Part 19 (1/2)

A sharp breeze blew off the sea, whipping Daniel's curly locks back and out of his face. That's better, thought Robin in his mum's voice. Can see your eyes now. Then his dad: That ought to blow the cobwebs away, right, son?

I'm getting old, Robin thought.

”Do you want to go on the pier?” he asked Daniel, who shrugged.

”Don't mind.”

Robin pushed his hands deeper into the pockets of his jacket. Anorak, he thought. There's no other word for it. I'm the sort of dad who wears an anorak. He'd never quite realised before, how much he loved being that person.

”Sorry,” he said. ”Probably a bit boring for you really, coming over here every weekend. Nothing much to do.”

Daniel looked at him scornfully. ”Don't be an idiot, Dad. It's fine.”

He did seem fine, Robin thought, underneath all that teenage scowling. He allowed himself to admit, with a touch of pride, that Daniel looked happier when he was here. He was a good kid, but he had an overdeveloped sense of responsibility, and it frightened Robin sometimes. The world on his shoulders, that was Daniel. When he was with them it was as if he could relax in a way he couldn't around Angela. He seemed to frown a little less, smile a little more.

We should should be proud, he thought, defiantly. We've done everything right, Phil and I. What the h.e.l.l have we ever done wrong? be proud, he thought, defiantly. We've done everything right, Phil and I. What the h.e.l.l have we ever done wrong?

Daniel darted forward suddenly, picked up a stone and skimmed it into the waves. ”Phil said he's going to show me how to skin a rabbit next weekend,” he said.

”And where does Phil plan to get a rabbit from, exactly?”

”I dunno.”

”Hmm. That's what worries me.”

They did wander up to the pier in the end. Daniel had a half-hearted go on the amus.e.m.e.nts, before p.r.o.nouncing them ”a bit rubbish, really.” He's too cool for that now, Robin thought fondly, and bought him a c.o.ke.

”Don't tell Phil,” he said. ”He'll have my guts for garters.”

”You don't have to do everything he says, you know.”

”I don't!” said Robin, stung. ”I was joking. You get on with Phil, don't you?”

”Course,” said Daniel. ”He's cool. But, you know. You're my dad and all that.” He shrugged and leant further forward over the railing, frowning down at the grey sea.

Robin smiled around the lump in his throat. Behind them, a commotion started up as two seagulls had a sc.r.a.p over an abandoned cardboard chip-tray.

Later, on the drive back to Angela's, Daniel started telling him about the club.

”We're organising this gig night,” he said. ”You know, for fundraising. It's gonna be really cool, we've got the Labrats down already. And the January Architects, even though they're c.r.a.p, but the girls like them 'cos they all fancy that Oliver bloke. Jimmy reckons he can book King Prawn, but I dunno. They're getting pretty big now.”

”Right, good...you realise I have very little idea what you're talking about.”

Daniel rolled his eyes. ”They're bands bands, Dad.”

”Yeah, I got that part.”

”It's gonna be cool,” Daniel said again. ”They all want to support the cause.”

Robin winced at the phrase.

”What?”

”No, nothing.”

”I dunno why you're so against me actually having something to believe in,” said Daniel defensively.

”I'm not! It's just...you're still young, aren't you? You should be out enjoying yourself. Girlfriends, whatever...”

”I know you agree with me, though. You do, don't you? What we stand for, being against the machine and the test, all that. You believe in it, too.”

”It's not a question of that,” said Robin tiredly. ”In principle, yes, of course. I'm glad you're thinking about this stuff. It's just-”

”It's wrong! wrong!” Daniel said pa.s.sionately. ”No one should ever know how they're going to die. You You said that! Look at Mum, what it's done to her. It's just-it's f.u.c.ked up and it's wrong!” said that! Look at Mum, what it's done to her. It's just-it's f.u.c.ked up and it's wrong!”

Robin could feel Daniel's eyes on him even while he watched the road. He knew, without having to turn round, what Daniel looked like right now. A certain light in the eyes. That note in his voice. It was this part of Daniel that he could imagine fearing. He tried not to imagine it, but he could, and he knew this because it was something that was part of him, too. It was a deeply buried something, very deep, but it was there.

”Things have got to change, Dad,” continued Daniel. ”What if I went out and got that test? I'm nearly old enough. You wouldn't want that, would you? You wouldn't want me to know.”

”No!” said Robin, and shuddered. ”No, G.o.d forbid.”

”We're just trying to make a difference,” said Daniel. He sighed, and his voice changed, went small and m.u.f.fled. ”Thought you'd think that was good.”

”I do. Honestly.” Robin gripped the steering wheel. His head throbbed with a dull ache, as it had done all day, and all yesterday, too. He wondered vaguely when the headache had started, and realised he couldn't remember.

”I just...don't want you to get hurt. Don't want doing something you might regret. That's all.”

It was dusk by the time they reached Angela's house. He saw a curtain twitch in the living room as they drew up outside. Daniel, grabbing his bag and opening the pa.s.senger door almost as soon as Robin stopped the car, seemed as eager to get back to Angela as he had been earlier to get away. Robin never took it personally. It was just the way Daniel approached everything-the same intense concentration and restlessness. It'll be the death of him, said Robin's mum's voice in his head. He wished she would just be quiet.

”See you, Dad.”

”Bye. Love you.”

An eye-roll and a smile, and then he was gone. Robin sat in his car and watched the night slowly deepen to black around the haloes of street-lamps. In Daniel's bedroom, a light went on.

On the way home, Robin drove past the street he'd accidentally turned down earlier in the day. The chip shop glowed brightly at him from the corner, but he couldn't see any of the kids. He wondered whether they'd moved on to new haunts for the night, or whether they were still there somewhere, lurking in the shadows. Instinctively, he checked to make sure his doors were locked.

Lots of people are called Daniel.

He'd been having bad dreams lately about dark alleyways, muggings, blood. Men with knives and baseball bats. Thugs and queer-bashers. There was this boy who kept turning up, night after night. Hooded, his face in shadow. And dog-tags on a chain around his neck. Every time, Robin twisted in the boy's grip, struggling not to get away, but to see the name he knew was marked on those tags. Because he had to know. Before...before what?

There were other dreams, too, and those dreams were worse.

He stood at the back door for a full ten minutes when he got home, his hand frozen on the latch. Through the kitchen window he could see Phil sitting at the table, tapping away at his laptop with a cup of coffee next to him, the steam rising from it in faint wisps. As Robin watched, he looked up and their eyes met. Phil hurried over and pulled open the door, concern on his face.

”Love? What's the matter? What's happened?”

He was reaching out for Robin, trying to pull him inside, out of the dark. The brightness and warmth of their kitchen spilled in a little pool from the open doorway, as though the house, too, were trying to embrace him. Robin tried to answer, but felt himself paralysed. Even the smallest of decisions-to move, or not to move-seemed far beyond him. When he looked down at his hands, though, he saw that they were moving, just a little. Shaking, as though with cold. They looked like someone else's hands, he thought, not his. Someone who was very old, and very tired.