CHAPTER 11
Saturday is my day off work. After walking the dogs I spend the morning grocery shopping, followed by hoovering and dusting the house from top to bottom. I’ve managed to get Dad out of his shed and into the garden where he’s raked all the dead leaves off the lawn and pruned the dying summer plants. Robbie has been in his room, thrashing his guitar. I knock on his bedroom door and tell him lunch is ready.
“Have you done your homework?” I ask, as he surfaces in his pyjama bottoms and a stained heavy metal t-shirt.
“Not yet,” he replies, following me down the stairs. “I’ve written a new song.”
“Have you?” I smile at his face, suffused with excitement, “you should play it for your music teacher then.”
“Will do.” He delves in the cupboard for crisps to go with his baguet
