Doctor Who_ Warchild - Andrew Cartmel [37]
Fat chance. He couldn’t even communicate it to his own teenage son who stood before him now.
Ricky came all the way into the kitchen. He was wearing khakis and a T-shirt, standing in that stoop-shouldered fashion that made him look fatter than he was.
Ricky wasn’t fat but he was soft. To Creed he had a maddening larval look. Not just soft but somehow uncommitted, undecided. Unfinished. He was a big kid with a sharp mind kept carefully hidden behind a vague nervous manner. He looked slow and plodding. On first meeting some people even thought he might be somewhat backward —
until they got a glimpse of those eyes.
Now Ricky was looking up at his father in that nervous way of his, shy or sly. Sneaking glances at him.
Creed took a deep breath, trying to sort out the confusion of anger and love his son awoke in him. ‘Look, Ricky,’ he said patiently, ‘your mother and I are having a discussion. Don’t get in my way. And don’t give me any crap about raising a hand against her. You know I never have and I never would, and you only said it because you thought it would make me angry.’
‘You always know everything, don’t you?’
‘I know you. I know how your mind works. You’re my son.’
‘You’re so smug, aren’t you?’ For a moment Creed was gratified to see a glint of anger in his son’s shifty eyes.
He wished Ricky would, just once, lose his temper. If he could just fight back, blow off steam, shout at his dad. It would be a lot healthier than wandering around looking tormented all the time.
Creed grinned, maybe tonight would be the night.
‘I don’t mean to be smug, but yeah, I can read you like a comic book. You know that I’d never hit your mom.’ As he thought of Justine he felt a sudden surge of impatience. He half turned away from his son. ‘Excuse me,’ he said, heading for the staircase. Heading for Justine. But Ricky called after him and something in his tone of voice made Creed stop.
‘You’re right. I only said it to make you angry. I thought you’d flip.’ Ricky smiled a crooked smile. ‘But it didn’t work.
So I guess I’ll have to say something else to make you flip.’
Suddenly Ricky’s piercing eyes were looking into Creed’s.
Those eyes were full of a strange blend of pain and anger. Creed realized he’d underestimated how upset his son was.
He began to come back into the kitchen, but then Ricky said, ‘But I don’t know why I should even bother.’ His blazing eyes flicked nervously away from Creed, back into hiding.
When he spoke again he was so quiet Creed wasn’t sure for a moment what he said.
‘You’re not even my real dad.’
There was a sudden silence in the big house. Even the sound of the girls’ voices, laughing outside with Ricky’s friends, had lagged and stopped.
Creed couldn’t quite believe what he’d heard. ‘What did you say?’
‘You’re not my real dad.’
Creed’s voice was icy now. ‘Who told you that?’
‘Mom did. She said my real dad was a guy called Vincent.’
Upstairs Justine lay on the bed. She had stopped sobbing and was listening carefully. She’d heard the low murmur of Ricky and Creed talking in the kitchen and a shocking thought had occurred to her.
What if her son said something?
What if he said something about Vincent?
Chapter 14
Roz looked at the dark houses all around her. The moonlight rendered them in stark contours of black and white. If she let her imagination really begin to work she could see those shadows moving, writhing with dark shapes.
She moved to switch on the helmet again, get some night vision and make certain. But she stopped herself. Don’t worry about it. Just keep moving.
Fear began to lift under her ribs like a bird spreading its wings.
But it was all right. They were halfway along the alley now, Roz in the lead, Mrs Woodcott and the stewardess straggling behind, and they were past the patch of deepest shadow.
The remaining length of the alley was in bright moonlight and it was a clear run all the way on to the podium. She could see the armoured car waiting for them.
‘Step on it,’ said Redmond in her ear.
‘Nearly there,’ said Roz.
‘OK, I’m opening the hatch now. Don