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203 pages, Kindle Edition
Expected publication August 13, 2026
Time flows unevenly in the workshop. It's measured out in jobs started and finished, and the sun has no say in it nor has the moon, because the light of the workshop is the workshop's own light, the workshop is its own discrete universe, and the clock has no business dictating to anyone when to stop or start or pause to smoke or argue or drink a cup of tea in silence. Something from earlier the same day or last week or the week before might be described as having happened a little while ago. A good while ago could mean a month ago or it could be right back in history, it could be the early eighties when Grandad stopped farming and the land was set and the garage was opened officially; it could be the moment of creation when everything exploded outwards from a point of infinite smallness. Time stops being linear and it susurrates and syncopates. There's euphony for you, Theo says. Theo tells Jack what euphony is. Good sounds. Words that have a nice hiss to them, a kind of a beat. Haulie shouts suddenly from under a Flesta with a torn CV boot that's dripping grease into his wiry hair Euphony! Hey, Jack, euphony! Ha? Euphony all right, and I'm funny! He not funny, though! And he points his oil-slicked spanner at Theo, who shakes his head and clicks his tongue. He a grumpy oul bastard!
There's Mam's voice, coming from somewhere nearer the water. As clear as a whistle, as sweet as honey. It sounds so real. He walks towards it, though he knows it can't be real. He hears Dad's voice too, they're back together again, they're walking in the forest, he was behind them, he was lost, he stopped to look at a strange flower or a spide's web, and now they’re caling our to him, they're telling him to come on, to catch up. He might as well go with it. What has he to lose? I's only the water and the whistle of the wind, he knows, the sounds merging in the gathering dusk. But what a gift to be given, all the same, on this strange day of sudden angels and unexpected beauty and mad revelation, this long saga of a day, this never-ending story of a day, the gift of his mother's voice, and his father's gentle voice, shaken from his history by the kindness of the trees