by Billy London
Eva grinned and happily ate everything that was brought to her room. She had a long calming shower, and winced that she had to put the jogging suit back on. She checked out and walked back to the flat. She stayed outside to call her sister at the time she had specified.
“Your boyfriend is lucky I was already awake. He was about to die.”
Eva ignored the reference to Gabriel following through on what he had promised. “Weird things are happening at my flat.”
“Weird how?”
“Weird as in The Exorcist weird. Witches of Eastwick weird sex dreams weird.”
Jo sounded like she was having a choking fit. “Don't bring that around my children! You know what, you need desensitization. You've been buried in the parental bosom for too long. I'll come to your place about seven. You just need to be eased into living by yourself again. Then your boyfriend can come back and bang some sense into you.”
“Jocelyn!”
She managed to stay outside for a good eight hours in a variety of cafés, eventually sitting in the National Gallery for at least three sketching the Renaissance section in charcoal, despite feeling financially violated by the gift shop.
Jo called her. “I'm two minutes away in a taxi. Do I need to pick you up? I have shit loads of wine from Waitrose.”
“You are awesome, thank you.”
The taxi stopped outside the Gallery then sped toward Eva's apartments. Jo firmly took the key and let her in. “I don't know why you're freaking out, I would love to have some space.”
“Not this sort of space,” Eva murmured.
Jo shrugged and picked up Eva's phone. “We're ordering in. Matthew does all the cooking at home.”
How different the atmosphere was in the flat with her sister's cynicisms. Two huge bags of Indian food arrived twenty-five minutes later, and they both tucked in along with the bottle of wine. Eva felt more relaxed than she had in a long time. She even felt comfortable enough to take one of Michael's portraits and start painting over the pencil. She should speak to him. Maybe in an open space when he wasn't about to throw some moves on her. Where the hell had that even come from? They had spent the day together, but hadn't she name-dropped Gabriel enough to make herself clear? She really did need the cattle branding.
Jo upturned the third bottle of wine. “Who drank all of this?”
Eva glanced at her over her canvas. “You did, you lush.”
“Shurrup. You have no idea what it's like. I feel like I haven't stopped in five years. Don't get me wrong, I love my babies, I kind of like my husband. But I am so glad to be away from them!”
Eva used turpentine to wipe down the brushes. She had Michael's face in close-up taking up the entirety of the twenty-by-ten. She wasn't quite sure where to go with it, but it didn't feel finished at all.
“Why are you painting hot photographer?” Jo demanded. “Won't your boyfriend be mad?”
“Gabriel is not my boyfriend. And even if he was, he does not dictate my artistic flow.”
Jo burped. “You are so going to regret saying that. Fuck, can I just stay here? If I go home and turn on a light, I'll set my house on fire.”
Eva burst out laughing. “At least go and clean your teeth. I'll call Matt and let him know you're staying put.”
“Don't tell him I'm drunk!”
“Good god, that man barely understands that you gave birth, let alone that you've touched alcohol.” She speed-dialed the landline and spoke briefly to her brother-in-law.
“Is she okay?” Matthew asked.
“Yeah, she's fine. Just tired.”
“She works too hard. Try and convince her to take a career break. Like you.”
You wanker. “My art is my career,” she replied stiffly. “I work very hard at it, Matthew, and I've been successful.”
“Oh no, that's not what I...”
“Not bothered, mate. You're going to have to cope with the nanny tomorrow morning coz Jo will just go straight to work.”
“Well I...”
“Bye, Matthew.” She ended the call. “Prick.”
Jo emerged from the bathroom, sucking at a toothbrush. “Are you calling my husband a prick?”
“He is a prick,” Eva said bluntly. “He just called my art a 'career break.'”
Jo rolled her eyes. “Words fall out of his mouth. He can't help it. It's a brain synapses thing.”
“It's a personality thing.”
“You've never really liked him.” Jo frowned, removing the toothbrush and pouting. “He's tried so hard with you.”
“I can count the number of times on one hand he's initiated a conversation with me. Woman, let's not talk about your husband. Or I will be putting you in a cab.”
