Free Precious Time by Erica James

they held each other in could not have been higher. In Caspar’s view Damson could do no wrong, but as far as Jonah could see she had spent most of her adult life switching from one good cause to another with intermittent bouts of self-absorption. Of the three, she was the only one to have married. She was also the only one to have divorced twice, and lucratively so. She was currently going through what she called her ‘centred space’ phase and was living, in peace and harmony, in a commune in Northumberland, which she had described as a self-help therapy centre in a handcrafted Christmas card to Jonah last year.
    This latest search for her inner self was just another in a long line of explorations from which she would doubtless emerge to plunge back into the hedonistic lifestyle she enjoyed: men, partying, shopping, and whatever else made her think she was happy.
     
    Jonah didn’t think she had ever been truly happy.
     
    On the stroke of midnight, Jonah called it a day. It was handy living next door to a church: there was no danger of losing track of the time when the bells rang out every hour and slipped in a quick chime on the half-hour too.
    He had moved into Church Cottage last August when he had come back to the area as head of history at Deaconsbridge High. Before then he had been living over yonder border - as die-hard Deaconites called it - in neighbouring Cheshire. He had been ready for a change and had followed his instinct when he had seen the post advertised. It had seemed the right thing to do, given that his father was now on his own with little sign of Caspar or Damson offering any help around the house.
    And it was the house that was at the bottom of Caspar’s insistence that Jonah speak to Gabriel. Caspar could dress it up any way he liked, but Jonah knew his brother too well. Caspar didn’t give a damn about their father’s welfare: all he was concerned about was getting his hands on the capital that would be released if Mermaid House was sold. Jonah had no idea what Caspar did with the money he earned - he owned one of the most prestigious car dealerships in south Manchester and had to be ripping people off for a decent amount - but however much it was, it clearly wasn’t enough. Jonah had dared to query this the other day when Caspar had hinted that money from the sale would come in handy. He had been told in no uncertain terms to keep his nose out of things he didn’t understand.
    ‘Money is hardly your area of expertise, Jonah, so butt out! Just convince the old fool that he needs to move into something smaller and we’ll all be better off.’
    Much of what Caspar had said was true. Jonah wasn’t a financial pundit and their father had reached an age when he might be better off living in a property a tenth of the size of Mermaid House. He had been thinking the same thing ever since Val had died, but had never found the right time, or the courage, to broach it with Gabriel, not when he knew how insincere and grasping it might sound to their father. It was annoying, though, that Caspar’s thoughts had coincided with his, albeit for different reasons.
    What his brother didn’t know was that Jonah intended - if his father would listen to him - to make it clear that if Mermaid House was to be sold, Gabriel should not siphon off a penny of what it brought to his children to avoid inheritance tax, which, naturally, was the main thrust of Caspar’s argument for selling up now.
    Caspar would capitalise on a third-world disaster if he thought he could get away with it. And there were many things Caspar had got away with over the years. Just as he had stolen from Jonah as a child, he had continued through adulthood to help himself to anything else to which he took a fancy. So far Jonah had lost two girlfriends and a fiancee to his brother.
    Admittedly the loss of the girlfriends had taken place during his teens, but Emily had been another matter altogether and he wasn’t sure that he could ever