Thicker Than Water (7 page)

He went up the stairs two at a time, hurrying from room to room switching on lights. Her shoes lay half under the bed, no doubt where she’d kicked them off to put on her boots. On the table in the living room was a small pile of presents still waiting to be wrapped.

James went to the phone and dialled her mobile. After a few rings, it switched to voice mail. Trying to keep incipient panic from his voice, he said, ‘Where are you, darling? It’s four o’clock and almost dark. Please ring me, I’m worried about you.’

Suppose, he thought suddenly, she’d had an accident in the orchard? Tried to climb one of the trees and fallen, for instance?

She’d have used her mobile, said the other half of his brain.

But suppose she hit her head and was knocked unconscious? Or the phone might have slipped from her pocket and be out of reach?

He snatched up the pad by the phone and scrawled a note.

4pm. Worried you might have had an accident in the orchard. Am going to look. If you get back before me, please phone my mobile at once. Love you. J.

Then, collecting a torch from the kitchen cupboard, he hurried back to his car.

Tina loved this time of year. The living room, lit only by firelight and the fairy lights on the tree, had taken on its once-a-year magic, compounded of the scent of pine needles, the strings of Christmas cards, the holly behind the picture-frames. All that was missing was the mistletoe that would arrive with James and Abigail.

She’d not yet drawn the curtains, and the cosy, firelit room was reflected in the dark glass of the rain-lashed windows. Ben had finished work for the holiday, and tomorrow the whole family would gather at the Old Rectory, to exchange presents and partake of Christmas lunch. With a contented sigh, she reached again into the decorations box and extracted a length of tinsel.

‘What time is Uncle James coming?’ Lily asked, hanging a chocolate soldier on the tree.

‘About seven, I should think.’

‘It’s a pity he’s not staying. It’s more fun when he’s here for the stocking-opening. Have you done one for him?’

In the Rivers family, it was tradition for the adults also to have stockings.

‘Of course not. You have to be here at seven on Christmas morning to qualify.’

Lily laughed. ‘Perhaps Abigail will give him one.’

Tina’s eyes met her husband’s, both of them doubting the possibility.

‘What time’s dinner?’ Charlie asked.

‘Not for another couple of hours. You can have an apple or tangerine if you’re hungry.’

‘Can I have a biscuit?’

‘No, only fruit.’

Grumblingly, Charlie went in search of some.

Ben looked up suddenly. ‘Was that a car?’

Tina frowned. ‘Surely they’re not here already?’

They both went quickly into the hall, reaching the kitchen as the back door was flung violently back on its hinges, letting in a gust of wind and rain as James, hair wild and white-faced, burst into the room.

Tina’s hand felt instinctively for her husband’s as they both stared at him. Then, his face suddenly contorted, he burst out, ‘It’s Abigail! Oh God, it’s Abigail! Somebody’s killed her!’

PART II – CALLUM

Five

Mindful of her floury hands, Judy Firbank pushed a strand of hair off her face with her forearm. Her friend Elaine, seated at the kitchen table, watched her with resignation.

‘Lord knows why you don’t
buy
the things from Waitrose or M & S, like the rest of us,’ she said.

‘I enjoy doing it myself,’ Judy replied. ‘Anyway, it’s not all that often – only for the children’s parties.’

Elaine glanced at the elaborate birthday cake on the side, a fairy castle covered in pink icing, with six candles distributed among the turrets and ramparts.

‘You make me feel totally inadequate,’ she complained humorously. ‘My kids get whatever’s on the supermarket shelves. Come to that, Bob’s tarred with the same brush, sitting back while Callum coaches Josh with his maths.’

Judy, her hair screening her face, frowned fleetingly. ‘He enjoys it,’ she said lightly as she rolled the pastry. ‘Being a father of daughters, he looks on Josh as a surrogate son.’

‘And it doesn’t stop at the coaching,’ Elaine continued. ‘If you ask me, Bob gets off altogether too lightly, lounging around or playing golf while Callum takes his son to football matches.’

‘Well, it’s not easy for Bob to plan his free time, is it?’

Bob Nelson was a doctor at the local hospital. He and his family lived next door to the Firbanks, and over the years they’d become close friends, often holidaying together.

‘I’m simply saying you’re a paragon pair. Don’t argue – just accept the compliment!’

‘But let’s face it, Elaine, apart from my voluntary work, it’s all I do. I have all the time in the world to bake fancy cakes and make my own patés and things – and enjoy doing it. You not only have to run your household, but hold down a responsible job as well.’

‘Will you settle for domestic goddess then?’

