Father brought it home from work on a Friday afternoon. Darren remembered it was Friday, because it had been the first—and last—time that Father had collected him from school, and it had been after his piano lesson. He had arrived in the silver BMW and waited at the school gate, standing out amongst the nannies and the mothers. Darren had been ten years old.
“You’re not a child anymore, Darren,” Father had said. “It’s time for you to stop playing and start learning, especially now Michelle is here.”
In retrospect, it was one of the most stupid things Father ever said to him. In retrospect, Darren was certain that the last time he played, in the childish sense of the word, was long before Michelle arrived, and had nothing to do with having a new baby sister. If anything, a baby sister was
