the meat juices while the beef rested before carving.
As for the next generation (‘f3’, Doubler liked to joke to himself), he barely took a passing interest in his grandchildren. He was fascinated to see which, if any, of his own genetic characteristics had been passed on, but these could be observed with side glances as he went about his kitchen business. The trouble with humans, he had learnt, was that their life cycles were just too long to intervene in the genetics meaningfully. By the time the weak or undesirable traits fully emerged, the sample had probably already reproduced itself.
He suspected that Marie, had she not gone, would have been a very good, active grandmother, interested in their grandchildren’s school progress, their extra-curricular choices, their loss of teeth, their new haircuts or the little triumphs that everyone felt necessary to discuss but that Doubler found dull. Marie would have excelled at grandparenting, so Doubler didn’t dismiss his obligation altogether but nodded and listened and even made a small comment every now and then, feigning interest as best he could. What he was watching for in his grandchildren was something that might arrest his attention. A flash of genetic improvement that meant they weren’t going to just be dull incarnations of their parents.
Julian’s children, born to a generous portion of the same DNA as their cousins, had already been ruined by an expensive education. Though still small, they were haughty, just like their father, and their lack of stable family life meant they had quickly learnt to exploit their father’s guilt to their own advantage. That is what their private education had taught them: to see a weakness in an adult and to monetize it. This manifested in a steady access to costly things: overseas cricket and skiing trips, expensive electronic gadgetry and a sense of entitlement that would guarantee them good careers later in life.
Meanwhile, Camilla’s children were a little younger and it was hard to see who they might become in the years ahead. Doubler had some hope for them but expected their qualities to be presented to him like a gun dog’s prize. He didn’t yet like them enough to try to coax some good out of them or to shape the people they might become.
They arrived today in the usual flurry of coats and welly boots flung across the kitchen and Doubler, who prided himself on preserving some semblance of order within his home during the weekends, tidied up after them while putting the finishing touches to the lunch.
As they sat down to eat, Camilla smiled benevolently at all of them. ‘Isn’t this special!’ she said, just as she always did. ‘Being together as a family is what it’s all about, don’t you think?’
Her husband, a translucent man with thin lips that rested his face into a grimace, muttered some agreement, while Julian admonished his spoilt children, who were leaning over to help themselves to potatoes with their fingers. Scolded, they sat back in their chairs, growling their dissatisfaction and sharing that special camaraderie that unites siblings when they hate their parents.
Doubler carved, his heavy steel knife slipping through the beef and making light work of the task. Camilla served vegetables while Julian surveyed the room, assessing and valuing as he went.
‘So, Dad, heard anything from Peele recently?’
Doubler stopped, his knife suspended in the air. After a pause of several seconds, he resumed the carving, watching with renewed pleasure as blood seeped from the joint beneath him.
In order to create a larger stage on which to star, Julian was rocking his chair back on its rear legs, a habit Doubler found alarming. He watched his son intently as Julian asked, feigning a polite interest, ‘I heard he was considering buying this place off you?’
‘Wherever did you hear that?’ said Doubler, carving the beef with a deft movement.
‘Oh, around and about. I can’t recall. The golf course, I suspect. We’re both members. Idle talk is golfers’ talk,’ said Julian with a smirk.
Doubler addressed the beef, not his son. ‘I have not entered into any communication with Peele.’
‘Oh? But I hear on the grapevine he’s buying up everything left, right and centre. He’s got most of the county apparently.’
Doubler shrugged. ‘I have very little interest in Peele.’
‘Well, that’s not a bad tactic, I suppose. The longer you hold out, the more valuable this place will be to him. But don’t leave it too long. There comes a point where it’s just not practical you owning a farm in the middle of his land. At the moment, this place is valuable to him. But there will come a tipping point beyond which it is no longer valuable to anyone else.’
‘My farm is not in the middle of his land. His farmland surrounds mine. And what he owns near me has little impact on me, providing he leaves me well alone.’
‘But will he leave you alone? I doubt it. Not once he’s got his eyes on the prize. This could be the jewel in his crown.’ Julian’s own eyes were sparkling in anticipation.
‘Potatoes?’ Doubler asked the children scattered round the table. He gave the gravy a good stir before sitting down to contemplate the perfectly rare beef in front of him.
‘As I say. I’ve got no interest in Peele.’
Julian peered at his father over the top of his specs. ‘Well, Dad, if you ever need a hand entering into negotiation, I’d be more than happy to help. It can’t be easy looking after this place on your own, and it’s not the same, is it, since Mum . . .’ he hesitated to finish the sentence, ‘went.’
Camilla allowed a small sound of exasperation to escape before addressing her brother with a sad whine. ‘Julian, I don’t know why you always have to raise the contentious issues just when we’re having such precious time together. Let’s talk about positive things, shall we?’
Julian answered in a quiet voice, in much the same way that a seasoned alfresco diner knows to keep still when a wasp is bothering them, ‘I don’t think a speculative offer from an extremely wealthy neighbouring farmer is exactly negative, do you? This place is bleak – look at it. There’s ice on the inside of the windows, for God’s sake.’
While it was true there were still traces of ice on the windows from last night’s heavy frost, the house was snug. The fire was roaring and throwing out a huge amount of heat, adding the distinctive quality of light that can only be achieved from the flicker of flame.
‘It’s cosy,’ said Camilla, looking for her father’s approval. ‘And anyway, it was our home – it was where we grew up. I don’t see how you can be so unsentimental about it, Julian. I don’t know about you, but I want my children to know this, to feel that they are part of it. We’ve got so many memories here.’
Julian looked unimpressed by this argument as he mentally flicked through a catalogue of recollections. Adulthood can have a strange effect on a childhood retrospective. He and Camilla had shared exactly the same experiences and yet they had very different associations. To Julian, it was black and white. His mother had been here and then she wasn’t. Any glimpses of past joys had been obliterated with her.
‘The land is valuable, Camilla. You’re being naive. And who knows what will happen to it in the future? The train line could completely ruin the value of these properties. I think if there is a viable offer on the table, Dad would be very sensible to have a serious look at it.’
Doubler drew himself taller and said, in a clear and decisive tone, ‘I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t talk about me as if I weren’t here. I am not
