This time he took the town centre route. ‘You’re a dark horse,’ he told Bobby. ‘You never told me you were reading.’ ‘I don’t tell you everything.’ ‘Don’t I know it! How’s your little problem, by the way?’ ‘What?’ ‘You know. Down there. Little friends?’ ‘Shut up!’ Bobby slapped him playfully with the back of a hand. ‘No, but really.’ ‘It’s fine. Stuff worked.’ ‘Good.’ ‘You’re not to talk about it!’ ‘I won’t. Promise. Forgotten already.’ They crossed the railway bridge and swung right, up Clifton Road. Ben felt Bobby watching him as he drove. ‘You’re happy,’ Bobby said after a while. ‘I am.’ Ben found them a space at the edge of the Arbour and they walked home from there. The children and terrier had all gone home. Some students were smoking meditatively on the swings. ‘Chicken or sausages for supper? There’s leftover chicken casserole or –’ ‘I told you this morning,’ Bobby insisted.
