He arrived at a decision. They were violating Bluebird, they were desecrating it, they were injuring him, they were laughing at Daniel, and he would make them pay. Sure, he would be living down to everything they thought of him. He didn’t care. He just didn’t care. They would recognise his authority if it killed him.

‘Eh!’

Frontal’s binoculars were tugged roughly from his eyes. The body on the other end of that rude hand belonged to the person he most loved in the world.

‘You doing a recce for us?’ Daniel asked, the ‘us’ alerting his father to his companion. Squinting against the sun, Frontal thought he must be mistaken: the most unlikely, the last chum his boy should ever have.

‘How’s it hanging, Frontal?’

Carl Chidgey was not, from appearances, presently in a psychotic state. Small mercies. As long as Frontal had known the guy, there were only two gears: the mellow, harmless, probably stoned Carl, and the incoming headbutt. Whichever Carl this was, what on earth was his Daniel doing with him?

In response to his father’s unasked question, Daniel glanced at Carl, whose eyelid twitched.

‘I got bored at home,’ Daniel said.

‘It’s all good, mon ami,’ Carl said. ‘Tout va bien.’

‘It’s fine, Dad,’ Daniel said.

It wasn’t fine. It couldn’t be fine if Daniel was with this man. It was so ingrained in Frontal’s nature to know the lines of relationship among everyone in Bluebird, his internal motherboard melted down to see his Daniel creeping around the beachfront with Carl Chidgey like a pair of criminals planning their next enterprise. What was wrong with this picture? he thought. What was right with this picture?

He saw Daniel wondering the same about him: peeping through his binoculars, same park, same suspicious odour. He’d caught them out, yet it felt like they had caught him. A jagged lump rollicked around inside his gut. Standing over him, these two men were tough. They were purposeful. They were up to no good.

Frontal nodded towards The Lodge. ‘Is that where you’re going?’

Another glance between Carl and Daniel.

‘Do you want us to?’ Carl asked.

All I want, Frontal thought, is to put a world between you and my son. For Daniel to go home and for you to go to hell.

‘I’m moving in,’ Carl said. ‘Nice, eh?’

‘That will exceed the occupancy regulations,’ Frontal said, rising to his feet and feeling that a bracing discussion about zoning might bring him back to himself. His knees were killing him and his head spun from getting up too quickly. He put his hand out. Daniel steadied him, and then let go.

‘Hey, Dan’, Carl said. Dan? Since when is my boy your ‘Dan’? ‘Why is your old fella so uptight?’