‘It’s not my place, Dan,’ she said. ‘I work for you. I’m an employee.’ She opened the washing-machine and began to push in the towels.
‘You’re more than that, Katra, you know you are. Now, what were you going to say?’
Katra sighed and closed the washing-machine door. ‘Old habits die hard,’ she said, as she straightened up. ‘That’s the expression you used before, right?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s as if you’ve got into the habit of letting Liam down, as if he doesn’t matter.’
‘Of course he matters,’ said Shepherd. ‘He’s my son.’
‘But work comes first?’
‘Of course,’ said Shepherd, and regretted the words as soon as they’d left his mouth. He sat down at the kitchen table as the ramifications of what he’d just said hit home. ‘Wow,’ he said.
Katra smiled sympathetically, knowing she’d proved her point.
‘I really said that, didn’t I?’ He put his head into his hands. ‘What a shit I am.’
Katra sat down opposite him. ‘He knows you love him,’ she said.
‘But he always comes second to my job. What sort of father am I?’
Katra reached across and put her hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s because when your wife was here it didn’t matter so much if you had to be away. He had a mother and a father. Now he has only you.’
Shepherd banged his fist against his head. ‘You’re right.’
‘I can be with him, so it’s not as if you leave him on his own, but I’m not his family.’
‘And I’m carrying on exactly as I was when Sue was here,’ he said. ‘I can’t believe I said work was more important than my son.’
‘It’s a demanding job,’ said Katra.
‘That’s no excuse,’ said Shepherd. ‘I’ve been such a bastard to him.’
‘No,’ said Katra. ‘He understands. Really. And he’s proud of you. He talks about you all the time when you’re not here,’ she said.
‘I didn’t know that.’
‘You don’t tell him much about your work, but he knows you don’t have a job like his friends’ fathers. He understands you don’t work regular hours.’
‘I don’t think I could do any other sort of job.’
‘Even for Liam?’
Shepherd sat back and ran his hands through his hair. ‘I want both.’ He sighed. ‘I want a job that challenges me, and I want to be a good father.’
‘Perhaps you can’t have both,’ said Katra. ‘Perhaps you have to choose.’
Shepherd pushed back his chair and stood up. ‘You might be right,’ he said. He went upstairs and knocked on Liam’s bedroom door. When the boy didn’t answer, Shepherd knocked again and opened the door a little way. ‘Liam, can I come in?’ Sue and he had made it a rule since Liam was seven that they asked permission to enter his bedroom. And Liam had to do the same with theirs. It had taught him the value of privacy, and prevented embarrassing interruptions. ‘Liam, I’d like to talk to you.’
‘There’s nothing to talk about,’ said Liam.
Shepherd opened the door fully. His son was lying on his bed, gazing up at the ceiling. ‘I’m sorry,’ said Shepherd.
‘You’re always sorry.’
Shepherd sat down on the side of the bed. Liam rolled away from him. ‘It’s a big case,’ said Shepherd. ‘It’s one I’ve been working on for a long time.’
Liam said nothing.
‘Last time I was away, remember? I had to go to France. I was on a boat. I told you, right? Well, it’s that case and I’m still working on it. I’ll have to go back to France again and this is part of that. I have to go and see some people this afternoon.’
‘Why today? It’s Saturday.’
‘The bad guys don’t work office hours, Liam. I can’t tell them I’m playing football with my son, can I?’
‘Why not?’
Another question to which Shepherd had no answer.
‘Do the bad guys have kids?’
‘One does,’ said Shepherd. He thought of the four photographs Salik had shown him. ‘Four. One’s a boy of about your age.’
Liam rolled back to face Shepherd. His cheeks were wet with tears. ‘So he’d understand. He’d play football with his kids, right?’
Shepherd imagined Salik running around with his children, sweating and panting as he tried to keep up. ‘Probably,’ he said.
‘So?’
‘So what?’
‘So tell him you promised to play football with your son and that you’ll see him next week.’
‘It’s not as simple as that.’
‘Why?’
‘Like I said, it’s a big case.’
‘Is it drugs?’
‘No. Fake money.’
‘And are they gangsters?’