Twenty-Six Years Ago

The phone rings and he picks it up… “Hello?” … then jolts as he hears the voice.

“Davey? Is that you?”

“Shelley? Yes, it’s me.” He pauses, looks over his shoulder then around the doorway into the lounge. “Shelley, Stephen’s not here right now, but I’ll have to talk quietly. How are you? Why are you calling? After all this time, why are you calling now?”

“Davey…” Her voice trembles. “I was wondering if… Would it be possible for me to come home?”

“Home?” He holds the receiver as though accusing it of lying. “You want to come home? Shelley, has something happened? Are you alright?”

“Yes, something’s happened, and… no, I’m not alright. Do you think I could come? Would that be... possible?”

“Permanently you mean? To leave the City?”

Clumping sounds in the background; Stephen coming down the stairs. “Who is it?”

“Ah… no-one.”

Stephen looks at him askance. “No-one? What’s that supposed to mean?”

David takes a breath. “It’s Shelley.”

“Shelley?” Stephen looks upstairs. “And what does she want?”

with a hand. “She wants to come home. I

was a lot wrong when she took off the way she did. I thought it would kill Dad. She’s not

“Steph…”

not coming back here. Don’t ring again. You’re not welcome.” He starts to slam the

don’t mind, I’d like to talk to our

mine.

Something has happened and… Oh, God, please Davey, I’m

can’t make any promises. Can you tell me what’s

down on the cradle. “So she’s in trouble. You know how she was earning

Steve,

begins at home and she’s not coming

*****

The Present - James

the door:

A grunt; “Door’s open.”

as he stoops over site schematics spread flat, pinned at the corners with ashtrays, a spanner and a wilting pot plant. “Got five

have, James.” He jerks his chin to a stack of mugs.

“Thanks, yes.”

by years of shouting outdoor instructions up gantries and scaffolding, and across acres. He pours from the kettle and passes me the cup. I eye the chipped and stained enamel for signs

God for boiling

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