Thicker Than Water

Authors: Kerry Wilkinson - DS Jessica Daniel 06 - Thicker Than Water

KERRY WILKINSON

THICKER THAN WATER

PAN BOOKS

Contents

Cameron Sexton’s finger hovered over the standby button on the television remote control. He thought about calling upstairs to see if his wife was almost ready but
figured if he kept quiet he might at least be able to watch the kick-off before having to leave the house.

He glanced at the teenager fidgeting nervously in the armchair across the room.

‘Are you all right, Ollie?’ Cameron asked.

The young man looked up from the television, nodding a little too enthusiastically. ‘Yes, Mr Sexton,’ he said. ‘Thanks for calling me.’

‘It’s Cameron and thank
you
. It’s always nice to have a reliable babysitter. How are your mum and dad doing?’

Oliver nodded, offering a vague ‘all right’, which Cameron thought could mean either ‘they’re absolutely wonderful, never been better’, or ‘they’ve
split up and are living at opposite ends of the country’, depending on which way the teenager’s hormones were raging.

The sound of a whistle and an overly excited commentator took Cameron’s eyes back towards the television screen. If he had remembered that the football was on, he would have suggested a
different night to go out for a meal with his wife.

Cameron leant back into his seat as the commentator’s voice plus the oohs and aahs of the crowd broke the uneasy silence between him and Oliver. He tried to focus on the screen, resisting
the urge to tug his suit trousers into a more comfortable position. They were feeling a little tight around his waist, although he tried to tell himself it was because they must have shrunk
slightly at the cleaners, as opposed to his forty-something stomach being less forgiving nowadays.

The match was dull and Cameron felt his mind wandering. It was strange to be leaving your child at home in the hands of someone else, especially a person you didn’t know that well and who
wasn’t technically an adult. Using Oliver had been his wife’s idea. Eleanor knew his mother and, because he was about as polite and sensible as a teenager could be, they had asked him
to look after Lara for an evening a few months ago while they went to the pub around the corner for a meal.

That had now become a monthly event that was both enjoyable and tentative. If anything, Cameron would have thought his wife would be the one nervous about leaving Lara – but she kept
saying they were going to have to get used to it, which was true but also a bit of a shame.

Cameron squinted so he could read the match time in the top left corner of the screen and was surprised to see the game had already been going for five minutes. He stifled a sigh before standing
and reaching across to hand the remote to Oliver.

‘Here, you take this. We should be off out any minute. Well, whenever Eleanor is ready. You’ve got all this to come with girls and the like . . .’

Oliver took the control, shuffling in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. Cameron didn’t know if the teenager had a girlfriend, or possibly even a boyfriend. The young man
didn’t seem overly confident but Cameron knew from his own experiences of being that age that very few seventeen-year-old lads had the bravado to talk to girls first. The ones that did were
usually the biggest prats going, covered in gel and too much deodorant, not realising they were a couple of years away from ending up in some dead-end job for the rest of their lives.

Wondering when exactly he’d stopped knowing how to talk to the younger generation, Cameron offered a weak-sounding ‘you can watch what you want’, before adding:
‘I’ll go see where she is.’

He headed out of the room, moving quietly up the stairs until he saw his wife standing in the doorway of their daughter’s room, her outline silhouetted by the night light from inside.
Cameron stepped towards her, placing his hands on her hips and pulling her tightly as she gave a yelp of surprise.

‘You scared me,’ Eleanor said with a smile, playfully slapping his chest.

Cameron waggled his fingers in her face. ‘Oooh, yes, I’m really scary.’

Eleanor giggled and turned around, pressing her back into him and resting her head on his breastbone. They stood silently in the doorway, watching their daughter’s chest rise and fall, her
eyelids twitching. Cameron found himself breathing in time with the young girl before his wife spoke softly.

‘She’s okay, isn’t she?’ Eleanor said.

‘Well, she has got my genes. Let’s just hope she ends up with my looks, intelligence, charm and charisma.’

Eleanor suppressed a laugh, spinning around, snaking an arm around her husband’s waist and butting his shoulder gently with her head. ‘As long as she doesn’t have your head
size.’

Cameron hugged his wife with one arm, using the other to pull the bedroom door until it was almost closed. ‘And are you okay?’ he asked.

‘I can’t believe she starts school in September. It only seems like yesterday we were in the hospital. Tomorrow she’ll be dyeing her hair black and refusing to speak to
us.’

As he smoothed down his wife’s hair, Cameron tried not to laugh. ‘Is that what you were like as a teenager?’

‘I never dyed my hair but basically, yes.’

‘At least we’ll know where she gets it from then.’ Cameron loosened his grip, kissing his wife on the top of the head. ‘Come on, let’s get going, or we’ll
never leave.’

Eleanor peered up at him wearily. She looked as tired as Cameron felt. When they had talked about having a regular ‘date night’, they’d agreed that regardless of his job, or
how exhausted either of them felt, they would ensure they had one night a month for each other.

‘Is Ollie all right?’ Eleanor asked.

‘I left him in charge of the TV and he knows where everything is. I made sure the baby monitor was working earlier, so he’s all set. I even put a pizza in the oven for
him.’

‘Wow, my hero,’ she mocked with a grin. ‘Let’s hope Lara grows up to have your culinary skills as well as your giant head.’

