All the Rage

Adam Fawley
1 April 2018
23.07

I'm stacking the dishwasher when my mobile goes. Somer. And she doesn't even bother apologizing. And that, take it from me, is not like her at all.

`˜I'm emailing you something, sir. Can you call me when you get it?'

`˜What is it?'

`˜It's a birth certificate. From 1999.'

The line goes dead. And then the phone pings.

`˜Problem?' says Alex, seeing the look on my face.

`˜I'm not sure.'

But I don't like it. And when I see what Somer's sent me I like it even less.

`˜Please tell me this isn't what I think it is.'

I hear Somer sigh. `˜I wish I could.'

`˜And you're sure? There's no chance we got this wrong?'

`˜We double-checked. The Applefords only have one other child. Nadine, born 6th June 2002.'

`˜So Faith isn't their daughter. She's their son.'

`˜That's not how she would see it, sir. I mean, yes, that's what's on the birth certificate, but I think Faith would say she was always a girl inside.'

And, of course, everything now falls into place. Why she didn't want to be examined by a doctor. Why she didn't want to talk to us `“ why she didn't even want to report what had happened to her. Why her mother is being so protective. It may even explain why the Applefords moved here in the first place. It was a fresh start; a chance for Daniel to leave his old identity behind and begin a new life. As a girl.

`˜There's no record of a change of name `“ no application for a Gender Recognition Certificate?'

`˜No, sir.'

`˜So legally speaking, Faith is still Daniel.'

`˜Quite possibly. Which would mean she probably had to apply to the college in that name. I think that's why the principal was so cagey. She told us she `њcouldn't tell us anything`ќ about Faith's personal life. We assumed that meant she didn't know anything, but looking back now, I think she chose that phrase very carefully.'

I take a deep breath. Alex has gone back to the sitting room. I can hear the sounds of the TV, the rain on the glass lantern above my head. I know what I have to do; I'm just not looking forward to doing it.

`˜OK, Somer. Leave it with me. I'll call Harrison and tell him we want to escalate this. To a possible hate crime.'

* * *

***

It's late, but there's no way Somer is getting to sleep any time soon. She picks up her phone and hesitates, wondering if she'll wake him. But she knows he doesn't go to bed early and, right now, she'd really like to hear his voice.

He picks up at the second ring: he wasn't asleep.

`˜Hey, I was hoping you'd call. How's it going?'

`˜The case? Better, I think. We may have made a breakthrough.'

`˜You have `“ or you have?'

She smiles; he's good at that: making her own up to her own achievements. It never comes naturally to her, not even now.

`˜You're not too shabby at this detective lark, are you?'

He laughs; he has a good laugh. `˜Well, I think I may have inside info on this particular suspect.'

She sits back in her chair and draws her feet up under her; she can hear the faint murmur of voices in the background.

`˜You watching TV?' She isn't really interested `“ she just wants to talk. About anything, nothing.

`˜Uh-huh.'

No need to ask what. For a DI with over ten years' experience Giles has an endearing addiction to true crime. TV, books, podcasts, you name it, he does it, as the recordings now racking up in Somer's Sky box testify. And she gets it `“ up to a point. She watched The Staircase with him and it was completely riveting, but Giles runs through the whole range, all the way from serious documentary to things like Wives with Knives and Southern Fried Homicide, which she'd initially assumed had to be spoofs. But as far as Giles is concerned, it's all equally fascinating. `˜Helps me understand why,' he'd said, when she quizzed him. `˜Why, after ten thousand years of human evolution, we're still doing such appallingly shitty things to each other.'

`˜How was your day?'

She can hear him stretch now. `˜OK. Not exactly exciting.'

`˜Have you heard from the girls about the summer?'

Saumarez has two daughters who live with their mother in Vancouver. Somer hasn't met them, but they're due over for the long school holidays. She's been trying not to let the prospect completely freak her out.

`˜Still waiting for confirmation on the flights.'

She tries to think of something to say, but the long day is taking its toll.

`˜It'll be OK,' he says, reading into her silence. `˜Really. They're nice kids. They just want me to be happy.'

And you make me so.

He doesn't say it, but perhaps he doesn't need to.

`˜Can't wait to meet them,' she says, realizing, suddenly, and with a jolt of happy amazement, that she actually means it.

* * *