MARGERY always hated the grandfather clock. Much like Jack’s father when he used to visit, it was too large, loud and overbearing for their modest cottage. It was the only thing Jack’s father ever gave him, however, so Margery’s frequent requests that he sell it were met with blunt refusals. The clock’s grave ticking greeted Jack the afternoon he returned home from Margery’s funeral. After momentarily standing before it, he went out to the garden shed. Returning with an axe, he took to the clock with a vigour that belied his years.