by Cara Hunter
There’s a noise from downstairs now and Sasha quickly leans over and slides the notebook into the pocket of her pink satchel, then sits back against the headboard and picks up her copy of Keats.
‘You OK, Sash?’ asks her mum, pushing the door open, her arms full of ironing.
Sasha looks up. ‘I’m fine, just chillin’ with my homeboy.’
Fiona Blake smiles. ‘Don’t work too hard. You’re allowed to enjoy yourself as well, you know.’
She shunts the laundry on to the top of the chest of drawers and pulls the door to behind her as she leaves. Sasha opens the book again. ‘Awake for ever in a sweet unrest, Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath.’ She sighs. Imagine having someone talk to you like that.
* * *
‘So, you can see why we’re concerned.’
Somer sits back in her chair. The principal of the college hasn’t said a word throughout Somer’s entire account. She’s just sat there, frowning, fidgeting with an elastic band, staring out of the window. Outside, the sky is darkening. It looks like rain and Somer curses to herself. She has no coat, no umbrella and entirely the wrong footwear.
The principal still hasn’t said anything. Somer glances at Quinn, who shrugs.
‘Mrs McKenna?’ she says, raising her voice slightly. ‘Is there anything we ought to be aware of? Do you know if Faith has been having problems with any of her fellow students recently?’
The woman turns to face her. ‘No. Nothing I know of. Faith is very popular with her peer group.’
‘Do you know who might have played this April Fool joke on her? Do any names come to mind?’
Another, deeper frown. ‘I hope you’re not suggesting that one of our students might be responsible for this –’
‘Not at all. But we do know Faith’s family only moved here last summer, so she may not have that many friends outside her college circle.’
McKenna starts fiddling with the elastic band again. Somer’s a hair’s-breadth from leaning over and grabbing it out of her hand.
‘Mrs McKenna? It’s quite urgent –’
The principal turns to her suddenly and leans forward. It’s like a switch has flicked. She’s sharp, attentive, brisk.
‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything about Faith’s personal life or what she does outside the college gates. I can tell you that she is a talented and hard-working student, and I fully expect she will make a great success of her career.’
‘But she does have mates, right?’ Quinn now. ‘You must have some idea who they are.’ His tone is short of sarcasm, but only just.
‘You want to interrogate my students?’ The frown is back.
‘Not interrogate, no,’ says Somer quickly. ‘We were hoping to make it much more informal. Just circulate with the group and get a sense of whether there might be undercurrents – any sense of animosity –’
McKenna raises her eyebrows. ‘In that case, I dare say I can’t stop you. But I would ask you to exercise more discretion than the police are habitually famed for.’
‘Have there been any incidents lately that might make our presence here rather more plausible? Any problems with alcohol?’
‘No.’
‘Or drugs?’
‘Absolutely not.’
Somer senses Quinn’s reaction but doesn’t dare to look at him.
‘OK,’ she says evenly. ‘In that case we’ll just make it something general about personal safety.’
‘Good idea,’ says McKenna crisply. ‘I’ve had two of my female students in here this week already because they thought they were being followed on the Iffley Road. It’s a sad reflection on your constabulary that you see these issues only as a useful smokescreen for something else you evidently consider far more important.’
‘Who the fuck does she think she is?’ mutters Quinn, none too quietly, as they make their way down the stairs five minutes later. ‘Talk about bloody chippy – she’s just the head of a poxy FE college and you’d think she was the sodding Master of Balliol.’
Who is, in fact, a woman. But Somer isn’t about to point that out.
* * *
‘You should change those,’ says Baxter. ‘It’s not a good idea to sit around with wet feet.’
Somer looks down. If her boots aren’t completely ruined after the monsoon that hit just as she and Quinn were crossing the FE college car park, it will be a minor miracle. Her jeans are wet through up to the knees and she’s given up on her hair.
‘Seriously,’ continues Baxter. ‘If you’re harbouring any sort of latent cold virus –’
‘It’s OK,’ she says quickly. ‘Really. I’m more interested in what you’ve found.’
He gives her a look heavy with ‘well don’t come crying to me’, then turns back to his screen.
‘Well, for starters, Faith Appleford does a fashion vlog every couple of weeks or so. You Gotta Have, she calls it.’
Somer smiles. ‘Clever.’
Baxter frowns. ‘Come again?’
‘You know – “You gotta have faith”. Like the George Michael song.’
Baxter is still looking blank.
‘Forget it. Go on.’