Judy smiled. ‘If you insist. Anyway, you’re both doing your bit tomorrow, taking Luisa to the cinema. It’s beneath her dignity to spend an afternoon surrounded by six-year-olds.’

‘No problem, she’ll be company for Phoebe. Send her round about one thirty – the film starts at two – and we’ll feed her afterwards.’ She put down her coffee cup. ‘I must go; I’ve some things to collect from the drycleaners before meeting the kids. Thanks for the coffee, and good luck with the party.’

After she’d gone, Judy, continuing with her baking, mentally replayed her friend’s comments. Though Elaine hadn’t realized it, she’d touched on a sore point, for over the last year or so, Judy had become increasingly resentful of the time her husband devoted to their neighbours’ son. Many was the weekend he’d taken Josh to some sporting event, instead of helping her entertain their daughters.

Once, Luisa, not remotely interested in football, had begged to go with them – simply, Judy knew with a tug of the heart, in order to be with her father.

But Callum had said lightly, ‘Not your scene at all, poppet. This is boys’ stuff.’ And he and Josh had set off, leaving the forlorn little figure gazing after them.

Judy had tackled Callum about it afterwards. ‘Anyone would think you loved Josh more than your own children!’ she’d accused, close to tears. He’d been genuinely surprised.

‘Sweetheart, you know I worship you and the kids. You’re my whole world. How can you say that?’

‘You spend more time with him than you do with them.’

He’d pulled her gently into his arms. ‘I can see you’re upset, but that really is nonsense, you know. It’s just that I feel sorry for the boy. Bob’s so tied up in his own affairs, he never seems to take him out, and lads that age need quality time with a father figure.’

‘Not a father
figure
, a father,’ she had said.

But she’d not been entirely fair; Callum
was
a good father. He had played with his children, read them bedtime stories, taken them to the zoo and for walks along the river. It was only over the last year that he’d spent noticeably more time with Josh.

Damn it, Judy thought now, with a spurt of anger, the Nelsons weren’t short of a bob or two. If the boy needed extra coaching, they could afford to pay for it, instead of taking advantage of Callum’s good nature.

She caught herself on the thought, shaking her head. It was no use blaming Bob and Elaine; Callum had volunteered for the duty – been quite pressing, as she remembered. They might have felt he’d be offended if they made other arrangements.

Judy spaced the sausage rolls on the baking tray, slipped it into the oven, and set the timer. Then, out of the blue, a memory, long forgotten, came back to her, and with it, a sense of unease.

It had been the weekend after their engagement, when she took Callum to meet the family. It was a fairly large gathering: her parents, grandparents, her brother, his wife, and their three children. And suddenly, amid all the laughing and talking, she’d realized Callum wasn’t in the room – that, in fact, it had been some time since she’d seen him.

Alarmed that he might have been taken ill, she’d gone in search of him, finally running him to ground in the den, engrossed in a video game with her thirteen-year-old nephew.

He’d been teased mercilessly at the time – preferring the company of a young boy to his new fiancée, and so on, and though Judy had joined in the general laughter, she’d been hurt. Odd, she thought now, that Giles had been exactly the same age then as Josh was now. Did Callum secretly long for a son? He’d shown no sign of it when the children were younger, professing himself delighted with his ‘two princesses’. Perhaps it was only when a boy was old enough to share his interests that the lack had been felt.

She shook herself free of her musings, glancing at the clock on the wall. The children would be home soon – it was Elaine’s turn to do the school run – and she’d not completed as much as she’d hoped. Now, her preparations would be slowed down still further, with Flora insisting on measuring, stirring and tasting. It was part of the build-up to the party, Judy thought with a fond smile, but Callum would have to settle for a takeaway tonight.

‘I had lunch with Callum,’ Bob Nelson said, pouring out a measure of whisky. He gave a brief laugh. ‘Would you believe, he actually offered to take the kids to the cinema tomorrow, so we could, as he put it, “do our own thing”.’

‘What did you say?’ Elaine asked.

‘That he’d be drummed out of hearth and home if he didn’t attend his daughter’s birthday party.’

‘Quite right, too. Anyway, it’s not that often our two have the benefit of your company.’

She looked up from the potatoes she was peeling. ‘Sometimes,’ she said reflectively, ‘I almost get the impression he’d like to adopt Josh. He certainly puts you to shame, the amount of time he spends with him.’

‘Well, good luck to him,’ Bob said good-naturedly. ‘I did enough maths in my youth to last me for life, and as you know, football’s never been my thing.’

‘Fair enough, but surely you could find something you both enjoy. Josh is growing up, Bob; he needs your input. Judy said Callum thinks of him as a surrogate son; if you’re not careful, Josh will think of
him
as a surrogate father, and when you
are
ready to spend more time with him, it might be too late.’

