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“I think we’ll call it intuition. Whatever it is, don’t bottle it up. Everything will seem twice
as bad. You’re angry with me.”
“It’s nothing to do with me, is it?”
“What’s nothing to do with you?”
“What you get up to!”
“What did I get up to?” If Gardener wanted Chris to show his cards, using psychology was the only way to do it. In all honesty, though, now was not the best time.
“You stayed out all night!”
“Which I’m entitled to do. But as it happens, I didn’t. I was here.”
“You could have let Granddad know. He was worried.”
“So, it’s your granddad you’re worried about?”
Chris was still prodding the Weetabix. “You’re never here for me these days, Dad.”
Gardener felt his anger building. “That’s not true, and you know it.”
“It is true. All you think about is your job. We were supposed to go out yesterday, but your job came first.”
“There’s nothing I can do about the hours I work. You know that. I always make sure your granddad is here to cover for me. He fills me in on what’s going on. I try to be here when I can, but at the moment, the job is more demanding than usual. You know what happened to David Vickers. It’s up to me to catch the person responsible, see it doesn’t happen again.”
“Whatever!” Chris shouted. He slammed his spoon down and left the table, storming out of the kitchen.
Gardener stood up, following Chris through the living room, up the stairs and into his bedroom. He wasn’t leaving it. He’d been intending to apologize to his son and, as usual, the debate had escalated out of control very quickly.
“Don’t walk out on me, Chris. We won’t solve anything.”
Gardener was appalled as he stopped suddenly and examined the state of the room.
“When was the last time you cleaned up? Look at it, it’s a tip!”
Chris’s bed was unmade. Drawers and wardrobe doors stood open, their contents spilling out onto the floor. The bin overflowed with crisp packets and chocolate wrappers. Endless piles of CDs were out of their cases.
“Oh, you’ve noticed something!”
“I couldn’t fail but notice, could I?” shouted Gardener. “Before you go anywhere, I want your room spotless.”
Chris made to push past him. Gardener halted him by placing a hand on his shoulder.
“I’ve told you once already, don’t you walk away from me.”
“What difference does it make if my room’s clean or not? I doubt you’ll see it for another year.”
For a split second, Gardener saw Sarah in his son’s face. During their frequent disagreements, Sarah displayed an infuriating, pouting-mouth expression that followed a line of sarcasm. Chris had inherited the trait.
“You don’t care anymore.”
“Stop saying that!” Gardener yelled.
“Okay, if you care, what happened to the new trainers I asked for?”
“Trainers? What trainers?” Gardener was momentarily stunned, unable to remember any conversation regarding trainers.
