The Shift Key by John Brunner Read Free Book Online

brewed in the traditional fashion. ‘You do know what he’s up to, I suppose?’
    Cedric nodded. Around a mouthful of crumbs he said, ‘He wants to carve up the library and sell it to America.’
    ‘That’s right. He can’t get over the fact that neither the house nor its contents belong to him, although he treats them as though they do.’ A heavy sigh. ‘Sometimes I wish, you know, that I hadn’t let his mother keep him under her wing –’
    ‘Far past the proper time,’ Cedric supplied. ‘Yes,
Gramps.
You have told me before, and I’ve always agreed.’
    ‘Then what about yourself?’ – eyebrows bristling. ‘You evidence no great desire to flee the nest!’
    ‘Oh, I live in hopes. One of these days I’ll probably pack a bag and hitchhike round the world.’ Cedric’s tone was light; it was hard, even for his grandfather, to know whether he intended to be taken seriously.
    ‘Damned young escapist!’ Marmaduke rumbled, though there was a twinkle in his eye. ‘And suppose while you’re away the lightning strikes and he and I and your mother allget carried off?’
    ‘I’d come back at a run, and make this place into a pilgrims’ refuge. Have you heard that phrase? Vic Draycock, who teaches history at Powte, applies the term “pilgrim” to the young folk who come here in the summer –’
    ‘Don’t talk to me about them!’ his grandfather barked. ‘They’re a bunch of lazy, drug-addicted layabouts! Most of them have never turned their hands to honest work!’
    Cedric concealed a sigh. He said placatingly, ‘You must remember how few alternatives are open, what with unemployment at an all-time high –’
    ‘There’s always some work needing to be done!’
    And more under our present lords and masters than under most we’ve had before
…
    But Cedric bit that back. Seeking politer turns of phrase, he was saved by, if not the bell, a shout. It was his mother, Helen, in the entrance hall.
    ‘Basil!
Basil!
You’re sitting at Chapminster today – have you forgotten?’
    ‘Coming!’ was the loud reply, and doors were slammed. By then Cedric had worked out what he most wanted to say and what, he thought, his grandfather would best accept.
    He said daringly, ‘Would you rather see me keeping up a front like Dad, sitting on the magistrates’ bench and pretending that everything’s all right when in a juster world he’d be in court himself? He’s the next best thing, to bankrupt, isn’t he? Would you really like me to turn into the same sort of hypocrite?’
    Marmaduke seemed uneasy, and evaded his grandson’s eyes as he hunted for a proper reply.
    ‘You mustn’t think he’s unaware of his responsibilities, you know,’ he said at last. ‘Why, only last night I heard him pacing up and down the river-terrace, right below my window, worrying aloud about his problems.’
    ‘One of which,’ said Cedric softly, ‘he calls – you.’
    For an instant he feared he’d overstepped the mark. The old man’s mouth set in a thin accusing line, and behind the curtain of his beard his Adam’s apple bobbed on his stringy throat, sure harbinger of an explosive outburst.
    At that moment, though, in strode Helen, tall and lean.
    She had been a model when Basil met her a quarter of a century before, and never given up the habits she’d been trained to. Not a wisp of her blonde hair was out of place above her strong-boned face; her make-up was flawless; red ovals flashed on all her fingertips. As befitted a country setting, not the town, she had donned a V-neck pullover, its neckline filled in with a bright silk scarf, and jeans … but designer jeans, of course, their label prominent on her still-shapely bottom.
    As usual, Cedric thought she looked ghastly, like one of the living dead. But he had never said so. He only went on wondering privately, as he had for years, how many of his father’s debts were due to keeping up her wardrobe.
    ‘The bloody coffee’s cold,’ was all she said before she