Chapter 6
No smell of frying bacon or brewing coffee greeted us on Sunday morning. However, once we were all downstairs, Sam offered to make breakfast, but I told him I didn’t expect him to cook for us every weekend.
I poured bowls of cereal, which I followed up with scrambled eggs, sausages, and some tomatoes that were only fit for frying. Not the healthiest of breakfasts, but it was Sunday.
We sent Sam to the newsagent’s for the Sunday papers and then Mark and I sat on the sofa reading while Sam did a last bit of homework. I had to smile, because when I’d been his age I’d often left homework until the last minute.
After an hour or so catching up on the gossip and scandal of the rich and famous—which most papers seemed to thrive on—we decided to go for a walk. This time we chose the
