Work Text:
“I wanna change my name!” announced Annabel Marie Ellacott one Monday morning at breakfast.
“Why, sweetheart?” asked Stephen, his surprise illegible on his face. Jenny, whose eyebrows almost reached her hairline, just stared at them, her coffee mug halfway to her mouth.
“It’s bo-ring!” articulated Annabel. “Do you know how many people have a name that starts with an A? And did you know—”
Stephen rolled his eyes mentally. This dramatic “did you knowww…?” had lately become his 7-year-old’s most favourite phrase, as she kept learning new things every few days. Most of them were new only to her, but sometimes Stephen and Jenny could only guess where and how Annabel could acquire some very specific knowledge.
“— did you know that if you need to come up with a fake name on the spot, most people will choose a name that starts with an A?”
Jenny and Stephen exchanged glances.
“And if I need to use a fake name, I can’t make it so similar to my real name, because people will guess!”
“Sunshine, why exactly would you need a fake name?” Jenny asked cautiously.
“…anyway, it really doesn’t sound, ‘Annabel Ellacott, private detective’. It’s too long. Annabel M. Ellacott? Even longer. A. M. Ellacott? Then they won’t know I’m a woman! And—”
Here we go, thought Stephen.
“Annie, what is it about? What private detective?”
“Oh, I can’t tell you. It’s a sekrit.”
“I see you’ve enjoyed your weekend with Auntie Robin and Uncle Cormoran,” Stephen said.
“Oh YES!” said Annabel. “We went to the theatre, and we had ice-cream, and Jack bought me a real unicorn! And we decided that when we are older, we’ll open our own detective agency.”
“Oh,” said Jenny.
“It’s gonna be sooo exciting! We’re gonna spy on bad people, and catch criminals, and be so famous, just like Auntie Robin and Uncle Cormoran. And when they are really-really old, like two hundred years old, we will take over their agency, Jack and me! And we’ll get married, just like them… oops, this was the real sekrit. Don’t tell anyone, okay? Not even Jack, I haven’t told him I’m gonna marry him yet.”
Stephen and Jenny tried their best not to laugh, though there was a strange kind of unease deep in Stephen’s heart.
“Jack is ten years older than you,” he reminded.
“Exactly! Just like Auntie Robin and Uncle Cormoran! I planned ev-ry-thing! So as soon as I’m 18, I go and change my name, and—”
Hi Robs, give me a call when you have time pls. Love Sx, Stephen typed on his mobile.
*
Robin woke up with a sense of relief. Having spent three days in the company of two teenagers and a schoolgirl, she had almost forgotten that mornings can be quiet. The morning silence was interrupted only by Strike’s soft snoring by her side, but she didn’t find it disturbing. She adored this sound. It soothed her; it signified that she was not alone, no longer alone in this world, forever not alone.
They had this morning off, and she sat up in her pillows, scrolling the news lazily, waiting for her husband to wake up. He promised he’d make her breakfast and let her relax after three days of fussing around Jack, Adam and Annabel, of whom only the former did not turn their routine into madness.
Her phone vibrated, and Stephen’s message popped on the screen. Robin frowned. Was something wrong with Annie? She seemed especially excited when her parents picked her up on Sunday evening. Perplexed, Robin got out of bed, threw on her dressing gown and went to the kitchen, where she could talk out loud without disturbing Strike.
Stephen answered on the second ring.
“You know, Robs, Annie was saying funny things at breakfast—I thought you could know where she could pick it up.”
“What sort of—?”
“She told us she wants to be a private detective, like you and Cormoran. She sounds really specific, as if someone told her what your everyday job is about. You didn’t take her to your office, did you?”
“No, of course not. We were at home most of the time.”
“And you didn’t take her on surveillance, of course?”
Robin laughed.
“We might be terrible aunt and uncle, but not this terrible, Button. Cormoran and Jack took her to see a play, while Adam helped me with laundry and cooking. He said that theatre is stupid, and that he saw that play a million times and hated it, so they went without him.”
“Annie seems to be quite fascinated by Jack.”
“Don’t we all, Button!”
“No, she says she’s going to marry him when she’s 18. That’s probably the sanest thing she said over the entire breakfast.”
Robin chuckled again. Then a thought occurred to her.
“Button, I’ll call you back. Just need to check something.”
*
“Who was this funny man?” Annabel asked, face half-hidden by her portion of ice-cream. They were walking in the park; the sun was still high up, and they had about two hours until the start of the second part of their play. A couple of minutes prior, Sam Barclay with his family bumped into them, and they had to catch up on Sam’s progress in one of their current cases.
“His name is Sam, we work together,” explained Strike.
“And why does he talk like this?”
“He’s from Scotland.”
“Uncle Cormoran, what is a ‘sur-vey-lens’?”
“It’s what we do at work.”
“But what issit?”
While Strike contemplated the appropriate answer, Jack came to rescue. He took Annabel by the hand that was not holding the ice-cream.
“Come on, Annie, let’s take a walk, and I’ll tell you. I think Uncle Corm needs to rest his magic leg, don’t you, Uncle Corm?” He nodded to the closest bench. “We’ll be right back.”
Ten minutes later, they re-emerged, ice-cream now in Jack’s hand, and Annabel jumping with excitement. She was clutching a rainbow-coloured plush unicorn with enormous plastic eyes. For a second, it had seemed to Strike that he was looking at a much younger version of himself and Robin: Annabel had just the same strawberry blond hair and blue eyes as her aunt, and Jack was becoming a spit image of uncle Ted and, in a way, of Strike himself. There are also ten years between them, he thought suddenly, before reminding himself that at 7 and 17, respectively, the age gap feels much bigger than at 36 and 46, and that Jack and Annabel were basically like an elder brother and a younger sister.
“Uncle Cormoran, Jack told me you’re a superhero and catch bad villains!”
“Well, I don’t know any good villains in the first place,” said Strike. “And no, I’m just a detective who does his work quite well.”
Annabel jumped once again and said nothing. Strike exchanged glances with Jack; Jack shrugged with a smile.
*
“Bloody hell, Strike,” said Robin after he finished talking. “Stephen and Jenny will kill us.”
“No, they won’t,” Strike yawned. “Because Lucy will do it first. Jack following in my and Ted’s footsteps is her worst nightmare.”
“Lucy won’t know, and they already do. Stephen doesn’t want his daughter to be mocked for wanting to be a detective, like I was at her age.”
“Well, he has to start with himself, right? Not all kids are such arseholes as your brothers were to you.”
“Says someone who called his nephews, and I quote, a whiny prick and an arsehole, respectively.”
“You’re going to remind me this until my dying day?”
“Sod off.” She sighed. “It would be lovely, though, if she really wanted it and made her dream come true.”
“I think she will,” said Strike. “She has to: it runs in the family.”