Cameron glanced at his watch as discreetly as he could, not wanting to let on that he was in any way concerned about the time.

‘How long ago did we order?’ Eleanor asked.

Realising he had been caught, Cameron tried to reply in a way that didn’t betray how annoyed he was. ‘Around forty-five minutes,’ he replied, knowing it was over an hour.

‘I’m tempted just to say “sod it” and get a burger on the way home.’

Cameron failed to suppress a grin. ‘Classy.’

Eleanor was trying to stop herself smiling too. ‘You’re the one checking the time.’

‘I was checking out the back of my hand actually.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘They’re still hairy and clumsy, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

Before Cameron could respond, a waiter appeared over his wife’s shoulder. ‘Risotto?’ he asked, before placing the plate in front of Eleanor and offering the steak to Cameron.
‘Any sauces?’

Cameron couldn’t avoid his wife’s disapproving stare. ‘No, fine, thanks,’ he said, before waiting for the man to walk away. ‘What?’ he added innocently,
looking at her, even though he knew exactly what she was thinking.

‘You don’t ask for ketchup in a restaurant,’ Eleanor said.

‘I didn’t.’

‘No but you were thinking about it.’

Cameron shook his head but could not stop himself smiling. ‘What are you, the thought police?’

‘When it comes to you, yes.’

Cameron cut into the meat, feeling his stomach rumble as a small amount of juice oozed onto the plate. Despite the time it had taken, he did have to admit the steak looked perfectly cooked and
he had no doubt the thick, chunky, skin-on chips would be excellent too.

‘Is it nice?’ he asked his wife, nodding towards her bowl.

Eleanor chewed with her mouth tightly shut but nodded.

‘Worth the wait?’ Cameron added as he put a forkful of meat into his mouth.

She swallowed, taking a sip from her glass. ‘Maybe.’

‘What is a risotto anyway?’

He looked up to see Eleanor narrowing her eyes in the way that made the top of her nose crinkle. A strand of blonde hair fell across her face. Cameron thought she looked as gorgeous as ever as
she moved it away. ‘How old are you?’ she asked.

‘Forty . . . ish. What’s that got to do with anything?’

Eleanor swallowed another mouthful. ‘It’s a rice dish. How can you not know that?’

‘I don’t know, I’ve never had it.’ Cameron picked up a slice of steak with his fork and held it in the air. ‘I eat man food.’

His wife smirked. ‘Is that why your trousers are too tight?’

Cameron pulled a face of mock indignation, trying to think of something funny to respond with.

‘Forty . . . ish,’ Eleanor reminded him.

As they ate and chatted, Cameron risked another glance at his watch. They weren’t running late as such but neither he nor his wife wanted to stay out any longer than they had to. He
remembered the first time they had left Lara with Oliver, they had wolfed down a main course and then rushed home barely an hour later to find their daughter sleeping peacefully and the babysitter
watching a film.

They had stayed out progressively longer on each subsequent date night. Somewhere at the back of his mind, Cameron expected to arrive home each time with the house a mess and Lara nowhere to be
seen. It wasn’t that he distrusted Oliver in any way, just that the irrational voice in his head always seemed to have more prominence than it should. They never went to the cinema because
neither of them wanted to have their mobile phones on silent just in case they missed something. Even when they went to have something to eat, Cameron would make sure there was good phone reception
and ensure Oliver had the restaurant’s landline number just in case. He knew it was overdoing it but nothing would stop that little niggle that told him he should not leave his daughter.

He drifted back to the present as Eleanor put her fork down, picking up her napkin before starting to dab at her mouth. ‘Are you okay?’ she asked, apparently noticing his
distraction.

‘Fine, just thinking about dessert.’

Eleanor clearly wasn’t taken in. ‘She’ll be fine.’

‘I know.’

She tilted her head to one side, smiling widely. It was the exact expression that had made Cameron fall in love with her. She had a way of both grinning and chiding at the same time, one eye
twinkling, the other attentive. ‘I’ll go phone the house while you look at the puddings,’ she said, standing up. ‘I’m not letting your trousers out for next time
though.’

Cameron watched her walk away, her hips swaying, wondering if she would still be awake by the time he had managed to give Oliver a lift home. With those thoughts in mind, he was considering if
dessert was a good idea after all. It wasn’t often he saw his wife dressed up nowadays; the months of maternity wear, sensible shoes and breast pumps had become a necessary – albeit not
too appealing – part of their lives.

As he took a cursory glance at the back of the menu, Cameron kept an eye fixed on the direction Eleanor had gone in. He had expected her to be barely a minute or two but began to feel something
building in his stomach completely unrelated to what he had just eaten. Putting down the menu, Cameron watched the doorway. After a few minutes more, Eleanor finally emerged but he could see
immediately that something was wrong. The smile from a few minutes before had disappeared as she walked quickly, the sway absent from her stride as she stared at her mobile phone. She didn’t
sit as she arrived back at the table.

‘What’s wrong?’ Cameron asked, standing himself.

‘No one’s answering.’

‘Did you try the house phone?’

‘Of course.’

‘What about Oliver’s mobile?’

‘That too – no answer.’

Cameron started patting his pockets, wondering which one he had put his car keys in. ‘Shall we call the neighbours?’