The Parents

Glass smashes, frame splinters as the bracket snaps. Priceless Étienne lost, oil and canvas fed to hungry flames.

‘Leave it,’ says Henrietta. ‘You can’t save it.’

‘Christ, it’s not like we can claim it on insurance,’ says Lucas, stamping on the trailing canvas and wafting embers back towards the fireplace, ash marks smudged into springbok rug.

‘We both know it’s not about the money. You can’t replace something like that. Next time, I’ll do the mounting.’

‘You didn’t even like it in the first place. I bet you sabotaged the bracket.’

Lucas drapes the remnants over his forearm, a scorched face and a torso hanging upside down as...

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