Eye Spy by Tessa Buckley Page B

favourite golden oldies programme on the radio. If she was singing again, things must be improving.
    When she saw us, Nan pointed silently, and we saw the light in the workshop window, twinkling away at the bottom of the garden. Nobody said anything, but we all heaved a collective sigh of relief. It looked as if things were back to normal.
    â€œNow Ian’s working again,” Nan said, as she put on her coat and picked up her handbag, “I feel I can safely go out and enjoy myself, so I’ve arranged to go to the cinema with Marjorie. There’s a casserole for you all in the oven. See you later.”
    At half past six I called Dad in from the workshop and Donna served up the casserole. We chatted as we ate, and Dad joined in from time to time. Although he was still quite preoccupied, he seemed in a good mood. After we’d finished eating, he stayed at the table, drawing diagrams on scraps of paper. We squinted over his shoulder at the squiggly lines. “What is it?” Donna asked.
    â€œI’m making modifications to Hamish so he can identify smells,” Dad said. “It means he’ll be able to detect drugs, just like a sniffer dog. It’ll make him more marketable.”
    Donna and I looked at each other. The moment had arrived. I took a deep breath and launched into the speech I’d prepared.
    â€œAt school today, a couple of people from a big company gave a talk about design and technology. They said they had a big research department and were looking for new ideas. They sounded like just the sort of people who’d be interested in Hamish.”
    Dad didn’t seem particularly enthusiastic. “I doubt it, Alex. It’s a very specialised field. Very few companies in this country are geared up for this sort of modern technology.”
    â€œThat’s just it, Dad!” said Donna eagerly. “They already make cameras and sensors, so surely they’re ideal.”
    She had his full attention now. He raised his eyebrows at her. “You think so, do you? And what’s the name of this ‘ideal’ company?”
    â€œIt’s Holtech, Dad. They’re a local company…” Donna’s voice tailed off as she saw Dad’s expression change.
    â€œHoltech,” he said softly. “I see. And did you by any chance mention my robot to them?” He was standing up now, and glowering at Donna across the table.
    I jumped to her defence. “Of course not, Dad. Not exactly…”
    â€œYou
promised
not to tell anyone! So much for family loyalty! How dare you interfere!” His voice rose in anger, and my stomach began to turn somersaults. Everything was going horribly wrong. We’d meant well, but somehow we’d only made things worse.
    Donna leapt to her feet. She was as angry as he was now. “Don’t you
want
to sell any of your inventions?” she shouted. “Don’t you
want
to make some money? Or do you just want to be a loser all your life?”
    Dad reached across the table and slapped her hard on the face.
    There was a sudden silence as we both stared at him, horror-struck. He’d never laid a hand on either of us before. Then Donna pushed back her chair and dashed out of the room. I heard her feet pounding up the stairs and then the sound of her bedroom door slamming.
    Dad sank back onto his chair. All his anger seemed to have drained away. He dropped his head into his hands. “Get out and leave me alone,” he muttered. “Go on – buzz off!”
    As I went slowly upstairs, I realised my legs were shaking. I couldn’t believe Dad had hit Donna. And
why
had he hit her? OK, she shouldn’t have called him a loser, but it seemed to be our attempt to help him sell the robot that had really angered him. And why had our mention of Holtech sent him over the edge?
    A few minutes later, when I looked out of my bedroom window, I saw Dad charging off down the road as if the Hound of the