19
The day drew on, people beginning to drift off home, and when Richard returned from the churchyard, he saw that his dad was awake at last. He and Brian were talking in an animated manner, arms gesticulating wildly, faces red. Approaching, Richard heard their raised voices, but before he could say anything, his dad caught sight of him, broke off the conversation, and ran forward.
“Richard!” He threw his arms around him, hugging him tightly. “Where have you been – we’ve been worried sick.”
“It’s all right, Dad,” he said, disentangling himself from the embrace. “I’ve been talking to Stannard.”
“Stannard?” Richard nodded. “What about? What did he say?”
“Lots.” Richard pulled his dad to one side. “I think I’m beginning to sort this out, Dad,” he tapped his head with a finger, “in here.
