Snowdrops on Rosemary Lane. Ellen Berry
dad regarded him steadily as they waited at a red light. ‘You think I don’t know you threw all that food away.’
‘What food?’
‘My sandwiches!’
James let out a gasp of exasperation. ‘Oh, Dad. I was just trying to clear out the—’
‘Well, don’t try anything,’ Kenny said firmly. ‘You know I hate waste.’
As they fell into a rather surly silence on the drive back to Burley Bridge, James wondered what to do next. The thought of suggesting to his father than he might be suffering from anything more than perpetual ill humour filled him with horror. But then, James was an adult man of forty-one, and sometimes, being an adult required one to face up to bloody awful situations and figure out a way of dealing with them.
No matter how maddening he was, and how fervently he railed against the idea of any kind of ‘help’, James was determined that he would not let his father down.
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