Lee Weeks - Cold as Ice

Ebony got out of the minicab inside the courtyard. It was five o’clock and already looking like night-time. Her eyes scanned her surroundings as she unloaded her things from the minicab. The wind hit her as it found a channel between the tower blocks and rubbish gathered and swarmed, catching on the buggy’s wheels. When she was a kid she’d moved around with her mum and some of the places had been high-rise. The place took on a sound, a light, an atmosphere all of its own. This was one of the older estates.

‘Do you need me to help you?’ The kindly Somalian driver had a face that belied his kind nature; it was so harshly scarred that one side didn’t match the other.

‘No. I’ll be okay thanks.’ She gathered her things together as he drove away.

Ebony knew that the block in front of her was the right one. She had the slip of paper with the address and the keys from the housing association in an envelope in her pocket. She stood for a few seconds gathering her bags and her thoughts then headed towards the main door of the apartment block. The lift was out of order. She began dragging the buggy up six flights of stairs. She bounced it up the first two flights of stairs and then carried it up the remaining four. The pretend Archie doll was safely wrapped away inside her backpack. If anybody had noticed her arrival and the empty buggy she intended to use the ‘aunt’ Carter had suggested, who helped with child-care and who would be bringing Archie later.

Above her was the echo of footsteps on concrete. The noise brought back memories as she climbed upwards. She remembered the sound of kids shouting to one another, running along the walkways that joined the buildings. She hadn’t reckoned on feeling a mixture of uncomfortable nostalgia. She was used to arriving with Carter or another detective to an estate. It was so different on her own. She had to remember this wasn’t her life, this was work, just like it was at other times. Only now she was working alone. She walked along the sixth-floor landing, reading the numbers on the doors. She slipped the key in the lock, turned it and stepped into darkness lit only by the orange light from the landing outside. Her phone went. Someone had jammed leaflets under her door; it wouldn’t open fully.

She walked through the lounge and stood at the window, overlooking other tower blocks and the trails of car lights as rush hour continued. She was grateful for the fact that the housing association had been in and her boiler was working. She had heat in the flat. She phoned Tina as she put the kettle on.

‘I’m working away for a bit, Teen. You can leave me a message on this phone and I’ll be in contact when I can.’

‘Will I see you in work?’

‘No. I don’t think so. Not for a little while anyway. I’m doing a Family Liaison Course out on the North Circular. I’m staying in a motel there.’

‘Is it nice?’

Ebony looked around her. ‘No expense spared. But I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

‘Okay, but I can tell what you’re really saying and it sounds like it’s pants. Well if you need me, Ebb, you call, and stay safe. Wrap up warm. By the way – I think I’ve got a date for Saturday.’

‘Who with?’

‘The one I told you about. That good-looking inspector that’s in MIT 15.’

‘I know the one – you said he always has hot chocolate?’

‘That’s the one. Looks like the Hoff.’

‘He’s married, Teen.’

‘No way.’

‘Zoe told me. He tells everyone he’s separated; everyone except his wife.’

‘Oh God,’ moaned Tina. ‘I knew it was too good to be true. Dan Carter asked me to babysit. I may as well then if my hot date just went up in smoke.’

‘I have to go. Speak later.’

‘Wait – Ebb? What about ordering a turkey?’

‘Let’s have an M&S Christmas ready-meal.’

‘No feckin’ way. Ebony Willis, you’re the limit. I’ve put you down for making a pudding, and it better be a good one. None of that pre-bought shite.’

‘No problem. I found this recipe on the web. It’s a cake in a mug. It takes five minutes in the microwave. Bye, Teen.’ Ebony could hear Tina choke back the expletives on the other end of the phone. She smiled to herself. Ebony closed her phone and put it to one side. The smile on her face disappeared when she thought about another call she really had to make. Her mother would talk about Christmas again. Could Ebony ask them if her mother could come out for Christmas Day? Could she just ask?’ Ebony rubbed her face with her hands and looked at the phone as if her mother was waiting inside it. She looked at the time – six – it was the time for calls. They ate dinner early. Her mother might be sitting by the phone waiting. Ebony finished making herself tea – strong builder’s tea. She sat on the rolled-out ground mat and sleeping bag that Carter had given her; that would have to do for now. The housing association had done some decorating in the flat – they’d stripped out the carpets and there was hardboard down waiting for the new tenant to afford to lay carpet. She pulled the works laptop next to her, switched it on and then realized she’d delayed long enough; she picked up the phone and dialled the number then held it tightly to her ear. She could visualize her mother sitting by the phone: fretting, tutting, scowling at passers-by. Telling people her daughter always let her down. She got through to the switchboard and was put on hold for ten minutes. Then the operator came back on the line to say:

‘Sorry, it’s not possible to connect you right now. Mrs Willis is not able to take the call.’

‘Is she ill?’

‘Sorry – I don’t have details. Phone back later to speak to someone then.’

Ebony got up and went to the window again. She stared out at the continuing tramlines of orange lights as cars inched their way home. She heard the noise of feet in the flat above her and a television being switched on. Someone was returning to their lonely apartment and needed the noise of television to make it feel like home. Ebony knew what that was like. It had been a massive step for her to move into a shared house with strangers. She’d chosen the room at the top; the furthest away from all of them. Gradually she’d got used to the sounds of them coming and going. Slowly she’d got used to the way she could differentiate between one person’s tread or another’s on the steps outside leading to the house. She knew who was coming home. She’d felt reassurance in the knowledge that she was in a house with people and yet they didn’t require her to socialize; she’d spent her childhood dreading the sound of her mother’s steps outside the door. She felt safer when she was far away. Her mother had never visited her unless the authorities were building up to sending Ebony home. Then her mother was required to look like she wanted Ebony back and could cope. But Ebony always knew there was an ulterior motive for having her home. If it wasn’t money in the form of benefits then it was accommodation. Sometimes it was just that her mother had run out of attention. What Ebony had never reckoned on was that she would feel secure enough in the shared house to let her guard down and care a lot for another human being. She’d made the mistake once when she was in a care home and Micky had become her best friend. She still dreamt of Micky. Still her heart ached when she awoke to find that she wasn’t still friends with him. She had no idea what had happened to him after the scandal at the care home after she left; she thought he must have been one of those abused because he had been unlucky all his life. He once said to Ebony that he counted her friendship as the only piece of good luck he’d ever had. When she dreamt of him she woke up happy just to hear his voice again but then the sadness of losing him kicked in. When she’d heard Tina moving around in the room beneath her she felt comforted. Tina was a great friend. Tina had eaten into Ebony’s heart and Ebony was grateful for it.