He pushes the key into the lock but he cannot open the door. After trying a second time to twist the key in both directions, he puts down his bag then slips a hand into the letterbox. He takes a grip which enables him to pull the door towards himself and turn the key at the same time. The key swivels and he shoves open the door and steps inside. The unpleasant smell of mouldy food wafts through the darkness and his hand scrambles up and down the wall until he finds the light switch. He retrieves his bag from the doorstep and closes the door behind him with a resounding clatter. He coughs then cups his hand to his mouth and nose, before moving into the kitchen where he sees that Baron has neither cleared the pots and pans from off the top of the cooker, nor has he done the washing up. However, he can’t blame him for he must have been in a rush to get his father to the hospital. He looks at the mess, but in spite of his own fatigue he knows that he won’t be able to relax until he has cleaned up. When the nurse had suggested to him that he leave now so that his father could rest, he hesitated and thought about insisting that he be allowed to remain seated in case the patient woke up and wanted to keep talking, but he realised that the stern-faced woman would have none of it. ‘Will you be wanting me to tell you a second time?’ He continued to look at the slumbering man, whose pursed lips suggested a quiet determination, but he realised that, in fact, he was the one who needed to rest. He stood up from the metal chair and stretched. The neon green parabola continued to blip away reassuringly on the small screen to the side of his father’s bed, and he wanted to ask the nurse if his father was ‘stable’, whatever that meant. ‘If you take my advice you’ll be away to get some sleep. No point in the two of you being sick.’ The nurse was now leaning over her patient and busily applying extra tape to the needle that was attached to his father’s arm. He looked at her and decided that it was best not to argue with, or even question, the woman. Everything could wait until tomorrow.