BooksBarbecue
Back A Change of Circumstance
Chapters (67)
  1. Cover
  2. One
  3. Two
  4. Three
  5. Four
  6. Five
  7. Six
  8. Seven
  9. Eight
  10. Nine
  11. Ten
  12. Eleven
  13. Twelve
  14. Thirteen
  15. Fourteen
  16. Fifteen
  17. Sixteen
  18. Seventeen
  19. Eighteen
  20. Nineteen
  21. Twenty
  22. Twenty-One
  23. Twenty-Two
  24. Twenty-Three
  25. Twenty-Four
  26. Twenty-Five
  27. Twenty-Six
  28. Twenty-Seven
  29. Twenty-Eight
  30. Twenty-Nine
  31. Thirty
  32. Thirty-One
  33. Thirty-Two
  34. Thirty-Three
  35. Thirty-Four
  36. Thirty-Five
  37. Thirty-Six
  38. Thirty-Seven
  39. Thirty-Eight
  40. Thirty-Nine
  41. Forty
  42. Forty-One
  43. Forty-Two
  44. Forty-Three
  45. Forty-Four
  46. Forty-Five
  47. Forty-Six
  48. Forty-Seven
  49. Forty-Eight
  50. Forty-Nine
  51. Fifty
  52. Fifty-One
  53. Fifty-Two
  54. Fifty-Three
  55. Fifty-Four
  56. Fifty-Five
  57. Fifty-Six
  58. Fifty-Seven
  59. Fifty-Eight
  60. Fifty-Nine
  61. Sixty
  62. Sixty-One
  63. Sixty-Two
  64. Sixty-Three
  65. Sixty-Four
  66. Sixty-Five
  67. Sixty-Six

‘Oh, they’re not anti-vaxxers, they just can’t be bothered.’

‘It’s just January with you, then.’

‘Right, and I’m ready for a proper winter now . . . frost and ice and deep, deep snow.’

‘And limb fractures everywhere.’

‘Only I could do with a proper break . . . oops, didn’t mean that one.’

‘Really? What about Morocco? Sun there.’

‘The Alps . . . I haven’t been skiing for –’ He stopped and glanced down at his prosthetic right arm. ‘Maybe not. You know, skiing hasn’t even been on my list of things I’ll never be able to do again – and it’s a pretty short list.’

‘So it should be.’

‘Somewhere, anyway.’ Simon finished his coffee and gestured for another. ‘You?’

‘Yes, let’s go for it. There’s time.’

‘Until something kicks off.’

Four

The only actual cooking their dad did was a fry-up, which they had every morning, and that was it for the day. Otherwise, there were the tins and frozen packets they opened themselves. School dinners were free though there was never enough in them. But it wasn’t food the Ropers lacked. The Ropers – Tommy. Connor. Brookie. Alf.

That Wednesday morning, Brookie nearly missed the bus.

‘Where’s my trainers? Where’s my trainers?’ Nobody took any notice. Someone had always lost something, in the jumble sale that was their home. Brookie raced back upstairs.

His bed was head to tail with two others, and all of them spurting out mattress entrails, with assorted coverings, blankets, old curtains, thrown about anyhow. Tommy had a duvet, a new one, that had been still in its packaging when found in a skip but there had never been another and even that had no cover.

‘Brookie!’

The door slammed shut, frying pan and crockery slid off the draining board into the sink. Brookie ran after the others, trainers undone, as the bus was pulling up to their stop, Connor on first as usual, and straight into a seat. He stuck his leg out. By now Brookie should have been ready for it but he never was and crashed over sideways into some girl’s lap, to mass cheers.

When a day went wrong at the start, that day went on going wrong, and Brooklyn’s days were mostly like that now. He missed the primary school at Starly that they had all just walked to, so they got an extra half-hour in bed, and there were other things about secondary school he wasn’t keen on. He staggered into the last window seat and started drawing stick men on the steamed-up glass.