‘Right. OK. So she started it last autumn, presumably when her course began. It’s pretty damn professional, actually. Technically, I mean. Here,’ he says, turning to the screen, ‘have a look.’
Posted 18.46 06 February 2018
Headshot, interior, direct to cam
Hi, everyone, welcome to my channel about fashion, beauty and style. Lots of people have been asking me about how I create my own look. Basically how I choose what things to put together. Not just the clothes but bags and shoes and all the rest of it, because we all know the details can really make the difference between looking good and looking great. So that’s what I’m going to be talking about today.
Everyone always tells me they can’t believe that most of the things I wear are just from mainstream stores, but I always tell them it’s not about how much you spend, it’s about being really smart about what you pick.
Full-length view, by clothes rail
I always start with what I call the ‘key piece’. What do I mean by that? Well, it’s easy: the key piece is the thing you build your look around. It might be a fabulous pair of shoes like these [holds up shoes].
Headshot, selection of shoes in foreground
These are my favourites for going out in the evening – they’re from Irregular Choice and they are just gorgeous – fabulous colour and really distinctive with all this lovely silver detailing. And yes, they took up a pretty big chunk of my budget but they’re going to last for ages and they give me a ‘signature look’ for the whole of the rest of the outfit.
Full-length with dress on hanger
OK, so this is what I mean. This dress is from Zara, and I got it a couple of months ago for £39.99. I really like the cut of it and the fabric is quite nice given it’s pretty cheap. It’s basically a standard LBD, though with a bit of a twist with these pleats here at the back.
Full-length, modelling dress and shoes
So now you can see what it looks like on. See – those pleats have a great swing to them when you move. And when you add the shoes you can see it’s really starting to come together. The silver on the shoes picks up the silver bits on the neckline, and makes the whole thing look way more classy. And if there’s one thing that never goes out of fashion, it’s class.
Full-length, modelling dress, shoes and accessories
And finally accessories. You’ve heard me say this a lot, I know, but this is so important. I really love this bag – I got it from ASOS and I’ve had it ages. I specially love these tassels, and the strap can be detached if you want to use it as a clutch. The earrings are from Accessorize and they’re tassels too. Cool, right? And as you probably know, when it comes to jewellery I think less really is more, which is why I haven’t put a necklace with this look – with the silver on the neckline, a necklace as well would be too much and probably look
a bit blingy, you know?
Headshot, as per opening sequence
So, that’s it for today. Hope you liked this video, and next time I’ll show you how I did the make-up I wore today. And if you haven’t already, do please subscribe to my channel.
This is Faith, signing off the same way I always do: Look good, be kind and love who you are.
‘See what I mean?’ says Baxter as he presses pause.
Somer nods; and it’s not just the technical presentation she’s impressed with. This girl has more poise than most people twice her age. ‘What about her more personal stuff? Social media? Friends – boyfriends? Frenemies?’
Baxter shakes his head. ‘No bloke that I can find. She does a lot on Instagram but it’s all just snazzy pictures and hundreds of bloody hashtags.’
Somer smiles to herself at the thought of Baxter staring at shot after shot of on-trend shoes and brow tattoo products. She can’t even remember the last time she heard anyone use the word ‘snazzy’.
Meanwhile Baxter is still talking. ‘But she doesn’t appear to be on Twitter at all and the Facebook account has barely been used. Seems she’s more into broadcast than dialogue.’
Somer nods. ‘That’s the impression we got at the college too. Everyone knows her but no one knows her very well. One of the girls described her as “nice but really really private”. I just can’t see her pissing anyone off enough for them to play a joke on her – especially one as elaborate and cruel as that.’
Baxter’s face is grave. ‘If it actually was just a joke. Sounded a lot worse than that to me.’
Somer nods. ‘I know.’
‘But if it really was a sexual assault, why the hell won’t she report it?’
Somer sighs. ‘She wouldn’t be the first. Not by a long way.’
They sit there a moment, staring at the girl’s face on the screen. Faith is frozen mid-smile, confident, happy, self-assured. She’s barely recognizable as the girl Somer saw earlier.
‘There was one thing I found a bit odd,’ says Baxter eventually.
‘Oh yes?’
‘All Faith’s social media – the Instagram, the Facebook account – none of it goes back further than last year.’
Somer glances across at him. ‘Nothing before that? Couldn’t she just have deleted the old ones and started again?’
Baxter shakes his head. ‘I don’t think so. I can’t find anything.’
Somer frowns; this doesn’t feel right. ‘And why would she want to do that anyway?’
He shrugs. ‘Search me. But what do I know about teenagers?’
