Mr Carter wiped the sweat from the back of his neck. The damp patches on his shirt drew together like shapes war essay topics order a thesis in an atlas. His skin was already turning ruddy in the June sun. Otherwise he had the indoor tan of a man that made money while other people did the work.
‘I’ve brought my son with me on this trip. He’s had some trouble at school.’ Mr Carter’s eyes flicked up, blinked rapidly and then shifted back to the hat occupying his hands. ‘Not much trouble out here for a young boy.’ He attempted a laugh but it came out like a dog’s bark.