Jo stuck her tongue out. “Meanie. Just coz you're not married.”
“I would rather be subjected to female genital mutilation than be married to your husband.”
Jo threw a cushion at her head. “That's so fucking out of order!”
Eva breathed out, “Go to bed. You'll remember you're an adult when you wake up.”
Jo slammed the bedroom door on her way.
Having her sister around wasn't helping with the feelings of regression. Eva's mouth twisted at Michael's portrait. Hidden depths. She took a watercolor in white and a small roller and completed a wash over of the detailed work she had painted, recalling every wrinkle, freckle and distortion. Now he looked like he was being seen by a glaucoma patient. Sorry Nana, she thought, hoping God would pass on the mental apology to her late grandmother. With the same palette of watercolors she started painting an echo of the same face, just a few millimeters to the left.
“Michael in 3D,” she murmured to herself. She took her headphones and scrolled through her iPod until she landed on one of Gabriel's albums. Obsessively didn't come close to describing just how much she'd played his music before she'd met Richard. Every minute of his songs was haunted by every fantasy she'd had of running into him in New York and him going on bended knee for letting her out of his sight. She put on his most popular song, “Push,” which was all dirty New Orleans, hot, sweaty blues riffs that were all sex to the core.
She packed up her brushes and put the canvas on an easel to dry. The lights were switched off and the front door was bolted shut. A tension seeped into her shoulders, listening to her own space close in on her. Shaking off the sensation, she was brought firmly back to earth by a loud fart from her sister. Laughing, she tugged on shorts and a tank top and slipped into bed beside Jo.
“Sorry!” her sister mumbled. “Love you, really.”
“Go to sleep, you windbag. I've set the alarm for you. Is seven a.m. okay?”
Jo groaned. “I haven't got people to feed and dress. Make it seven fifteen.”
Eva leaned over and adjusted the alarm. “Do you have something to go to work in?”
“Got spare suits in the office.”
Eva made a face in the dark. Of course you do, you robot.
“I'm not a robot,” Jo murmured, then immediately started to snore. Good lord, she’d forgotten her sister did that.
Eva watched the darkened ceiling for a moment, then leaned over to fumble in the dark for her bracelet. The gold pick comb caught painfully under her nail. There we are. She traced each charm in turn. It was such a beautiful gift, and she would need to wear it more often. Tucking it into her bag would at least mean that she would find it and be reminded to put it on. Gabriel's voice rasped in her ear, That girl pushin' me to bad thangs...
Stop it, your sister is in the bed with you, she warned herself, turning onto her side, and willed herself to think of something boring. Ah, Newsnight. Gotcha.
Chapter Seven
The thunderous bang reverberated throughout the room. Eva scrambled from underneath the folds of the sheets. She snapped on the light and saw Jo clinging to the edges. “Please tell me you heard that.”
“Please tell me that was just the TV you forgot to turn off.”
“I turned everything off,” Eva whispere
d. She checked the time. 2:56 a.m.
“Aren't you going to check what's going on?” Jo hissed.
“Me?” Eva squeaked. “You're the mum!”
“Yes, I have children, therefore it's important I live. Go on!”
Eva dragged open the bedside drawer and fumbled inside her jewelry box. The silver crucifix her grandmother had given her on confirmation sparkled in the light. She clipped it on and swung her feet onto the floor. The bang sounded again. It was like the whole building was shaking. Eva put her feet back on the bed.
“I don't want to go out there!”
Jo crossed herself. “This is what happens when you do the opposite of what Mum and Dad say.”
“Come with me!” Eva begged.
Jo pushed Eva first and firmly hid behind her sister's back. “Stop shaking!” Jo insisted. “I can't see anything.”
Eva slapped on all the lights. “Is it coming from upstairs?”
“I don't know, it sounded like it was coming from everywhere!” Jo pushed Eva forward. “Upstairs.”
They both glanced up at the ceiling and Eva lost her breath. A large blackened crack ran from one corner of her flat across to the other. What the hell did that!
“No fucking way, man.”
