After I'd followed him out of his study, Mr. Hayes avoided looking at me and barely spoke as he gave me a perfunctory tour.
“This is the kitchen," was all he said as we passed through it, heading up a staircase before I could take it all in properly. “This is your room," he mumbled, throwing a careless hand to the left as he passed an open door. He kept going down the hallway for a few steps before stopping and indicated a closed door on the right with an impatient gesture. “And this is Chris's. He's still sleeping. You can meet him later."
Mr. Hayes then simply turned and went past me again to go back downstairs without so much as a glance at me. When we made it to the open-plan kitchen—with a dining table to the side of the black and gold granite island, and a living room farther down
