Read A Window into Time (Novella) for Free Online Page A

out, Jules,” Dad told me. “Two lists. Stuff we can send to auction, and everything else we can bag for the dumpster.” He glared at Uncle Gordon. “There is a dumpster coming, isn’t there?”
    “Absolutely!”
    “When?” Rachel asked.
    “Next week.” With his back to her, he pulled a big mock-worried face at me.
    I grinned back and started typing. I do like my uncle Gordon.
    I didn’t go into Mum’s bedroom or the kitchen—I figured the memory triggers would be strongest there. Rachel took a roll of black bin bags up there and filled them with Mum’s clothes. I typed out all Mum’s jewelry, including her wedding and engagement rings.
    Dad and Uncle Gordon started clearing the lounge, putting it all into the boxes. There were lots of books, and the good crockery in a cabinet, and ornaments, and pictures.
    The estate agent arrived at midday, and Dad started showing him around. I could hear them arguing at lot. Dad was telling him how much the house should be valued at, and he knew because that’s what he did in London. The agent kept telling Dad that Yaxley didn’t have London prices.
    Uncle Gordon leaned over my shoulder as I was typing out the kitchen list. “Uh, maybe scratch that, man,” he said, pointing at the air fryer. “Mine was broken.”
    He didn’t have one. “Mum would have wanted you to have it,” I told him. “Anything else broken?”
    “The toaster.”
    “Right.”
    “Kettle, coffeemaker, food processor, juicer, some plates, cutlery.”
    I started removing items.
    “I don’t have the dumpster company’s phone number on me,” he said sheepishly. “Could you look one up for me?”
    “Sure.” I opened a Web browser app.
    “You’re a lifesaver, Jules. I owe you.”
    “That’s okay. How’s the business? That Andries contract sounds good.”
    “Ah, you know: another month, another million.”
    “In Zimbabwe dollars?”
    He gave me a fond grin. “The most reliable currency in the world. Know why?”
    “You can never devalue it.”
    “Because there’s nothing left to devalue.”
    “Uncle Gordon?”
    “Whatsup?”
    “You did physics. Is time travel really possible?”
    “No. Causality prevents it in real life. But that doesn’t mean you can’t still love all the
Back to the Future
films.”
    “Right.”
    “Why are you asking?”
    “Just wondered, that’s all.”
    “She’s dead, Jules. You can’t change that.”
    “I know.” Actually, I hadn’t thought of that. Not at all.
    He gave me a hug. “How’re you doing?”
    “Usual. School’s bad.” I shrugged.
    “You want me to come down to London and deliver some clobberence?”
    “Some what?”
    “Clobberence. It’s like consequence but delivered by a baseball bat.”
    “No! Really, Uncle Gordon, no.”
    “Hey, I can still handle myself, no worries. Especially against some punk kids. I helped security backstage at a Duran Duran concert once, you know, back in the eighties when they were massive. Man, those teenage girls. When they got their hands on you, they knew which bits to squeeze to make a guy’s eyes water, you dig what I’m saying?”
    I started typing again, staring intently at the tablet. “I get it, Uncle Gordon. Thanks.”
    “I don’t like people picking on you.”
    “School’s always bad. I’m used to it.”
    “But you shouldn’t be used to it, Jules,” he said softly. “That is so wrong.”
    “It’s okay. It’s only for a few more years, then I’ll be at university and the stupids will be nowhere.”
    “You are beautiful, Jules, so beautiful. I see so much of her in you.”
    I was blushing, but it was good embarrassment. I hadn’t known there was such a thing. That’s Uncle Gordon for you: The Best.
    Dad had one last argument with the estate agent, and the poor man left.
    “He looked happy,” Uncle Gordon said.
    “He’s an idiot,” Dad said, all grumpy. “I’m not settling for less than four hundred K.”
    “Maybe you should just rent the place out like all the