All the Rage (DI Adam Fawley #4) - Cara Hunter Page 0,1

a bright-pink hairslide, with the word TAKEN spelt out in diamanté.

The girl in the window shakes her head again. ‘What did I do to deserve you two, eh?’

She ducks back inside and a moment later there’s the sound of the entryphone buzzing, and the two girls stumble over the step into the house, still giggling.

The man opens the glovebox. That bitch is lucky he isn’t going to do her right here and now; that’d put paid to their trashy little tart fest. But he won’t. He wants the exhilaration of waiting – still wants it, even now. The exquisite anticipation, the detail by detail: how she’ll smell, how she’ll taste, the feel of her hair. Just knowing he could have that whenever he chooses – that the only thing preventing him is his own restraint –

He sits a while, clenching and unclenching his fists, allowing his heart rate to slow. Then he puts the key in the ignition and starts the engine.

The alarm goes at seven but Faith Appleford has already been up for an hour. Hair, clothes, shoes, make-up, it all takes time. She’s sitting at her dressing table now, putting the finishing touches to her mascara, hearing her mother calling up the stairs from the kitchen.

‘Nadine – are you out of bed yet? If you want that lift you need to be down here in ten minutes.’

There’s a groan from next door and Faith imagines her sister turning over and pulling the pillow over her head. It’s always the same; Nadine is hopeless in the mornings. Unlike Faith. Faith is always ready in plenty of time. Always perfectly turned out. She turns back to the mirror and moves her head right and left, checking the angles, tweaking a lock of hair, straightening the neckline of her sweater. Beautiful. And it’s not just showing off. She really is. Quite beautiful.

She gets to her feet and selects a handbag from the cluster hanging on the back of the door. It’s suede. Well, not real suede but you have to get up really close to realize. The colour is just right though, especially with this jacket. The perfect shade of blue.

* * *

Adam Fawley

1 April 2018

09.15

‘Is that OK – not too cold?’

I felt Alex flinch as the probe touched her skin but she shakes her head quickly and smiles. ‘No, it’s fine.’

The nurse turns back to her monitor and taps her keyboard. Everything in the room is muted. The lights dimmed, the sound muffled, as if we’re underwater. Around us, the hospital is brisk with activity, but in here, right now, time has slowed to a heartbeat.

‘Here you are,’ says the nurse at last, swinging the monitor round and smiling at us. The image on the screen blooms into life. A head, a nose, a tiny fist, raised as if in celebration. Movement. Life. Alex’s hand gropes for mine but her eyes never leave her child.

‘This is the first time for you, isn’t it, Mr Fawley?’ continues the nurse. ‘I don’t think you were here for the first scan?’ She keeps her tone light but there’s judgement in there all the same.

‘It was complicated,’ says Alex quickly. ‘I was so terrified something would go wrong – I didn’t want to jinx it –’

I tighten my grip on her hand. We’ve been through this. Why she didn’t tell me, why she couldn’t even live with me until she knew for certain. Until she was sure.

‘It’s fine,’ I say. ‘All that matters is that I’m here now. And that the baby is OK.’

‘Well, the heartbeat is good and strong,’ the nurse says, tapping at her keyboard again. ‘And the baby is growing normally, exactly as it should be at twenty-two weeks. There’s nothing here that gives me any cause for concern.’

I feel myself exhale – I didn’t even realize I’d stopped breathing. We’re older parents, we’ve read all the leaflets, had all the tests, but still –

‘You’re absolutely sure?’ says Alex. ‘Because I really don’t want to have an amnio –’

The nurse smiles again, a deeper, warmer smile. ‘It’s all absolutely fine, Mrs Fawley. You have nothing at all to worry about.’

Alex turns to me, tears in her eyes. ‘It’s all right,’ she whispers. ‘It really is going to be all right.’

On the screen the baby somersaults suddenly, a tiny dolphin in the silvery darkness.

‘So,’ says the nurse, adjusting the probe again, ‘do you want to know the sex?’

* * *

Fiona Blake puts a bowl of cereal down in front of her daughter,