Robin was suspended from school, so he stayed out longer than usual, doing an extra run through deserted streets. The only other soul he saw was one of the student squatters, jogging in cheetah-print leggings.
‘Hey, arrow boy!’
The sun was low but hot and Robin trailed sweaty footprints down the hall as he arrived home. He stumbled into the kitchen with mud-spattered legs, lobbing his empty water bottle in the sink and grabbing another from the fridge.
‘’Sup?’ he said, slightly breathless as he washed his hands.
Ardagh had grapefruit and espresso and a paint-spattered Sony radio tuned to a classical station. Little John overwhelmed a wooden chair at the end of the dining table, eating half a box of cereal from a casserole dish and dressed in his purple Locksley High polo shirt.
‘How come Robin’s allowed to go out and play if he’s grounded?’ Little John asked.
Robin knew his brother was stirring, but still took the bait. ‘It’s not playing. It’s training.’
‘Training is like I do,’ John carped. ‘At school, with a coach, for an actual sport …’
‘It doesn’t have to be,’ Robin said, as he grabbed a cereal box and was relieved that Little John had left some. ‘I’m fitter than you, faster than you and I’m capable of thinking for myself.’
Rather than intervene, Ardagh turned up his radio and announced, ‘There’s too much negative energy between you boys! Take some breaths and listen to Mozart.’
‘Make Robin shower,’ Little John demanded, wafting his hand.
Robin tutted. ‘It’s a miracle I can get in there, with your epic dumps and the time you spend gelling your stupid hair.’
Ardagh’s focus on Mozart was foiled by the station cutting to a commercial.
Don’t take fright, when money’s tight …
‘Cos Captain Cash will set you right,’ the two boys sang in unison, before laughing.
Robin smiled at his brother, feeling almost fond as he remembered the risk Little John took tackling Clare Gisborne. The brothers loved each other, but did a great job hiding it when there were points to score off their dad.
‘Please don’t sing that jingle!’ Ardagh said gently.
‘Robin, your school suspension is supposed to be a punishment,’ Ardagh flicked the radio off. ‘I don’t want you surfing or reading in your room all day. The big shed behind the house needs clearing out, so I can treat the woodworm.’
‘Eh?’ Robin gawped, as Little John clapped and laughed. ‘What about my essay?’
‘Nobody’s been in that shed in years.’ Little John beamed. ‘I bet there’s dead rats and squirrels! All kinds of nasty stuff …’
‘You can do the essay over the weekend,’ Ardagh said. ‘It’s a dry forecast today. Pull everything out onto the driveway and hose it or scrub it clean. Then wash down the floors and walls.’
‘What’s the point cleaning a shed nobody uses?’ Robin asked sourly. ‘Are you gonna help me, at least?’
Ardagh shook his head. ‘I’ve got two meetings in Nottingham. If I’m not working at the library, I need extra freelance work.’
‘No point showering if I’m gonna be crawling around in dirt,’ Robin said.
‘A commendable decision, Father,’ Little John said joyously. ‘That boy is out of control. He needs discipline!’
Robin shot up from his Shredded Wheat and yelled. ‘Stop winding me up, you massive turd!’
‘Stop winding me up,’ Little John squeaked, mocking Robin’s unbroken voice.
Ardagh eyed his oldest son. ‘If you don’t cut out the verbal jabs, you can spend the weekend painting the wood with creosote and helping me repair the roof.’
The threat of hard labour shut Little John up.
‘Everything’s on top of the washer waiting for you,’ Ardagh told Robin. ‘Key, mop and bucket, hose, dust mask and gloves.’
‘I hear it’s gonna be super-hot today,’ Little John said, then tried to look innocent as Robin and his dad scowled at him. ‘What, can’t I talk about the weather now?’