I watch a squirrel clean its whiskers. It stops suddenly, neat hands clasped in prayer as it stares across the canopy at the ocean of leaves that swell and tumble into the distance.
The black tower appeared in the garden overnight. I’d stumbled out of bed to make the tea, my seventy-odd years weighing like lead as I shuffled across the kitchen.
‘So will you come?’ asked Marianne.
‘Of course I’ll come,’ I said hugging my sister. ‘It’s a brilliant idea.’
He isnae mine, hasnae been for twelve years. I know that now. It took a good long while tae admit it and I’ve tried tae make up for lost time, for a’ the years I dithered about whether or not it wis true.
She was late back from work again and must have sensed my unease. To reassure me she said,
“I always tell you everything, Pete.”
Is it my turn? Well, yeah, I guess so. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be…So, okay. Here goes.
Hello. My name is Tom, and I am…