Being underneath this desk is worse than being underneath my own desk. Why my parents decided that directly beneath the computer area was the best place to store their record player, I do not know. A thick layer of dust covers everything, and a girl can only hold her breath for so long. Pushing the case back into place, I attach a couple of screws - lightly, ‘cause you never know when you’re going to need to open the thing up again - put the power cable back in, and flick the power switch.

Beep. I’m dreading the appearance of the second and third beeps, the characteristic sound of ‘something is seriously wrong’ in a computer for many years, but it doesn’t happen, and in a minute the screen powers up. Huh. I guess I do get it right now and again.

Wiping the dust from my hands, I turn around. “Okay, Poppa, looks like it might be going again. Try it for a day or so, and then I’ll come back and check on it, okay?”

From the other side of the room, my father looks over his book of crosswords at me. “Thank you, sweetie. You’re always here when we need you.”

“Of course, Poppa. It’s not like it’s a big deal. How are you feeling today?”

He nods slowly. “Much better. Sleeping’s getting much easier, you know? Means I have more energy. I might go out for a walk later on today, if I can find my stick, and if I can get your mother to leave me alone for half an hour.” He mock-frowns. “But I don’t like my chances. We’ll see.”

“That’s great; if you can, you really should.” He’s been getting steadily better this week, and every time I see him, he seems a little bit stronger.

“So, this deal ‘ting I hear about on the news, this bond issue that your firm is doing. What do you think about it? People are saying that it’s going to be a huge moneymaker, you know?”

I plump down in the old armchair next to him. “Yeah, I don’t know. I mean, it is. But I still don’t know.”

He looks at me carefully. “You think it’s a good investment? I mean, we have some money set aside, and I’ve been thinking about what to do with it. I’ve seen all the advertisements talking about how to sign up to buy this ‘ting. If we could make some money off this, then…”

“Poppa, I don’t know. Why would you want to do something risky like that?”

“Well, if we could put away a bit more, then maybe we wouldn’t need you to do stuff like coming over and fixing the computer, you know?” He looks at me over the top of his glasses. “I don’t want you to have to look after us when we’re old; that isn’t fair, and with the way the world is going, it’s not going to be so easy, even for young people like you.”

I lean over and kiss his bald head. “Poppa, I like coming over and fixing the computer.” He snorts, and I know better than to lie to him. “Okay, I don’t like fixing the computer, but that’s not the point. I like coming to see you, and it’s not a big deal. Besides, I wouldn’t trust some technician to do it right.”

My father smiles, a broad grin that lights up his face. “No, that’s true, you wouldn’t, would you, Ronnie? Always wanting to do things your own way, ever since you were a little girl.” Closing his crossword book, he looks at the newspaper again. He’s about the only person I know who still subscribes to a print newspaper, but I’m glad he still does. I remember when I was little, coming to sit on his lap, and reading the newspaper with him; when I sit here watching him doing it, it reminds me of that. “But this deal, I mean, look at this.” He gestures at the headline.

WALTERS CAPITAL POISED TO DO IT AGAIN: INVESTORS HUNGRY FOR MACAULAY BOND

“It says here that people are wanting to sign up to be involved, and handing their money over even though you guys aren’t saying what’s going on. It’s kinda crazy, but there must be something to it, right?”

I take his hand. “Honestly, I don’t know. I mean, it will make a bunch of money for a bunch of people if it goes ahead, sure.”

“Well, Ronnie, maybe your mother and I should be some of those people. I don’t want us to be a burden to you when we’re older, and these days, that means you have to have the money, right?” I nod slowly. “And, as much as I hate to admit it, I’m not going to be around forever.”

Oh no. “Don’t say that, Poppa. Not now, there’s no need. You’re fine.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not fine, honey. I’m not dead. For sure. But fine is not what I am. And,” his voice firms, “I’m not leaving your mother on her own with this house to worry about, and you to worry about, and—”

“You know as well as I do that Momma’s going to worry about things whether you are here or not, and no force on this Earth is going to change that. Look, just don’t make any sudden decisions, okay? Just talk to me about it before you decide to commit money to something serious, whatever it is.”

There’s a clang, and my mother backs into the room, holding a tray. “Right. Coffee, both of you. What happened to the computer-thing?”

Computer-thing. They’ve had a computer for twenty years, and she still calls it the computer-thing. I was fixing it when I was ten, and it’s still the computer-thing. “It’s going okay, Momma, I think. Just be careful when you’re clicking on things, and don’t run any programs that you don’t recognize, okay? Just the usual things.”

She looks wide-eyed at me, and tosses a mock salute while she’s pouring the coffee. “Okay, Madam. No clicking. Got it. Drink your coffee.” I make a face, and decide not to say anything. “Now, what about your work? How are the people? How is your boss, this—what is his name—Macaulay man? How is he treating you?”

I open my mouth to say something, and stop. How is he treating me? “Well, it’s okay. The team is really nice, and I’m learning a lot.”

She won’t be deterred. “What about the boss-man? Does he respect what you’re saying? I saw him on the Internet television program the other day.” She purses her lips. “He does look like a handsome guy, and you know, those handsome guys, they think they can get away with anything when it comes to women.”

Next to her, my father snorts. “We certainly do—” then grunts as she pokes him sharply in the ribs. “What was that for?”

“That was for not being serious. This is serious.” I sip my coffee slowly and try not to smile. “You know, Ronnie, I just want those people to take you seriously, that’s all. Don’t let them tell you what to do, okay?”

“Momma, I understand. They take me seriously, they do. But remember last week, you were giving me a lecture—sorry, sorry—telling me about how I needed to be a grownup and listen to what they were all saying? How can I do both this things at the same time?”

There has never been a situation where telling my mother that she has given contradictory advice has changed a single thing, and this isn’t about to be one. “Don’t change the subject. Just make sure they value what you’re doing.”

I admit defeat. And, it’s not like it’s bad advice anyway. “Okay, okay, I will.” Finishing my coffee, I stand up. “I need to go; I’m supposed to be meeting the rest of the team for drinks tonight.” I kiss them both and go to find my bag. “I’ll call tomorrow and find out what’s happened with the computer, okay?”

“Okay, honey, have a good time. Make sure you catch a cab home, okay? Don’t try and walk. You know I read something about how dangerous the streets are and…”

Nodding and waving and agreeing, I make my escape, and head for the bar. Is Tom going to be there?