ld not remain much longer at the reprocessing plant。
Jane knocked loudly on his bedroom door at 7。30 a。m。 She was answered by an unintelligible grunt； and returned downstairs。 Sarah left at 8。15。 Bob at 8。30。 At 8。45 she went back upstairs； and knocked again on her son's door； this time somewhat timidly。 On more than one occasion previously she had been the subject of verbal abuse。
'Are you ill； Richard？' There was a tremor in her voice。
'No； I'm fucking well not。'
The reply brought tears to her eyes； and she hurried back downstairs。 In dealing with her son it was best to ride out the storm until they entered calmer waters。
At ten o'clock Richard came downstairs。 He was wearing his polo…necked sweater and a pair of Wrangler jeans。 Without even a glance in her direction； he went straight outside to the Norton standing alongside the garage。 She heard the clink of spanners； more cursing。 It always amazed her that anyone could swear so profusely whilst pursuing a hobby。
Twice during the morning she glanced outside。 He appeared to have stripped down the whole machine pletely； though； as far as she was aware； there was nothing mechanically wrong with it。 For him； this operation had the fascination of a jigsaw puzzle。 He took it apart； put it together； then started all over again。
She sighed in resignation as she washed and vacuumed。
Midday。 She usually prepared herself a snack of some sort； and wondered if Richard wanted anything to eat…but fearing further abuse she declined to ask him。
The afternoon wore on； and she began to prepare the evening meal。 At 5。30 p。m。 Richard came back inside； and marched straight upstairs in his oily boots。 Soon she heard the bath running。 Well； that was something anyway。 Cleanliness was not one of his regular concerns。
Shortly after six o'clock； Sarah and Bob arrived home within a few minutes of each other。 The meal was served； but still no sign of Richard。 Jane decided to remark upon it。
'Richard hasn't been to work today。'
'Oh！' Bob Coyle looked up； surprise and concern on his face。 'I wondered how long he would stick it up there。'
'It's not his fault。' Sarah leaped to her brother's defence； with the kind of natural support that children give each other against parental disapproval。 'They've laid some of them off。'
'Laid them off！' Coyle dropped his knife on to his plate。 'That's nonsense。 There's a half…page advert in my newspaper seeking to recruit more labour for this new 〃harvest process〃； as they call it。 They've sunk thousand…foot shafts into the granite below the valley； and now they're working like hell to make this diabolical stuff into blocks of solid waste to store down there for evermore。 They can't get enough men to work fast enough。 The boy's lying。'
'No； he isn't；' Sarah retorted hotly。 'They've laid thirty men off on Richard's section。 I should know。 I had to deal with all the paperwork。'
Coyle did not reply。 He continued chewing thoughtfully for some moments before he spoke again。
'Why have they laid them off？'
'I don't know。 I'm only a clerk in the office。'
'Haven't you asked？ I mean； aren't you interested in your job？'
'No。 It's just boring clerical work； and if you want to know why the men have been laid off； you'd better ask Richard himself。'
That； of course； was the logical solution； but a task he did not relish。 He finished the meal in silence。 Sarah went upstairs to change。
Bob and Jane looked at each other across the table。
There was a half…taunting smile at the corners of her lips。
He rose to his feet； and mounted the stairs thoughtfully； slowly。 Hell； of all the people to have to ask。
Coyle realised his first mistake the moment he entered his son's room。 He should have knocked。 This sanctum； adorned with posters of rock groups； speedway stars； and a host of other paraphernalia which he did not understand； was no longer the kid's bedroom to which he had right of entry at any time。 It was a temple of teenage worship where homage was paid to cardboard idols。
Richard was lying on the bed； fully clothed； arms folded behind his head。 He sat up as the door opened； his features twisting in fury and indignation。
'What the hell d'you mean by barging in here like this？' Wisely the youth had declined to use a four…lettered word。
Coyle closed the door quietly behind him。 He stood with his back to it； regarding his son with an expression as hard as the granite below 'Holocaust'。
'You haven't been to work today。'
'No； I bloody well haven't。 That's my business。'
'Not whilst you live under this roof。'
'I pay my keep。 You even make a bloody profit out of me； like you do out of everything else。'
'That's because you're never here。 Maybe that Lakin girl charges you board； too。'
Richard leapt to his feet； fists clenched and raised。 Coyle realised his tactlessness。 His feelings had e to the boil。 Now it was going to be tough。 Well； he would just have to prove that he was the tougher of the two…physically； if necessary。
'Don't you talk to me like that in my own house。 I merely came in here to ask you a civil question。'
'Well； it doesn't seem that bloody way to me。 If I don't want to go to work； I won't。 Don't worry； I won't be sponging for cash。'
'You haven't been to work because you were laid off。 Sent home。'
'If you know all the answers； why bother asking me？'
'I want to know why you were laid off。'
'Ah； I get it。 Using me； eh？ You need a spy inside Oxide Reprocessing。 Well； you do your own dirty work。 Ask Dyne？ Maybe he'll tell you。 Or see if you can get one of my workmates to part with the information for a tenner。 Me； I don't take bribes。'
Coyle could contain himself no longer。 Every nerve in his body shook； his vision was momentarily blurred。 A split…second memory crossed his brain； from three years ago。 His son's fist smashing into his jaw。 This same room。 The posters 。。。 all this same teenage crap spinning around him。
His reaction； his provocation； powered the blow almost before he realised it。 Knuckles met unresisting bone and flesh； just below the right eye。 For perhaps a fraction of a second Richard was airborne； his calves catching on the side of the bed and propelling him backwards in a half…somersault。 A soft landing except for the jarring of the back of his skull as it struck the headboard。
Coyle fell forward； checked himself； and retained his balance。 Remorse threatened to swamp his anger。 Forcefully he rejected it。 It was too late to turn back now。 He had waited three years to strike that blow； a father's revenge against a son。 The score was even now。 All he wanted were some answers to his questions； and he had been forced to fight for them。
'You bastard！'
Richard rubbed his face just below his eye。 He wondered if the cheekbone was broken。 Already the swelling was beginning。 'You bastard！'
'Yes； I'm a bastard；' Coyle tried to hide his regret in a flood of bitterness。 'Remember the time you did that to me？'
An uneasy silence。 Heavy breathing。 Coyle heard hesitant footsteps on the stairs。 They receded。 Jane or Sarah； whichever of them it was； had decided not to intervene。
'Why were you laid off？ There's plenty of work up there。'
'How the hell should I know？'
'Every worker in any industry is informed why he's been laid off。 The bloody unions see to that。 Maybe this time they're content to hush it up。'
'Just a technical hitch。' There was a faint note of concession in Richard's voice。 His eye was swelling up； and already the bruise was fully evident。
'What sort of technical hitch？ A breakdown in machinery？ There's certainly no shortage of waste being brought in for disposal。'
'How the hell should I know？ They told us it might be a couple of days； even a week or a fortnight。 Report back Monday。'
'You went thr