacon sandwiches. I stuck to the salmon, fresh bread and snacks and found myself watching, with a morbid sort of curiosity, as Mum polished off sandwich after sandwich.Read More
They made accessories of themselves and others. They lived by aesthetics. The right physique. The right magazine left, unread but skimmed, on the right worktop. Their unused, designer golf clubs sitting next to their skeletal framed racing bikes. Bikes that would squeal and throw up their handlebars should mud ever touch their shiny paintwork.Read More
The reason he gave was truly bizarre. The fact he tied it back to my grandfather only baffled me more.
“You remember your granny’s funeral,” he’d said. “The priest putting his arm on your granddad’s shoulder. Your granddad screaming so hard all the birds flew out the trees.”
“Sure,” I told him. “I remember.”Read More
There were photos running up the stairs. The evolution of Sarah. When she went downstairs, she could reverse time. Go from awkward pre-teen to fidgety middle school girl. From nursery nativity darling to pudgy toddler. From first birthday to hospital bundle.Read More
Curtains twitched. Featureless faces peered out. None of these people grew up around here. They’d swooped in from their daily commute, invading the moment these houses went on the market. They’d bloated the morning traffic queues and caused house prices to soar thanks to their private road. Well, it wasn’t so private tonight. He was claiming some curb for a free, front row seat.Read More