Precious Time by Erica James

Author:Erica James
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: For the Benefit of Mr. Kite
Published: 2000-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Friday, 2. December

Well, he’s finally done it. I never thought he would, but he’s sold up. And I know he feels terrible about it. He won’t say anything, of course, but the whole thing has taken a far greater toll on him than he will ever admit to.

And why did he have to sell to a rival firm of engineers? A firm he’s despised for as long as I can remember. A firm that will strip his business for its assets and throw the rest to the dogs. It’s as if he’s done it deliberately. As though out of spite he wants the whole thing to implode in on itself. He says he doesn’t care what happens to it. “I’ve washed my hands of it,” he said this afternoon, when he came home after his meeting with the lawyers and accountants and poured himself a large glass of his most expensive malt whisky. But I simply can’t believe he meant it. “What about all those men and women who have worked so loyally for you?” I asked him. “Don’t you care what will happen to them?” He grunted something I couldn’t make out and told me I didn’t understand. Maybe I don’t. But what I do understand is that what Gabriel devoted his life to, and his father before him, has to mean something. I also understand how much it hurts him that none of his children wanted to step into his shoes – he so badly wanted at least one of them to do that. But I can see it from their point of view too: they have their own dreams to follow.

Why does he always have to take things so personally?

♦

Again, the sound of footsteps – less hurried ones this time – had Clara furtively hiding the diary. She stuffed it back into the hatbox and pretended to be folding a matted Fair Isle sweater.

“Dad sent me up with your elevenses and an apology for being late.” It was Jonah with a mug and a plate of ginger nuts. He handed her the mug and put the plate on the dressing-table, clearing a space for it among the mess. “How’s it going?”

“Slowly.”

He looked about the room. “I guess it’s easier if you’re detached from it. I know I’d struggle to be objective. I did try to do it for Dad, but it was probably too soon for him.” He settled his gaze on the sweater she had just folded. “I remember Val knitting that. It was a Christmas present for Dad but it shrank and ended up fitting her better than him. She only ever wore it in the garden. Oh, and if it helps things between us, apparently the engagement’s off.”

For a moment she thought he was referring to what she had just been reading in the diary – the engagement between him and Emily – but then she realised he couldn’t possibly be talking about that. “Sorry?”

He shrugged. “It’s okay, you don’t have to carry on with the game any more.

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