SHADOW OF A RECLUSE
By Tessa Harvey
Ada sighed, rubbing her face with her hand. Tarrant noticed her fingers were more bent, her gait more stiff. He remembered his manners. "How about you sit down," he said gently. "I remember how you like your tea - black with one sugar? Yes? I will do coffee for me - strong and white, no sugar."
The old lady chirped. She sniffed. "I will just take Robin's nappy to the bin. we can do a clean-up soon, okay?"
She opened the back door and a few large flies streamed in, buzzing round the buttercup kitchen, gleefully finding scraps of bread crusts, cereal, scattered sugar...
Tarrant sagged back, overwhelmed, rubbing his stubbly chin. He was home, but it was abandoned. He looked around. It reminded him of a story about an empty ship, the Marie Celeste - he did not know where his family had gone. Ada made him his drink, and taking hers, ushered him into the lounge. "Sit down," she motioned to the old maroon couch. "I can help you, young man, I think."

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