All the Rage (DI Adam Fawley #4) - Cara Hunter Page 0,2

but Sasha doesn’t appear to notice. She’s been staring at her phone ever since she came downstairs, and Fiona is fighting the urge to say something. They don’t have phones at meals in their house. Not because Fiona laid down the law about it but because they agreed, the two of them, that it wasn’t how they wanted to do things. She turns away to fill the teapot but when she gets back to the table Sasha is still staring at the damn screen.

‘Problem?’ she says, trying not to sound irritated.

Sasha looks up and shakes her head. ‘Sorry – it’s just Pats saying she won’t be at school today. She’s been throwing up all night.’

Fiona makes a face. ‘That winter vomiting thing?’

Sasha nods, then pushes the phone away. ‘Sounds like it. She sounds really rough.’

Fiona scrutinizes her daughter; her eyes are bright and her cheeks look a little flushed. Come to think of it, she’s been rather like that all week. ‘You feeling all right, Sash? You look like you might be a bit feverish yourself.’

Sasha’s eyes widen. ‘Me? I’m fine. Seriously, Mum, I’m absolutely OK. And completely starving.’

She grins at her mother and reaches across the table for a spoon.

* * *

At St Aldate’s police station, DC Anthony Asante is trying to smile. Though the look on DS Gislingham’s face suggests he isn’t doing a very good job of it. It’s not that Asante doesn’t have a sense of humour, it’s just not the custard pie and banana skin variety. Which is why he’s struggling to find the upside-down glass of water on his desk very amusing. That and the fact that he’s furious with himself for forgetting what day it is and not being more bloody careful. He should have seen this coming a mile off: newest member of the team, graduate entry, fresh from the Met. He might as well have had ‘Fair Game’ tattooed across his forehead. And now they’re all standing there, watching him, waiting to see if he’s a ‘good sport’ or just ‘well up himself’ (which judging from the smirk DC Quinn isn’t bothering to hide is clearly his opinion – though Asante’s tempted to ask if Quinn’s playing the role of pot or kettle on that one). He takes a deep breath and cranks the smile up a notch. After all, it could have been worse. One of the shits at Brixton nick left a bunch of bananas on his desk the day he first started.

‘OK, guys,’ he says, looking round at the room, in what he hopes is the right combination of heavy irony and seen-it-all-before, ‘very funny.’

Gislingham grins at him, as much relieved as anything. After all, a joke’s a joke and in this job you have to be able to take it as well as dish it out, but he’s still a bit new to the whole sergeantship thing and he doesn’t want to be seen as picking on anyone. Least of all the only non-white member of the team. He cuffs Asante lightly on the arm, saying, ‘Nice one, Tone,’ then decides he’s probably best off leaving it at that and makes for the coffee machine.

* * *

Adam Fawley

1 April 2018

10.25

‘So how’s this going to work then?’

Alex settles herself slowly into the sofa and swings her feet up. I hand her the mug and she curls her hands around it. ‘How’s what going to work?’ she says, though she’s already looking mischievous.

‘You know exactly what I mean – the small fact that I don’t know the sex, but you do.’

She blows on the tea and then looks up at me, all innocence. ‘Why should it be a problem?’

I shunt a cushion aside and sit down. ‘How are you going to keep a secret like that? You’re bound to let it slip eventually.’

She grins. ‘Well, as long as you don’t employ that infamous interviewing technique of yours, I think I’ll just about manage to keep it to myself.’ She laughs now, seeing my face. ‘Look, I promise to keep thinking of two lists of names –’

‘OK, but –’

‘And not buy everything in blue.’

Before I can even open my mouth she grins again and prods me with her foot. ‘Or pink.’

I shake my head, all faux-disapproval. ‘I give up.’

‘No, you don’t,’ she says, serious now. ‘You never give up. Not on anything.’

And we both know she’s not just talking about my job.

I get to my feet. ‘Take it easy the rest of the day, all right? No heavy lifting or