‘Hey!’ Bob protested, hitching himself on to a corner of the table. ‘I’m not an absentee parent. I’m here, aren’t I? Josh knows if he has any problems, he can always come to me.’

‘My point,’ said Elaine, ‘is that you should sometimes go to him.’

Callum, driving slowly home in rush-hour traffic, contemplated the weekend ahead with little enthusiasm. To be honest, he’d have much preferred to see the latest Harry Potter with Josh and the others, than face a horde of excited little girls who needed entertaining every minute of the two hours they’d spend at the house.

Judy had shown him the list of games she’d drawn up the previous evening. He’d be called into service to halt the music for Pass the Parcel, adjudicate the winner of Pin the Tail on the Donkey, and help distribute the food at teatime, no doubt mopping up spilt apple juice as he did so.

He frowned, his thoughts returning to Josh. Something was worrying the boy, he felt sure. The last couple of weeks he’d seemed abstracted, though he insisted nothing was wrong. Callum had considered mentioning it to Bob over lunch, but decided against it. He was chary of suggesting he knew more about the boy than his own father – even though that might be true.

All the same, he felt uneasy. Thirteen was a critical age; what happened at that stage of a boy’s development could have a lasting effect on his life, as he knew only too well. It was essential to keep the lines of communication open, try to protect Josh from himself, steer him in the right direction, but to his frustration, Bob didn’t seem to realize this. Thank God he had daughters! he thought wryly, as he turned into his gateway.

Josh Nelson sat at the desk in his room, staring down at his maths homework. He wished passionately that this was one of his coaching evenings, not only so that Callum could suggest methods of working out the sums, but so that he’d have to concentrate on what he was doing, and his mind wouldn’t keep going back to the incident at the school gates.

He’d been flattered at first when Dave Harris, a prefect, had complimented him after he and some other sixth-formers had stopped to watch his football training after school. Dave was a hero to the younger kids, excelling as he did at all sports, and according to Susie Tennant, who sat next to Josh in class, he was good-looking as well, with his mop of fair hair and easy grin.

But over the last week or two, Dave’s attentions had become an embarrassment, and Josh wished he’d just leave him alone. Several times he’d watched from the sidelines when Josh was playing and come up to him afterwards. Then today, as he was leaving school, he’d been waiting for him, and asked if he’d like to go for a coke.

Luckily, it was just as Mum drove up and he had the perfect excuse, hurrying, scarlet-faced, to the car with Phoebe and the others. Next week was half-term so he had a break, but he wasn’t looking forward to going back to school. He wondered how Dave would react when he ran out of excuses.

Once a month, the Firbanks and the Nelsons went out for dinner to a Cambridge restaurant, taking a taxi both ways so they could all enjoy wine with their meal.

That February evening, in the middle of half-term, Callum was still undecided about whether to mention his worries about Josh. The more he considered it, the more intrusive it seemed, and he’d spent the day trying to balance Bob and Elaine’s probable annoyance against his concern for the boy’s welfare.

But soon after they’d placed their order, Bob made a comment that banished Josh from his mind.

‘Someone was asking about you today, Callum,’ he remarked, holding up his wine glass to check the colour.

‘Oh? Who was that?’ No alarm bells so far.

‘Didn’t catch his name – approached me as I was leaving the hospital. Said he’d been trying to trace you, and someone had told him we were neighbours.’

‘He could have found me in the phone book, if he knew my name.’

‘Actually, he didn’t – or at least, not all of it. He asked me your surname, and whether you’d ever lived up north.’

Callum went still, his heart setting up a heavy thumping in his chest.

Judy glanced at him, surprised by his silence. ‘Well,’ she said lightly, ‘the answer to that is no. You were brought up in Surrey, weren’t you, darling?’

Callum nodded, moistening his lips. ‘What else did he say?’ His voice sounded strained to his ears, but the others didn’t seem to notice.

‘Nothing, really. I was in a hurry, so I didn’t prolong the conversation.’

Callum made a supreme effort to appear casual. ‘What did he look like, this chap?’

‘Pretty unremarkable. Medium height, sandy hair, about our age. Ring any bells?’

‘No. You didn’t give him my address?’

Bob shook his head. ‘He didn’t ask for it, but I wouldn’t have anyway. It’s not something I hand out to passing strangers.’

The waiter materialized with their first course, and they sat in silence as he placed the dishes in front of them. Callum was desperately trying to think how he could learn more about this stranger without appearing overcurious, but as the waiter moved away, Elaine said, ‘I meant to tell you, Jude, I saw Miranda yesterday, and she’s all right for Tuesday.’