Read Online Seventy-Seven Clocks by Christopher Fowler - Free Book Online

system!’ Gwen shook her head sadly. ‘No, I know these rebellious feelings, and believe me, they only last for a couple of years. I blame all these students marching over Vietnam. Americans are trying to halt the spread of Communism, and they’re getting no thanks for it. You’ll see, soon you’ll want the things we wanted at your age . . .’ 
    ‘I’m not like you and Jack. I don’t have the same values. Don’t you see how much things are changing? I don’t even know what I want yet. I’m just trying to figure out what I don’t want.’ 
    ‘I suppose you think we’re snobs,’ replied her mother, stung. ‘Well, I really have to put my foot down this time, Geraldine. I couldn’t possibly allow you to leave home yet. I hate to bring this up . . .’ Jerry groaned inwardly, knowing what was coming. ‘After your illness, your father and I knew we had to do something to help you. That’s why we set up the trust in your name. We wanted to help you make a start in life. That trust matures when you are twenty-one, and until then we are empowered to influence your decisions about the future.’ 
    She reached forward and sealed her hands over her daughter’s, pink nails ticking on the tabletop. ‘You know we love you. Darling, it’s for your own good. You’ll see one day that I was right. When you come of age, you’ll be able to choose for yourself. Until then, carry on in this job, if that’s what you want. But think about your father’s offer. Eventually you’ll meet a nice boy. You’ll want to settle down and start thinking about children. It’s only natural. And hopefully by that time you’ll be ready to assume your responsibilities in the business, just a couple of days a week, nothing taxing. You’re lucky that girls are taken seriously in the workforce these days. You can be a mother and still have a nice career.’ 
    ‘Like you, you mean.’ 
    At the moment nothing seemed less desirable than following in her parents’ footsteps. She knew there was no point in trying to explain her confusion to Gwen. 
    ‘Anyway, how is the Savoy?’ asked her mother, switching subjects to fill the uncomfortable silence. 
    ‘Someone dropped dead in the foyer on Monday, and the police think it was murder. Apparently the newspapers are suggesting he was a spy.’ 
    ‘Why have I not heard about this? Is nowhere safe any more? Did you know there are homeless people sleeping in the Strand? It’s dreadful.’ Gwen checked her watch and rose to leave. ‘I have to go. Stay and finish your coffee, and remember what I said. You can try speaking to your father, but it won’t make any difference. I know he feels the same way I do. Can you believe this weather? I haven’t seen fog like this since the fifties.’ 
    Jerry watched through the steam-slick glass as her mother paused at the door of the café to snap on her gloves before walking briskly into the haze. She had always been this way, for ever suggesting the path of least resistance. Didn’t Geraldine realize how lucky she was, to have been born into a family with social standing and respect in the community? Did she understand how generous her parents had always been to her? And how ungrateful she’d been in return? 
    The coldness that had arisen between them was the result of her nightmarish fourteenth year—an unendurable sequence of fights and hospitals. After this there had been a reconciliation of sorts, but with it came a realization on both sides that the older Jerry grew, the less like her parents she became. 
    She was increasingly uncomfortable with her mother’s ostentatious displays of wealth, and felt unworthy of her cushioned life. It was as if the three of them shared a secret: that she was a common foundling, a usurper to the throne of commerce and society, whose presence would be tolerated for the benefit of both sides. 
    For a while Jerry had failed to see how the arrangement could possibly benefit Gwen, who had shown her scant