The cereal rattled against the inside of the bowl as Bill Knight poured it from the box before adding milk.
‘Here you go, sweetheart,’ he said, passing the bowl to his daughter, Wendy. ‘Michael, have you got your bag packed?’
‘I’m doing it now,’ came the ever-so-slightly stroppy reply from the living room. Bill decided it was best to let it slide. Sometimes you had to pick your battles.
He’d always tried to make the morning rituals as routine as he could, but it wasn’t always possible — not with his work patterns at the moment. Putting family first was important to Bill, but unfortunately he was the only one who thought so. To everyone else, being a murder detective with Mildenheath CID was the pinnacle of his achievements. He guessed some people had different priorities to him.
If he was honest with himself, he’d have to say it was just a job. Sure, he liked what he did and he got a lot of value from it, but as far as he was concerned there were far more important things in life. Things like family.
As he put two slices of bread in the toaster for his own breakfast, he caught the familiar sight of his wife, Sue, out of the corner of his eye. She was standing in the kitchen doorway with her arms folded, her fluffy white dressing gown covering her body as she blinked into the lights, her tousled hair a remnant of a good night’s kip.
‘Morning. Sleep well?’
‘Yes, thanks. There’s no need for you to do all this, Bill. You’ve got enough on your plate.’
‘Nonsense,’ he replied, smiling. ‘It’s your day off. You deserve a lie-in.’
Sue raised her eyebrows and made a murmuring noise of disapproval. ‘At least I get days off. Maybe you should ask your boss what the word means.’
‘I’ll put a notice in the paper,’ Bill replied, winking at her. ‘Dear criminals: Please stop murdering people. Lots of love, Detective Inspector Knight.’
Sue moved closer to him and whispered. ‘Don’t use that language in front of the kids, Bill. They don’t need to hear things like that.’
Wendy, as astute as ever, soon piped up. ‘Daddy, do lots of people get murdered in Mildenheath?’
‘No,’ her father replied, bending down and placing a hand on her shoulder. ‘No, they don’t. It’s just that the investigations take an awful long time. We can be working on the same case for months or years. And we deal with a lot of other stuff, too. And cases from outside of our area. This is a very safe town to live in, alright? Just you remember that.’
‘It’s safe because of you, though, isn’t it, Daddy?’
Bill considered this for a moment. It wasn’t something he’d ever expected to hear from his daughter at such a young age. At the same time, it showed contrasting levels of maturity and naiveté in a way Bill couldn’t quite put his finger on. Wendy was starting to become an inquisitive little soul, and it wouldn’t be long before he’d have to start being honest with her about the world she was being brought up in.
‘I’m just one cog in the machine, sweetheart. Cogs are ten a penny round here.’
Seemingly placated by that, Wendy turned back to eating her cereal and reading her battered old copy of Five on a Treasure Island.
‘I should be home on time tonight,’ Bill told his wife. ‘Unless anything crops up, of course. I was thinking we could open a bottle of wine and watch something on the box.’
Sue smiled at him. ‘That’d be nice. But it’s a Thursday.’
Bill winced. ‘Ah. Yes. Council meeting. Tomorrow, perhaps.’
‘Let’s see what time you get in first,’ she said, the inference being that she was pretty sure he’d be late tomorrow night, as he was most nights.
He didn’t have the heart to tell Sue that she had it easy, that most of his colleagues were home well after eight o’clock in the evening. He certainly wasn’t going to tell her that he’d sacrificed his chances of ever being promoted past Detective Inspector because of his determination to always put his family first. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d been passed over for promotion because there was someone else who put in longer hours or took more overtime. Sure, another promotion would put more money on the table, but life wasn’t all about money. Money can’t buy you happiness, his old mum always used to say.
‘Want me to drop the kids at school on the way?’ he asked, through a mouthful of toast.
‘No, it’s alright. I’ll get dressed and showered and walk them in. Won’t take long. Will do me good to get some fresh air. And I want to pop into the Haltmann Road development, see how they’re getting on building the new doctor’s surgery. I’ve got to report back at the meeting tonight.’
‘Alright. Don’t forget your hard hat,’ Bill replied, kissing his wife and children on the cheek before grabbing his briefcase and heading for the car.