The Good Parents by Joan London

Author:Joan London [LONDON, JOAN]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature
ISBN: 9781848874374
Publisher: Atlantic Books Ltd
Published: 2010-01-08T05:00:00+00:00

Where else in the world could you leave a house unlocked these days? The shadowy hallway ended in a large back room with a wall of windows, a kitchen at one side, a television, hi-fi and sagging couch at the other. Books, videos and newspapers were piled up on plank shelves around the couch. Pale sunlight streaked across the dusty slate floor. School notices, flyers, bills, sprouted from magnets on the fridge. This was where Jacob’s children had grown up. A house like an old shoe, so habitual that you no longer saw how down-at-heel it was.

How quiet it was. The silence of old stone rooms and trees in the wind. Out the back door was a line-up of wellingtons and rubber thongs and a huge pair of rotting sneakers. A breeze set off some wooden wind-chimes swaying from a rickety pergola. Jacob never had been a very convincing handyman. By the back shed an almond tree was breaking into early blossom. The yard was streaked with shadows from the pine trees.

She peered into rooms, which like those where famous people once lived (Rodmell, Garsington) appeared too small and crowded for the fabulous lives that had passed there. So this was Jacob’s great idealistic venture. All these years she’d thought of them as a sort of Holy Family, leading a radical spiritual life, a reproach to her frantic worldly pursuits.

Now she saw the ordinary muddle of people everywhere, bringing up children without a great deal of money. By the looks of it they’d built this back addition themselves. Off one side was a bedroom crammed with electronic equipment and a poster of Miles Davis. The boy’s room. She’d known houses like this in Bayswater, in Islington.

Rain started to patter on the iron roof. The fridge was empty apart from an open tin of dog food. She was reminded of the astounding domestic absent-mindedness of adolescent boys. The benches were greasy, and the floors were awash with dog hair. She parked her suitcase in the master bedroom, took off her coat and pushed up the sleeves of her black cashmere sweater.

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