Free Dying Flames by Robert Barnard Page A

like.”
    â€œWell, he looks his age: midtwenties. If you’d asked me to guess, that’s what I’d have said. He’s a lot bigger than you, quite wide across the shoulders, but there’s a lot of flesh there. I like my men skinnier. He’s probably an inch or two taller than you, and he’s got these chubby cheeks, wavy dark hair, and he kind of looks—I don’t know…”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œOf being, on top, rather smug, though underneath I think he’s rather confused.”
    â€œYou got a lot out of a brief glimpse.”
    â€œOh, but I didn’t have just a glimpse…I let him go by and saw him go into number twenty-five. Then I just sat and waited for a half hour or so. I didn’t want to interrupt their long-overdue reunion.”
    â€œSensitive of you, if rather cynically expressed.”
    â€œThat about sums up my feelings about Mum. I could have imagined that she might be pleased and emotional about the whole thing, but she’s never mentioned him. So that I couldn’t believe that he meant very much to her.”
    â€œBut eventually you invented an excuse for going back, I assume.”
    â€œOf course. I gave them plenty of time to take the first steps, then I walked back home, let myself in, shouted, ‘Sorry, I forgot a book,’ and went straight upstairs. I nearly shouted, ‘I won’t interrupt,’ which I would have done if it had been one of Peggy’s men who was there, but I definitely did intend to interrupt, so luckily I didn’t. As it turned out, when I came downstairs with a book in my hand—I’d left my bag with all the other books in it down by the gate—there he was in the door of the sitting room. He came forward with his hand out. ‘Hi!’ I said. ‘I’m Christa Webster, Peggy’s daughter.’ He shook my hand. ‘I’m Terry Telford,’ he said. ‘I’m Peggy’s son. Your elder brother.’ ”
    â€œDid you act surprised?”
    â€œIf I did, I didn’t do it convincingly. Mum was behind the sitting room door, watching us. She said, like she was accusing me, ‘You knew. Knew about Terry. Someone told you.’ Poor Terry was starting to look really confused by this time. She said, ‘It must be that blasted father of mine. Though he and Mum were very keen to keep it quiet at the time, and I thought they had since as well…. I’m pretty sure Graham never knew, but you’ve met him recently, and I did sort of…’ And Terry said, ‘Who’s Graham?’ Peggy didn’t reply directly. She just took him in her arms and said, ‘I think there’ve been enough surprises for one evening, don’t you, Terry darling?’ ”
    â€œI can see her point,” said Graham.
    â€œYeah, I guess. Better not make a meal of it. Anyway, Mother gave me a warning look, meaning I should make myself scarce, so I thought I’d stay a little longer. I looked at Terry and said, ‘So where have you been all my life?’ which was really aimed at her, not him. He smiled, a bit awkwardly, and said he’d been with his adoptive parents, and they’d gone to America for a while, but now they were home again, and so was he. I said, ‘Are you still living with your parents?’ and he said no, he’d moved out, and was doing supply teaching.”
    â€œSupply teaching? That can be tough. Is he doing it in the London area? I should think that’s tantamount to slow suicide.”
    â€œI think it’s in London,” said Christa thoughtfully. “His parents live in Wimbledon, and he used their address when he posted his appeal on the Internet. He says he’s trying to get his American degree recognized here, then he’ll apply for permanent jobs.”
    â€œWell, that fills in the gaps,” said Graham. “Anything else?”
    â€œWhen I refused to go, or rather just