Somer turns back to the screen. The video must have been filmed in Faith’s bedroom. Somer can see the pinboard Ev told her about, and underneath it a white side table with make-up bags and toiletries, and half-a-dozen framed photographs.
‘Can you enlarge those?’ she says suddenly.
Baxter flicks her a quizzical glance but says nothing. He taps the keyboard and the photos fill the screen.
‘It’s just a bunch of old family snaps,’ he says, sitting back again. ‘Faith isn’t even in them.’
But Somer is on the edge of her seat, staring, and when she turns back to Baxter her eyes are bright.
‘Exactly,’ she says. ‘She’s not in them.’
* * *
Sasha is lying on her back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Years ago, when she was little, her mum stuck little silver stars all over it that glow in the dark. And her mum being her mum, she didn’t just stick them up any old how, she did proper constellations – the Great Bear and Cassiopeia and the Pleiades. She got the idea from some TV programme about Grand Central station. Some of the stars have fallen off over the years, and these days Orion has to manage without a head, but Sasha still loves it. She’s promised herself that she’ll go to New York one day and see the real thing. It’s on her list, in the back of her notebook, along with –
Her phone pings and she rolls over and picks it up from the floor. Patsie. A selfie with her poking two fingers towards her mouth, then a photo of a saucepan full of diced carrot.
Sasha types Gross and gets a string of green puking-face emojis in reply.
Are you back in school tomorrow? she writes.
The text pings back at once If I can b arsed. Rather watch the telly. There’s a photo underneath of her feet propped up on a cushion in fluffy slippers. In the background the Jeremy Kyle Show is on the TV. A burly security guard is trying to keep two teenage girls from scratching each other’s eyes out. The subtitle at the bottom says, ‘You slept with my boyfriend and I’m going to prove it!’
Look at those stupid mares, writes Patsie.
Sasha laughs and texts back, WTAF?
There’s a pause then, and Sasha thinks Patsie must have tuned out until suddenly there’s another text. Bloody Lee’s here, it says. Prancing about showing his rancid tits again. There’s another line of puking emojis. I wish Mum would just wake up and dump that loser.
Sasha frowns. You on your own?
Mum shd b back soon.
Don’t know what she sees in that perv, writes Sasha. Sure you’re OK Pats?
There’s a kissing emoji now, then Awww U R the best. I told him to fuck right off. See ya tomorrow babe Xxx.
The stars above Sasha’s head are just starting to glow and she gets up and goes over to close the curtains. There’s a white van parked up on the opposite side of the road. A man is sitting inside, but Sasha can’t see his face.
* * *
‘Do you see what I mean?’ says Somer. ‘Faith’s not in any of these photos, and she wasn’t in any of the ones I saw in the Applefords’ sitting room either.’
Baxter is frowning. ‘So?’
‘There were a couple of the mother, and some of a little girl with dark hair, but that’s definitely Nadine, not Faith.’
‘Still not sure what you’re getting at. Perhaps she just doesn’t like pictures of herself. Some people don’t. Especially bloody baby photos. Mine just make me look like Shrek.’
Somer suppresses a smile. ‘But there might be a reason why she doesn’t have any pictures. What if she’s adopted?’
He shrugs. ‘But even if she is, what difference does it make? No one’s going to attack her because of that –’
‘Can you pull up the General Records Office database?’
Baxter gives a heavy sigh but he’s seen that look on Somer’s face before. When she’s in this mood it’s best to just let her get on with it.
He taps the keyboard and a new screen opens. He turns to Somer.
‘So, what do you want to know?’
‘Can we look up Faith’s birth certificate? She’s eighteen so she must have been born in ’99 or 2000.’
Baxter clicks through the search facility, then frowns.
‘What? What is it?’
He points at the screen. ‘That can’t be right. Can it?’
But Somer is nodding. ‘I think it can. In fact, I think it might explain everything.’
* * *
It’s gone 11.00 when Everett gets the email from Somer, telling her what they found. And only because she forgot to turn off the phone before she collapsed into bed. The beep and flash of light has her wide awake and seizing the phone before she’s even conscious she’s doing it. At the end of the bed, the cat stirs and resettles. Everett can feel her heart pounding as she unlocks the phone and peers at the screen. It can’t be good for your health to be jolted bolt upright like this.
Then she lies back down again, staring at a ceiling she can’t see. Her heart is still pounding and, this time, being woken up in the middle of the night has nothing to do with it.
* * *
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?’
‘Wh
at 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 “couldn’t tell us anything” 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.’
