This is 3/4 free chapters

The electric peppermill toppled over, rolled across the glossy surface of the mahogany dining room table until it hit the solid-silver fruit platter. Jon, with all the wisdom of his nearly thirteen years spent on this planet, most of them wielding a smartphone, labelled his grandparents as poshies. Though he would never admit it to his offspring, Gary supposed the boy might well be right. His father-in-law Bill, a top-shelf corporate lawyer, earned more than enough money to suit his dated taste. More than enough money to pay for Jon's new school. So much money even, Bill felt entitled to interfere with Gary's chosen parenting style, using his cash as a bargaining chip.

Not that banging his fist onto the table would put Gary in the right, overstretched single parent stroke widower or not.

Gary straightened the fallen utensil. "Apologies, I didn't mean that. However, don't you think wanting Jon to stay with you during the whole school term is taking things a tad too far?"

Sandie had the decency to avoid Gary's gaze and kept kneading the satin napkin in her lap.

Bill never flinched. Instead, he raised one supercilious eyebrow, pencil-thin like his moustache, over his horn-rimmed glasses.

Emma had resembled neither of them.

Not in looks, not in her actions. Not in the slightest.

"It's all for the boy's good," Bill drawled. "And yours, actually. You've got way too much on your plate, with running your own business and no time to spare on a traumatised child."

"That's my problem, don't you think? And traumatised is rather strong a label. Yes, Jon suffered when his mother . . . Well, Emma left us rather. That affected him. But traumatised?"

Such tame words for the anguish the little man had vented once, then bottled up. It had taken Gary and the counsellor he hired and paid out of his own pocket almost a year to get the boy to talk. The mobbing at Jon's old school, aggravated by a posse of particularly insensitive teachers, worsened matters. At least, the hours spent on dragging his son from the abyss of his mother's demise helped Gary cope with the loss of his soulmate.

Cope being the operative word. Sometimes he felt like a well-programmed drone buzzing about. Functioning. Not living.

Still, Bill had wormed his way under Gary's skin. Preposterous to assume he would ever concede to seeing his son only during school holidays.

Jon was all that remained. The only thing worth living for. That and the tours perhaps, as they had been Emma's brainchild.

Bill pushed at his spectacles. They weren't slipping, not in the slightest. Gary's father-in-law would never allow such laxity.

"Perhaps not traumatised, but certainly in bad shape. Look, man, you did the right thing when you called us in. The Amersham Institute for boys has everything Jon needs. A safe environment. Counsellors, tutors, special lessons. Jon is truly gifted, he will go far. He's wasted at a state school."

The way Bill pronounced it, the title sounded like an insult.

A shame really, his in-laws had never met Gary's parents. They would have got on like a house on fire. Same elitist worldview. Same snobby principles. The only difference being the depth of their pockets. The twelfth Lord Nettlehole and his lady had been as strapped for cash as the previous generation. Ever since the inheritance taxes owed due to the deaths of three heirs in rapid succession wiped out the Sands's family's fortune and a fire ruined the ancestral pile, nothing much was left of former glory. Apart from a handful of constipated-looking fellows glaring from the family portraits Gary kept in the attic.

"You might be surprised, but I agree with you."

A hopeful expression stole onto Bill's face.

"As far as the education is concerned. Yes, Jon deserves the best. I'm grateful you're willing to step in for the moment. Once the tours really take, my cash flow will be a lot better. It already does."

The expression shifted back to disdain. "Yes, yes, those unfortunate events on the continent seemed to have given you a boost. Let's see how long that lasts, shall we? What I don't understand—with your degree you could find a decent job in the city in a jiffy. Even if you insist on working in tourism, you could draw a respectable salary. Instead, you waste money and time on that start-up of yours. As for travel agencies, well my lad, I'm afraid in this day and age you have to stand out from the crowd. Everybody books via the intranet. Stands to reason."

Gary experienced the urge to bang on the table again. Just to wipe the self-satisfied sneer from Bill's face. He wouldn't rise to the taunt. Once had been bad enough.

"Well, we shall see. The internet is anonymous. I'm offering a personalised experience. Anyway, the most important thing is to make the tours fly. But that doesn't mean I have no time for Jon. He's lost his mother. He needs me. He needs his home."

Sandie finally ceased strangling her napkin and looked up. Younger than her husband by ten years, she was a trophy wife whose insipid blond beauty had been botoxed into Neverland.

Still, Emma's eyes blinked from the mask that was her face. Elegant long-fingered hands she passed on to her daughter twitched over the napkin.

"I'll take care of him as long as it takes. I promise. When will things be sorted, you think? In half a year or so?"

Bill snorted. 

"Just think of it, Gary," Sandie said. "If he stays with us, Jon doesn't have to travel so much. Forty minutes by bus from High Wycombe every morning is quite a bit. The school is what, five minutes from our house? On foot." The words tumbled from her mouth, faster and faster. "I want the best for my grandson. Like you do. I love him, you know." Her lip quivered, and there was a suspicious blink in those faded eyes.

Gary reached across and gave his mother -in-law's hand a light squeeze. "I'm well aware of that. Thank you. For a couple of weeks, until he's established, fine. We discussed that already. That will give me all the time I need to sort a few things out. But then he needs to come back. I happen to be his father. I love him too."

"Forgive me, but you seem to have a funny way of showing it." Bill's fingers clenched and unclenched like a vice. "You take the boy out of school during the term and expose him to a killer? What sort of care is that, I ask you?"

That was too much. Fury laced with guilt burned at the back of Gary's throat. Yes, in hindsight he realised taking Jon to Germany might not have been the most brilliant of schemes. No idea what possessed him at the time. But Jon had never been in danger. Otherwise, he wouldn't have brought the boy along.

He found a corpse in the sauna.

Well, good job Bill wasn't aware of that little gem.

Gary rose, determined to end the discussion. "Jon was in an impossible situation, needed a break and he got it. Let's not dwell on this any longer. Look at the bright side. He's had almost two weeks with you, he's settling well, is making friends. As I said, I'm grateful for that. But I want him back for the half term holidays and afterwards for the weekends.Perhaps you can drive him across tomorrow. We've got to ease him into his routine. That will take a while, anyway. It's not that we're talking overnight."

Sandie nodded, but her gaze and fingers found the napkin again and stayed there.

Bill's eyes narrowed, but he kept his mouth shut.

"Let me talk to Jon during the holidays," Gary said. "Perhaps, we should find out what he wants."

"I disagree," Bill said in a flat voice. "The boy is only twelve. Not an adult. He doesn't know what is best for him. We do. And I will gladly repeat what I said. He needs stability, discipline and the education that will help him find a respectable job. Nothing more. Nothing less."

Gary's jaws hurt from the effort to keep his tongue in check, but he succeeded.

It was a close shave though.

Do let me know if you have questions or comments on my novel. Constructive suggestions and feedback are always welcome! And thank you for reading. In doing so, you give my writing a purpose.

Image is by Rachael Crowe from Unsplash