Chapter 2 #2
‘Indeed,’ Joe said, cutting through his thoughts. ‘I believe one task on your to-do list is sorting a flight back here.’
Not for the first time, Jude wondered whether Joe had somehow acquired telepathic powers. Discomfited, he clicked away from the flight comparison tab in his internet browser.
‘Yes,’ he confirmed. ‘I’m coming back for an event in Sheffield. An industry thing. The university’s involved, and Clive – my old supervisor – was keen on me being there.’
‘So our mother told me,’ Joe said, by way of explaining his prescience.
‘You spoke to Mum?’
‘Briefly,’ Joe said. ‘And only because she called to let me know you were flying home to present your PhD work at some industry show.’
‘Ah. Sorry.’ Jude had never asked to be his mother’s favourite, but her clear preference still made him uncomfortable.
‘Not at all,’ Joe said with feeling. ‘I realised a long time ago that you have the worse end of the bargain with her.’ At this, he almost sounded sad. ‘She says you’ll be staying with her for a fortnight?’
‘Yep.’ Jude cringed afresh at the thought.
He didn’t not love his mother – but she wasn’t a warm person, so loving her had never got him very far.
Their relationship was mainly built on her pride in him, and he’d learned at a young age that winning this was the most effective way to stave off swings of temper that could poison the atmosphere for days.
Sometimes she’d fume silently; at others, disappointment might make her cutting, or even cruel.
The worst moments were when she cried, and he felt somehow culpable.
Joe had never shrunk from weathering these storms, but Jude – always top of the class – had learned how to avoid them altogether.
Perhaps it was ironic that he’d made his mum happiest by leaving the country and only seeing her once since his departure.
But it was also freeing. He guessed Joe would have something perceptive to say if he confessed this, so he chose not to.
Instead, he ploughed on, determined to sound pleased about spending time with Lillian.
‘I’m owed some leave, and actually my contract here is up as of next Friday.
Larry’s already asked me to sign on for something new, but we’re not sure what it’ll be yet.
The interim is a good time for a break.’
It was a valiant attempt at positivity, but the persistent churning in his gut confirmed that, whatever spin he tried to put on this trip, his body instinctively knew better.
Going back to Beckford already felt foolish – hubristic – even though it hadn’t been his idea.
Lillian was still in the house that she, Joe and Jude had moved into when he was thirteen: an impressive, Grade II listed property that had plenty of space to accommodate visitors, but which also happened to be on the same street as Hannah’s far smaller childhood home.
Jude saw no sense in admitting to Joe that the prospect of bumping into her caused a visceral reaction so strong he might bring back his breakfast.
As for his job? He felt a strange mix of ambivalence and satisfaction where that was concerned.
LogicLabs was a high-profile firm, and his role as a project owner was prestigious – not to mention stupidly well-paid.
It offered everything someone in his position, with his sort of qualifications, could reasonably dream of, Fields Medal excepted.
His irascible boss, Larry, was an old acquaintance of his parents, and four years ago he’d greedily scooped Jude as an early hire for his then start-up company.
Yet for all his insistence that technology was a force for good, it was increasingly clear to Jude that Larry’s prevailing interest was his own good.
Jude had taken up his job on the basis that he’d be allowed to complete the project he’d conceived as part of his PhD research.
However, taking the final product to market had been so fraught with ethical and legal implications, he guessed his next undertaking would have to be .
. . simpler. Larry now had whole teams designing algorithms whose sole purpose was to ratchet up sales of everything from dietary supplements to smartphone apps.
If Jude wanted to retain his salary and stay in Australia for longer – perhaps even permanently – it seemed he’d have to prioritise the sort of scientific endeavour that made easy money.
‘Why not come back here for a little longer, if you have the chance?’ Joe asked. ‘A couple of months, perhaps.’
‘A couple of months?’ Jude spluttered, audibly alarmed by the idea.
‘It makes sense,’ Joe argued. ‘Oz to the UK is a long journey to make. You won’t want to do it again any time soon. And it sounds to me as though a change of scene might do you good.’
‘What are you basing that on?’ Jude demanded. ‘And I can’t just disappear, Joe, I do have a life here.’ As the words left his lips, he recognised that – under current circumstances – the statement wouldn’t stand much scrutiny, least of all from his brother.
‘You’ve just said that, as of next week, you technically have no job,’ Joe pointed out.
‘As to the life you’re supposedly living in one of the most vibrant cities on the planet, you’re at the office.
On a Sunday morning. Alone. It’s hardly the grand adventure you were planning when you went over there, is it? ’