get into everything. Is it that stuff on his hands? Jacinta, get some water and wash your fatherâs hands. Who put it there? Was it a doctor? Oh God, I donât know why I bother.â
Gordon watched her run up the stairs and followed, almost carrying Tom. With the Chiefâs head on his shoulder he tried to separate the poison from the saccharine in Mrs Shackletonâs words. As usual he couldnât. As usual he kept his mouth shut.
Jenni immediately opened the windows of the slightly musty room. Gordon started to undress Shackleton, thinking he was to be put to bed.
âLeave him alone.â Jenni realised she was too sharp. Too out of character.
âIâm sorry, Gordon. Iâll do that. You go home. Off you go. Itâs obviously been a long day and a hard one, eh?â
Gordon nodded and smiled, glad to be released. All he wanted was to be rid of the gun and on the outside of a modest drink. The only thing that had really frightened him all night was the Chiefâs wife.
Jason passed Gordon on the stairs and tried to be polite but Gordon was gone before he could make up for his motherâs lack of manners.
Jenni was sitting watching Tom from a distance when Jason went into the bedroom. He was lying spread-eagled on the bed, his shirt half undone by Gordon. He was sweating and mumbling.
âDrunk,â said Jenni.
âNo, I donât think so, Mem. Really. Look at him, heâs ill. Really. Look.â
But Jenni just sat hugging herself, wanting but unwilling to touch him. The smell she could smell on him sheâd come across before. It was the smell of the Gnomeâs breath. The smell of women.
Jason knew better than to go on. He undressed his father and pulled the duvet over him. Gently he laid the burned hands on the top; there were blisters too on the side of his face and ear. The girls fussed in carrying water and an odd selection from Jenniâs first-aid box. Jason saw athleteâs-foot powder and surgical spirit.
âIâve called the doctor. There are hundreds of messages on the machine and the fax is having a nervous breakdown,â said Jacinta, a sensible girl of nineteen, who had an unfortunately large bottom and thick ankles and was studying to be a stage manager at a drama college Jenni could boast about.
She thumped down on the bed next to her father. Capable and unflappable, she started to wash his hands in the bowl of cold water held by Tamsin but she soon saw the only way the ointment would come off was with the flesh beneath. The water was quickly red with blood. She stopped. She felt sick.
Jason saw what was going on.
âLeave it, Jacinta. Wait for the doctor.â
The children felt awkward. Their mother was, not unusually, wrapped in an internal conflict of emotions and unreachable. Tamsin, having put Kit to bed, was free to cry and carry on like a Greek widow. Jacinta and Jason simply sat either side of their father trying to calm him and cool him.
These two had no difficulty loving Tom Shackleton. There was no complication, no qualification. The room was quiet but for the muffled sobs from Tamsin, each person in their own thoughts.
Jenni knew the messages and faxes would be radio, television and newspapers wanting interviews with her husband. She had deliberately not answered the phone since speaking to Eleri. She would sift them through the night. Come the morning heâd be a hero or a joke.
Jenni thought back over her brief conversation with Gordon. Hadnât he said Carter was taken to hospital? In a bad way. Good. He wouldnât be out tomorrow, Tom would do all the interviews, Tom would have the spotlight. Bandaged and frail, heâd be perfect. Jenni knew she would have to phone the Gnome in the morning to make sure the right people were aware of him and to get the Party machine working for her. Them.
The doctor arrived and she was free to check the messages. They were gratifyingly numerous and heavyweight. The
Gordon watched her run up the stairs and followed, almost carrying Tom. With the Chiefâs head on his shoulder he tried to separate the poison from the saccharine in Mrs Shackletonâs words. As usual he couldnât. As usual he kept his mouth shut.
Jenni immediately opened the windows of the slightly musty room. Gordon started to undress Shackleton, thinking he was to be put to bed.
âLeave him alone.â Jenni realised she was too sharp. Too out of character.
âIâm sorry, Gordon. Iâll do that. You go home. Off you go. Itâs obviously been a long day and a hard one, eh?â
Gordon nodded and smiled, glad to be released. All he wanted was to be rid of the gun and on the outside of a modest drink. The only thing that had really frightened him all night was the Chiefâs wife.
Jason passed Gordon on the stairs and tried to be polite but Gordon was gone before he could make up for his motherâs lack of manners.
Jenni was sitting watching Tom from a distance when Jason went into the bedroom. He was lying spread-eagled on the bed, his shirt half undone by Gordon. He was sweating and mumbling.
âDrunk,â said Jenni.
âNo, I donât think so, Mem. Really. Look at him, heâs ill. Really. Look.â
But Jenni just sat hugging herself, wanting but unwilling to touch him. The smell she could smell on him sheâd come across before. It was the smell of the Gnomeâs breath. The smell of women.
Jason knew better than to go on. He undressed his father and pulled the duvet over him. Gently he laid the burned hands on the top; there were blisters too on the side of his face and ear. The girls fussed in carrying water and an odd selection from Jenniâs first-aid box. Jason saw athleteâs-foot powder and surgical spirit.
âIâve called the doctor. There are hundreds of messages on the machine and the fax is having a nervous breakdown,â said Jacinta, a sensible girl of nineteen, who had an unfortunately large bottom and thick ankles and was studying to be a stage manager at a drama college Jenni could boast about.
She thumped down on the bed next to her father. Capable and unflappable, she started to wash his hands in the bowl of cold water held by Tamsin but she soon saw the only way the ointment would come off was with the flesh beneath. The water was quickly red with blood. She stopped. She felt sick.
Jason saw what was going on.
âLeave it, Jacinta. Wait for the doctor.â
The children felt awkward. Their mother was, not unusually, wrapped in an internal conflict of emotions and unreachable. Tamsin, having put Kit to bed, was free to cry and carry on like a Greek widow. Jacinta and Jason simply sat either side of their father trying to calm him and cool him.
These two had no difficulty loving Tom Shackleton. There was no complication, no qualification. The room was quiet but for the muffled sobs from Tamsin, each person in their own thoughts.
Jenni knew the messages and faxes would be radio, television and newspapers wanting interviews with her husband. She had deliberately not answered the phone since speaking to Eleri. She would sift them through the night. Come the morning heâd be a hero or a joke.
Jenni thought back over her brief conversation with Gordon. Hadnât he said Carter was taken to hospital? In a bad way. Good. He wouldnât be out tomorrow, Tom would do all the interviews, Tom would have the spotlight. Bandaged and frail, heâd be perfect. Jenni knew she would have to phone the Gnome in the morning to make sure the right people were aware of him and to get the Party machine working for her. Them.
The doctor arrived and she was free to check the messages. They were gratifyingly numerous and heavyweight. The
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