Chapter SevenMr. Spencer appeared stressed, a thin film of sweat glistening across his forehead, a nervous tic playing in the corner of his eye. Daniel watched him constantly fiddle with his wad of papers, flicking through them one sheet at a time, pausing every two or three pages to lick a finger, like a bank-teller. Daniel wondered if he'd lost something; Spencer looked like one of those irritating types who had to know every item was in its right place. Nothing else would do. Fastidious. A sure way to a nervous breakdown, Daniel thought, hiding a smile behind his hand.
At last, Spencer gave a faint cry of relief and looked up, face beaming, spectacles, perched on the end of his nose, now firmly pushed back. “Sorry about that, just checking everything is in order.”
Dad muttered somethi
