“A phone call on the move had been the only notice he gave, but there was no sense he’d caught the O.B. on the hop: supper was a pasta bake, and a big salad that hadn’t come from a bag. ‘You were wondering if you’d find me with a tin of beans in front of the telly.’ ‘Never.’ ‘I’m all right, you know, River. At my age, you’re either alone or dead. Either way, you get used to it.’ River’s grandmother had died four years ago. Now the Old Bastard, as River’s mother called him, rattled around the fou...r-bedroomed house on his own. ‘He should sell the place, darling,’ she’d said to River on one of her vanishingly rare visitations. ‘Get himself a nice little bungalow. Or move into one of those residential complexes.’ ‘I can see him going for that.’ ‘It’s not all daytime TV and abuse these day. They have,’ and she’d waved her hand airily; her standard semaphore for trivial detail, ‘regulations.’ ‘They could have Commandments,’ River told her.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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