student. If that was art, he told himself, then he was glad he knew nothing about it. He sat back on the driving seat of the forklift and ran disapproving eyes over the images before him. Trees that looked like bare twigs were surrounded by big yellow flowers and figures that looked like something out of a bad Lowry painting ambled through this creation.
And all Reed could think about was how much the fucker who painted it must have got paid. He shook his head and stuck the forklift back in gear, guiding it across the concrete floor towards some pallets at the far end of the parking area. A number of the other workmen down there nodded or raised hands in greeting to him as he passed and Reed returned the gestures happily enough. He had always been good at hiding his feelings and what he was feeling right now needed to remain hidden he told himself. No point in bothering anyone else with it. No one gave a shit about any problems but their own so why mention what was troubling him. The fact that he’d found out the day before that his sixteen-year-old daughter was pregnant was of no concern or interest to anyone but himself and his ex-wife.
Even the thought of what he’d been told caused his brow to furrow. He sucked in a deep, dust infused breath then let it out in a deep sigh. Sixteen fucking years old and pregnant. What the hell had she been doing?
It’s pretty obvious what she’d been doing isn’t it?
Reed grunted again, trying to shift the thoughts from his mind but finding it impossible. His ex had told him the news by text. By fucking text! Hadn’t even had the decency to ring him or nip round and tell him face to face. Not that he would really have wanted to see her, certainly not to hear that kind of news but it was the principle. To be told by text that your fucking daughter has just been knocked up by some spotty little herbert that was probably going to do a runner before the end of the month was hardly the sort of news you wanted to get at any time let alone via fucking text. All he could hope was that his daughter was sensible enough to get rid of it. What was the point in having a kid at her age? She was only a kid herself. It would be two lives ruined. Her’s and the kid’s. She’d never be able to do anything in her life that she wanted to do, never have any money, never be able to fulfil any ambitions.
He watched as the twin forks of the machine lifted the pallets to their highest point, then, satisfied that his cargo was secure he set off back across the underground car park, the sound of the pneumatic drill ringing in his ears.
Ambitions. He shook his head. Did she even have any ambitions? Did she actually want more than to be stuck in a council flat somewhere looking after a fucking kid she didn’t even want? He swallowed hard. If he was honest he didn’t know. Since he and his wife had split up and his daughter had gone to live with her he barely saw his daughter more than twice a week. He had no idea what she wanted out of life, whether she even had aspirations beyond what now seemed her fate. He saw her on a Tuesday and a Friday if he was lucky. She came to where he lived and he cooked them dinner (well, heated something up that he’d taken from the freezer). And they usually sat in silence as he struggled to force out of her what she’d done at school that day or what she’d been doing. She didn’t want to be there, he knew that but it didn’t make it any easier to cope with. He wished that she’d talk to him, tell him what she was feeling. He wanted more than anything to know how she felt about the possibility of having a child at such a young age. But he feared he would never know now. They had gone beyond that stage. They’d never been very close but now the gulf between them was vast and unbridgeable. If she had the kid he feared there would never be any way back. He didn’t know what her mother thought of the situation he hadn’t asked and he wasn’t about to. What the
And all Reed could think about was how much the fucker who painted it must have got paid. He shook his head and stuck the forklift back in gear, guiding it across the concrete floor towards some pallets at the far end of the parking area. A number of the other workmen down there nodded or raised hands in greeting to him as he passed and Reed returned the gestures happily enough. He had always been good at hiding his feelings and what he was feeling right now needed to remain hidden he told himself. No point in bothering anyone else with it. No one gave a shit about any problems but their own so why mention what was troubling him. The fact that he’d found out the day before that his sixteen-year-old daughter was pregnant was of no concern or interest to anyone but himself and his ex-wife.
Even the thought of what he’d been told caused his brow to furrow. He sucked in a deep, dust infused breath then let it out in a deep sigh. Sixteen fucking years old and pregnant. What the hell had she been doing?
It’s pretty obvious what she’d been doing isn’t it?
Reed grunted again, trying to shift the thoughts from his mind but finding it impossible. His ex had told him the news by text. By fucking text! Hadn’t even had the decency to ring him or nip round and tell him face to face. Not that he would really have wanted to see her, certainly not to hear that kind of news but it was the principle. To be told by text that your fucking daughter has just been knocked up by some spotty little herbert that was probably going to do a runner before the end of the month was hardly the sort of news you wanted to get at any time let alone via fucking text. All he could hope was that his daughter was sensible enough to get rid of it. What was the point in having a kid at her age? She was only a kid herself. It would be two lives ruined. Her’s and the kid’s. She’d never be able to do anything in her life that she wanted to do, never have any money, never be able to fulfil any ambitions.
He watched as the twin forks of the machine lifted the pallets to their highest point, then, satisfied that his cargo was secure he set off back across the underground car park, the sound of the pneumatic drill ringing in his ears.
Ambitions. He shook his head. Did she even have any ambitions? Did she actually want more than to be stuck in a council flat somewhere looking after a fucking kid she didn’t even want? He swallowed hard. If he was honest he didn’t know. Since he and his wife had split up and his daughter had gone to live with her he barely saw his daughter more than twice a week. He had no idea what she wanted out of life, whether she even had aspirations beyond what now seemed her fate. He saw her on a Tuesday and a Friday if he was lucky. She came to where he lived and he cooked them dinner (well, heated something up that he’d taken from the freezer). And they usually sat in silence as he struggled to force out of her what she’d done at school that day or what she’d been doing. She didn’t want to be there, he knew that but it didn’t make it any easier to cope with. He wished that she’d talk to him, tell him what she was feeling. He wanted more than anything to know how she felt about the possibility of having a child at such a young age. But he feared he would never know now. They had gone beyond that stage. They’d never been very close but now the gulf between them was vast and unbridgeable. If she had the kid he feared there would never be any way back. He didn’t know what her mother thought of the situation he hadn’t asked and he wasn’t about to. What the
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