'No. I will tell you, but can I go and clean up first?'
'All right. See you in twenty minutes, half an hour?'
He left the room. Across the table from me Tom was losing the struggle against his temper; under his shirt the shoulder and arm muscles were flexing as though his big hands were about to lash out, his physical strength becoming all too evident. I said, 'We ought to let Andrew know he's all right.'
This diversion worked momentarily. 'He's probably still at the hospital. You know how they keep you waiting at those clinics.'
'I could leave another message at the Garden Centre in case he calls there first.'
He realised that the mention of Andrew was an attempt to divert him. He glared at me as, trying to appear innocent and unconcerned, I put another fork-full of food into my mouth. 'All right,' he said, 'I'll leave the boy to you, you can have him, if that's what you want. I'm going.'
'Don't, please don't.'
'I might as well go back to work. Fuck you. I said you can have him, that's what you want, isn't it?' He stood up and put on his coat. 'Fucking bastards,' he shouted to nobody in particular as he stomped out down the hall. This was the angriest I had ever seen him, yet despite the intensity of his feelings, he had been able to back off.
My immediate task was to find out from Darren where he had been for the past two nights, and fifteen minutes later I took a pot of coffee and his favourite snack, bacon sandwiches, up to his room. The shower was running as I passed the little bathroom under the roof and I went on up to sit and wait for him to emerge. He appeared after a few minutes, covering himself with a towel, and was drawn to the tray of food by the mouth watering smell. 'Bacon sandwiches, thanks Mark, I'm starving.'
Uninhibited by my presence he threw the towel onto the bed and put on a pair of clean white underpants. I had seen him nearly naked before at the swimming baths; his calves were about as thick as Tom's forearms, the flesh so scanty that the knobs and indentations of his bones were visible. As well as the bruise on his face he had another, bigger and more lurid, on his right upper arm. On his neck and stomach were half a dozen or more red scuffs and abrasions, which could have been caused by a fall or a fight. As a way of starting conversation I said: 'I fed your terrapins. I hope they're all right.'