Theft On Thursday
“Everything was familiar. The garden, neat and tidied for the winter, with the trees that Gerald had planted. The sundial, with its small cherub telling sun time. She remembered when they bought it, she and Gerald. She had been pregnant with Sandy … She turned away from the window, consumed with grief. It was a terrible pain, doubling her up and increasing, instead of fading away. She moaned and ran from the room. Where could she go? Into the kitchen? The bedroom? Sandy’s old room, with all the ...tangible memories of his boyhood? There was nowhere to escape from the unacceptable truth. Sandy was dead. Her only son, only child, was dead. The second death.
Brian’s telephone call had come early. She had not recognized his voice, and had to ask several times who it was, ringing her before breakfast. He had finally mastered a sudden stutter, and said the awful words. God, oh God, they were such awful words! If she had not answered the phone, or slammed it down when she knew who it was, she would have had a little more time.MoreLess
Brian’s telephone call had come early. She had not recognized his voice, and had to ask several times who it was, ringing her before breakfast. He had finally mastered a sudden stutter, and said the awful words. God, oh God, they were such awful words! If she had not answered the phone, or slammed it down when she knew who it was, she would have had a little more time.MoreLess
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