Cold as Ice (Willis/Carter #2)(82)
‘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.
She made herself a Pot Noodle and came back to the makeshift bed to sit and eat it. Then she remembered the doll was still in the bag and the buggy by the front door. She wheeled it into the bedroom just in case someone should knock, not that she had any intention of making friends with the neighbours – that wasn’t in the brief. Head down, low profile, was what she needed. She got the doll out of the bag and strapped it into the buggy. She wheeled it into the bedroom and closed the door to keep the cold out and the heat in the lounge. She wouldn’t be sleeping in the bedroom. She preferred just to use one room. She’d stay in the lounge for now. Besides, the sleeping bag was also the sofa. She settled down onto her bed and saw Robbo’s avatar flashing on her screen. It was a Stan Hardy lookalike: a fat guy with glasses.
Ebony typed:
‘You managed to find an avatar that looks like you?’
‘Ha ha. You ok?’
‘I’m good’.
There was a pause. She could see the speech bubble on the screen that meant Robbo was writing but kept stopping. Whatever it was he wanted to say he wanted to choose his words wisely. He settled on:
‘How’s life in the vertical world?’
She smiled to herself. What had he crossed out? She could visualize him at his desk. He would have his leopardprint wrap around his cafetière and he would have his packet of Haribo.