The Shadow House(16)

Frank pursed his lips and threw a glance at his wife.

April caught the look like a ball. ‘You should let us take him to church,’ she said.

‘That’s not necessary,’ said Michael, sticking his fork into a piece of chicken.

April ignored him. ‘That boy needs help, Renee.’

Renee literally bit her tongue, catching the tip between her teeth and applying pressure.

‘Those screens are poisoning his mind,’ April continued. ‘How can he think, focus, reflect? He needs peace and quiet at his age, not filth and flashing lights.’

Michael grunted. ‘What he needs is to leave that room. Help out around here once in a while.’

‘How is he doing at school?’ April said. ‘Does he have any friends?’

‘He has his own ways of socialising,’ said Renee, unable to help herself.

‘You call what he does on that machine socialising?’ Frank stared at her, the skin around his eyes as blue and papery as an elephant’s.

Renee looked away. Yes. No. Maybe. Kids nowadays met up online instead of in parks; their playgrounds were virtual instead of grassy. And wasn’t that better? At least Gabe was at home, where she could keep an eye on him – and she’d read somewhere that computer geeks were in, that people with tech talent were cool these days. She couldn’t explain that to her parents, though.

In truth, she had no idea what Gabe was doing on his computer, but she did know that getting angry wouldn’t help. And didn’t he deserve the benefit of the doubt? He could be doing something wonderful in there. Perhaps one day he’d emerge from his room and announce that he’d just discovered a cure for cancer or invented time travel. Half the world’s tech geniuses were socially reclusive. Renee would’ve bet her last dollar that most Nobel Prize winners had produced their best work alone in their bedrooms while wearing unwashed tracksuit pants.

Frank put down his cutlery. ‘He should be eating with the family,’ he said, pushing back his chair and heading for the hallway. ‘I’ll go and talk to him.’

‘Don’t bother, mate,’ Michael called after him. ‘There’s no point.’

‘I wouldn’t be so sure about that,’ said April. ‘Frank can be quite persuasive when he wants to be.’

Renee said nothing. ‘Persuasive’ wasn’t the word she’d use. ‘Obdurate’ would be more accurate. According to her father, the world worked in a certain way – Frank’s way – and he would not hear otherwise.

‘Speaking of church, did I tell you they just finished renovating the hall?’ April said, barrelling through the tension. ‘It’s lovely. Very modern. A local dance teacher is renting it on Saturday mornings.’

Renee feigned polite interest.

‘Sue is trying to convince me to go. She says salsa is great for her back, though I cannot understand how. She’s having a dreadful time with her arthritis. I suspect she needs a new doctor. Her GP has no idea.’

Renee tuned out. While April expounded on the inadequate GP, she pushed her food around her plate, focusing instead on her father’s muffled voice in the hallway. From the corner of her eye, she could just about see him standing once again outside Gabe’s room, one hand on the frame, speaking softly through the half-open door.

‘I saw your neighbour the other day,’ said April, tapping Renee lightly on the arm. ‘At the fruit shop. What’s his name again? The one who lives over the back there.’

Renee frowned. ‘Dom Hassop?’

‘Dominic, yes. Delightful young man.’

Michael snorted into his beer. ‘He’s not that young.’

‘He looked thin, I thought,’ April said, ignoring him. ‘Has he lost a lot of weight?’

Renee shrugged. ‘Maybe. I heard he’s going through a nasty divorce, but I don’t know the details. We don’t see much of the Hassops anymore.’

‘Really? I thought you were quite close with them. What’s his mother’s name? Tess?’

‘Bess.’

‘That’s right. Lovely woman. Haven’t seen them for years. Are they well?’

‘No idea,’ Michael said, taking another swig of beer.

‘Michael and Dom’s fathers were friends, back in the day,’ said Renee, eager to hurry the topic along. ‘But we’ve all grown apart now. Everyone’s so busy.’

‘Hmm,’ said April. ‘Shame. As I remember, they were very nice.’

Renee quashed a rising pang of guilt. It was a shame. For years, Dom and his father had helped out around the place; Len Kellerman had treated them like family and Renee had looked forward to seeing them. Both were a welcome change from Len’s straight talk and his relentless work ethic, which over the years had gone from admirable in Renee’s eyes to overbearing and sometimes downright insane. Even after both patriarchs had passed away and the sons had assumed their respective roles, Dom would still come over to lend a hand and visit his ‘buddy’ Gabe; Bess would bring a cake and Renee would serve tea on the veranda. And when it was all hands on deck, Renee would often drop young Gabriel at the Hassop farm during the day so Bess could babysit while Renee pitched in.

But for some reason Renee had never really understood, Michael had never seemed to like Dom much; he was always sniping at him, putting him down. The visits became less frequent. Dom met and married a woman who very quickly fell pregnant with twins – and then Bess got sick, and the social calls stopped altogether. It was sad, really. Renee knew she should’ve made more of an effort. Bess’s health had deteriorated fast, and the twins wouldn’t have been easy. And now Dom was coping with a divorce …