Thicker Than Water by Anthea Fraser

him at the gate, flushed and bright-eyed.
    ‘Are you OK, Callum?’ Elaine asked, as she steered her son on to the passenger seat and handed him his seat belt. ‘You look rather pale.’
    ‘Bit of a headache, that’s all,’ he said. ‘The fresh air should clear it.’
    ‘What time do we expect you back?’
    ‘Things usually start to wind down about three o’clock. We should be back by four, or soon after.’
    She nodded. ‘Have a good time, then. And you, young man, behave yourself, and do everything Callum tells you.’
    ‘Yes, Mum,’ Josh drawled in bored tones.
    She lifted her hand in a wave as Callum pulled away, and as he turned the corner, he could see her in the rear-view mirror, hand still raised.
    ‘Will the pillion rides be before or after the parade?’ Josh asked eagerly.
    ‘After. According to the programme, the fair itself opens at ten, with stalls, hot dogs, coconut shies, et cetera. Then at eleven the motorbikes ride in convoy through the village and into one of the fields, where they’ll give a display of some fancy riding and stunts.’
    ‘And then we can have a go?’
    Callum smiled. ‘You can. Count me out of that.’
    ‘I asked Dad how soon I could have a motorbike, and he said never!’
    ‘Well, you might be able to talk him round when you’re eighteen. On the other hand, by then you could be more interested in cars. A lot safer, I’d say.’
    ‘Safer!’ Josh repeated with derision.
    As they drew nearer to Fenby, the narrow country road became more congested, until they were driving bumper to bumper in a stream of traffic converging on the village. The sun was warm through the glass and glinted blindingly on the rear window of the car in front, scarcely dulled by his sunglasses. Callum’s head set up a steady thrumming. It was going to be a long day.
    As they reached the front of the queue of traffic, a steward waved them into a field that was providing a temporary car park, and another guided them into the requisite slot. Looking about him, Callum was unsurprised to note that the crowd streaming towards the village was almost exclusively male – fathers, sons and grandsons, most of them attired, like themselves, in jeans, trainers and padded jackets, eagerly anticipating a day spent admiring what Judy referred to as ‘boys’ toys’.
    Even from this distance, blaring music reached them, amplified by loudspeakers positioned around the village. Every now and then it ceased mid-tune, to give way to a raucous voice reminding everyone of the timing of main events, and extolling the goods on offer at the stalls. There was also a tombola, they were informed, and a raffle with ‘stupendous prizes’.
    Josh had already set off towards the gate, and Callum hurried to catch up with him, joining the moving throng streaming towards the village.
    ‘Keep close to me,’ Callum advised the boy as they entered the main street. ‘It’s easy to get separated in this crowd.’
    Josh nodded, but his eyes were everywhere, scouring the stalls and amusements lining the road.
    ‘Can I have a hot dog?’ he asked eagerly, as the scent of frying onions wafted malodorously over them.
    Callum held down a wave of nausea. ‘You’ve only just finished breakfast!’
    ‘That was ages ago!’
    ‘All right.’ He felt in his pocket for cash, but Josh shook his head.
    ‘Dad gave me some money. I’ll use that.’
    He joined the queue by the kiosk and Callum stood waiting, marvelling at the digestive systems of young boys, and wondering how soon he could top up the painkillers he’d taken before leaving home. The music continued to blare overhead, and he was jostled continuously as the crowds surged past, each push seeming to send a hot poker through his head.
    The next forty-five minutes were a rarefied form of torture. Josh moved from stall to stall, his pocket money dwindling. Among a selection of other bric-a-brac, he bought something claiming to be a whale’s tooth, a miniature ship in a bottle,