Daddy drank deeply from his glass of Scotch and laughed, but it wasn’t a happy laugh. It shot out, rat-a-tat-tat, and Lee was surprised to realise that it was aimed at his own stripey sweater. Was he not strong? Lee wiped off the oil smeared around his lips. Is that what Daddy meant? The worst part of his father’s cruelty was its inconsistency. Lee never knew when he was going to receive a cold look or a light smack or – and this hurt the most – a sneering insult.
