IMPURITY Ray Clark (types of ebook readers .txt) 📖

“You’ve been a tonic for both of us. I think it’s you that’s kept us all together. I realize how much I’m taking you for granted. You’re always there for Chris after school. You cook his meals, clean the house. You go out with him more than I do. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. I have, and I’m eternally grateful.”

Gardener paused before changing the subject again. “You said I ought to get out more. What about you? The relationship with us must have its drawbacks. The only interest you seem to have is the gardening club once a week.”

Gardener sensed his father’s hesitation before answering. “Stewart, I’m happy with my life. When your mum died, I didn’t know how I was going to cope. My whole world was just one big void. I was hollow on the inside. I felt as if someone had ripped my guts out and poured ice-cold water through my veins. Despite all that, you were there for me. Looking after you was the best therapy I could have had. And though it may not seem like it to you, it was what kept me going.

“After Sarah died, I knew it was going to be tough. I wanted to use my experience to help you. I appreciate everything I’m getting out of it. I’m spending time with my son, and my grandson. It doesn’t feel like a chore. You certainly don’t have to apologize for anything.”

A lump formed in Gardener’s throat. “I just want you to know I appreciate it, Dad.”

“I know you do. We’re a family, and families help each other.”

A break in the conversation allowed Gardener to return to the subject of his father’s club.

“So, about this club. You can’t be learning much. After a lifetime in the business, you must know everything there is to know about plants.”

“It isn’t the plants so much as the company.”

“Really?” Was that a glint in his father’s eye he’d noticed? “Anyone in particular?”

“No, not at all.”

Gardener was onto something. His father’s reply was too quick and guarded. “Oh, come on. What do you take me for? I’m a detective. You think I haven’t noticed a smarter appearance than usual of late? The new aftershaves? The fact that you’ve been coming home progressively later?”

Malcolm’s wide grin led to a defensive chuckle. “You’re too bloody sharp for your own good.”

Gardener was about to speak when Chris came stomping down the stairs and into the kitchen, dressed in jeans, a sweatshirt, and trainers.

“You okay, Chris?” he asked, tentatively.

His son volunteered a cursory grunt while helping himself to some cereal.

Malcolm rose from the table. “I think I’ll leave you two alone. I’ll be in the potting shed if you want me.”

Chris sat opposite Gardener and proceeded to destroy his Weetabix, banging the spoon into the dish, sighing heavily.

“Something bothering you, Chris?”

“What makes you think that?”

“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.