The Memory Tree by Tess Evans Read Free Book Online

room and begin his nightly ritual: peering into the wardrobe, looking under the bed, testing the window locks, tapping the walls and finally his voice calling down the stairs.
    ‘Okay. I’m in bed now.’
    She has perfected the timing, and hurries upstairs with his tray.

    Sealie climbs into her little blue Corolla. It’s her first car and she has had it for fourteen years. She knows she should replace it soon, but it’s comfortable, like an old shoe. Apart from some wear in the driver’s seat which she has concealed with a sheepskin cover, the old car is still respectable. She knows she’ll drive it till it falls apart. Undeniably middle-aged, Sealie has become set in her ways. A new car would be too radical a step to contemplate with any seriousness. So how, she wonders, can she possibly cope with the massive change she must now confront? She and Zav have made a life. Not much of a life, it’s true. But it’s their life and it’s predictable and safe. A sharp toot tells her she’s blocking the fast lane and she moves over to let the other car pass. She must concentrate on her driving. Leave the future to the future.
    Hal is sitting meekly in his silk dressing-gown when Sealie arrives. She’s still uneasy with this passivity, his customary demeanour for the last few years. The medical staff have all assured her that time and treatment have rendered him harmless but she senses a small burning coal behind his mild regard. She’s not sure what it means. She can only hope it’s remorse.
    ‘Dad? How are you today?’ Sealie fidgets a little with her packages, giving Hal the Cherry Ripe but retaining the wrapping as the rules demand.
    Hal accepts the sweet, biting thoughtfully into the rich, dark chocolate, savouring the taste and poking around with his tongue for an errant flake of coconut. ‘Zav not here then?’
    Sealie swallows and checks a rising impatience. Zav is never there. ‘No,’ she says shortly. She won’t make excuses for Zav. And why should she? It would be a betrayal. She sits down and accepts a cup of tea from the trolley. Stirs her sugar long after it has dissolved. Clears her throat.
    ‘Dad. This is the last time I’ll be visiting before you come home.’ She glances at him in an effort to detect his response. He merely nods. Probably doped to the eyeballs , thinks Sealie. She can’t resist the question. ‘Are you looking forward to coming home?’
    Hal’s eyes flare for a moment. His voice is petulant. ‘Home? This is home.’
    Sealie sighs. ‘I’ve explained it all before, Dad. They’re closing this place down. You have to come home. There’s nowhere else to go.’
    ‘Will Zav be there?’ The same question—over and over and over.
    ‘Of course Zav will be there.’
    ‘Poor Zav. Is he still angry? I need to explain.’
    Sealie looks at her father. Despite herself, she pities the gaunt frame, the lost eyes, the vulnerable, naked skull. Her hands twist and tear at the red sweet wrapper.
    ‘Is he still angry, Sealie?’ Hal asks the question humbly, fearfully.
    She shrugs. It’s better that he knows. ‘Zav hasn’t forgiven you. He never will.’
    ‘No. Of course not. Why should he?’ He grabs her arm. ‘If only I could explain . . . He might . . .’ Hal slumps in his chair. His need for absolution bleeds from every pore and Sealie looks at him with pity and horror. He has never asked if she has forgiven him. It’s a question she doesn’t want to explore.
    Hal straightens suddenly, with a curious dignity. ‘Tell him he needn’t worry. I’m in the habit of keeping myself to myself.’
    ‘Yes. That would be best, I think.’
    When Sealie goes, I linger beside my grandfather as he catches his breath in a sob or perhaps it’s just a sigh. He picks up the book Sealie has brought and flicks through the pages. He pats his pocket for his reading glasses and perches them on his nose. The book is by a new author. It looks alright, but these new writers aren’t a patch on Asimov