Free The Two Timers by Bob Shaw

between

Kate and the necessities of domestic life. What time does Mrs. Fitz get

here, anyway?"

"She won't be coming," Kate answered tartly. "I called and told her we

wouldn't need her for a few days."

John appeared not to hear. He was leaning on the window ledge with his

ear close to a radio, apparently waiting for something. Jack ignored him

and turned back to Kate.

"There you are!" He smiled. "You wouldn't have to do it if I wasn't here.

I'm entitled to help."

"It's all ready. Please sit down."

Kate's eyes met his briefly and he almost reached out to take what was

his. Instead, he sat compliantly at the table while all his instincts

protested their frustration. The exhaustion of the previous night had

lifted, and once again his mind was filled with the wonder of Kate's

existence. She was alive, warm, real; in the aura of her emotional

significance more miraculous than all the starry infinities of the Time B

universe. . . .

John Breton's fingers suddenly spun the volume control on the radio and

the voice of a newscaster washed through the kitchen, causing Kate to frown

at him.

"Do we need that radio so loud?"

"Keep quiet a minute."

"I don't see why -- "

"Just keep quiet!" John twisted the control to its limit and the

announcer's voice boomed out, rippled with electronic distortions.

" . . . now continuing in the eastern hemisphere. A spokesman for

the Mount Palomar observatory said the meteor display was already

the most brilliant in history, and was showing no signs of slackening

off. Televised reports from Tokyo -- where the meteor display is now

at its height -- will be available on major networks as soon as the

malfunctioning of the communications satellites, which developed a few

hours ago, has been corrected.

"Mr. C.J. Oxtoby, president of Ustel -- the major satellite operating

agency -- has denied an early report that the Courier satellites were

drifting out of the synchronous orbit. Another possible explanation for

the communications failure of last night -- which have already led to

the filing of massive compensation claims by a number of civil users --

is that the satellites have suffered meteor damage.

"And now, on the local scene, fierce objections to the one-way street

system proposed . . ."

John Breton turned the radio off.

"The world still goes on," he said with a hint of challenge in his voice,

somehow excusing himself for not having had anything important to say

on the subject of the John-Kate-Jack triangle. Jack briefly wondered to

whom the apology was addressed.

"Of course it does. The world does still go on. Have some breakfast and

don't think about it too much." Jack felt a macrocosmic amusement at

his other self's preoccupation with trivia.

"I don't like those meteors," John said as he sat down. "Yesterday was

one hell of a day. A gravimetric survey goes haywire, the Palfreys arrive,

I drink a ruinous quantity of Scotch I don't even want, I take the longest

trip for years, even the sky starts to play tricks, and then . . ."

"To cap it all, I show up," Jack completed. "I know it's tough on you,

but don't forget I have every right to be here. We settled all that

last night."

" You settled it," John muttered ungraciously. "I don't see how
I can even talk this thing over with Kate while you're hanging around us.

"What is there to talk over?" Jack Breton ate steadily as he spoke,

enjoying himself.

John's fork clattered to his plate. He sat with hunched shoulders for

a moment, looking down at it, then raised his eyes to Kate in a level

stare of disgust.

"Well, how about it? Have you weighed up our various merits and demerits

yet?"

"Don't look at me like that." Kate's voice was taut with anger. "You're

the man around this house -- if you don't like Jack being here why don't

you do something positive about it?"

"Positive? You're the one that's in a position to do something positive

-- he said so himself. All you've to do is tell him to leave