Jo gave her a sharp slap on the arm. “Naughty!”
They both screamed as a series of knocks sounded on the door. Eva thought she was going to throw up. Jo urged her again toward the door.
She checked the peephole. Some random woman was swaying slightly on the spot on the other side of the door. Eva cautiously pulled the door open. “Can I help you?”
The girl's pupils were huge, her face a graying color. “Does Michael live here?”
Eva frowned. Is this silly bitch having a laugh? “No, he lives one floor up.”
The girl nodded. “All the lights went. The lift's not working.”
“Are you okay?” Eva asked. The girl went sideways on a four-inch spiked heel, her Lycra dress inching upwards on near skeletal legs.
“Just a bit cold. Forgot my coat.” She gave a wavering smile.
Eva beckoned her inside. “Come in. I'll get Michael.”
She brushed past Eva and Eva bit back a wince. She brought in freezing cold air with her. Eva poked her head out and looked into the corridor. Only the light from her own flat lit the darkness.
“What are you doing?” Jo hissed. “Leave her outside! Have you never watched one of those films? Leave the skanky white girl to get killed.”
“Jocelyn Mensah Neeson, shush. Stay here.”
She went into the kitchen and hunted for the flashlight she swore she'd bought. All she could find was a candle. Very Victorian. She stood at the front door. Her hands were shaking so much she could barely manage to light the candle. “What's your name?” she asked the girl, who was sitting despondently on Eva's sofa.
“Lacey.”
Eva turned to Jo. “Don't shut the door. Leave it open, I'll be back in a few minutes.”
“Take your mobile.”
“There's never any reception in the corridor. I'll leg it.”
Jo shook her head. “This is crazy. Just call him!”
“I don't have his number. I didn't think I needed it.”
“This will fucking show you!”
Eva lit the candle and stepped into the corridor. The candle extinguished. Okay. That’s fine. It’s not an unseen force telling you to stay at home. She lit it again and held it out in front of her. Candles are pointless, she thought. There were shadows everywhere. She swore she could see things moving from the corner of her eyes. Her heart was skipping every other beat. She put her back against the wall and edged up the stairs. Another thump seemed to shake the stairwell, and she fumbled with the candle. It slipped from her grasp and she heard it falling to the ground floor.
Oh hell. She took several hesitant breaths in the darkness, then ran to Michael's door and pounded on the wood.
“Who is it?”
“Michael, it's Eva.”
He opened the door, embarrassed that re-buttoning his jeans didn't stop her from seeing his semi-erection. “What's wrong?”
“There's a girl downstairs asking for you. She looks pretty bad.”
Michael cleared his throat, which she took as permission to look again. “What?”
“Her name is Lacey. She looks damaged or something, but she's asking for you. She came knocking at my door, the lift isn't working, so you need to come and get her.”
A brunette appeared over Michael's shoulder. “What's going on?”
Michael looked at Eva, his eyes wary. “Lacey's got problems.”
Eva tried to rein in her temper. Why did she need to deal with some druggie ex of his because he didn't do the exit talk with them? “Well, I'm guessing one of her problems was your penis, so please come and deal with her.”
The brunette bristled at Eva's tone. “Michael, just leave her where she is.” Blood-red nails clawed over Michael's bare torso, leaving angry welts in their wake. “Come back and look after me.”
Michael took in a breath and sighed. “Let me get my shirt.” He partly closed the door and Eva heard the end of their argument.
“I don't give a shit about some bitch you've been fucking, and I don't like that you're running because that other little bitch has clicked her fingers.”
Oh no, woman, don't start with me. Eva was about to throw open his door and slap some sense into that brunette when Michael returned stuffing keys into his pocket. “I'll be back.”
He shut the door and went down the stairs first, Eva's arm underneath his fingers.
“What did she say?” he asked as they careened along the stairwell.
“That she was looking for you. She's barely dressed and she looks like she's on something serious.”
“Lacey's got drug problems.”
“Naturally,” Eva muttered.
Michael came to a grinding halt. “What's that supposed to mean?”
She could just about see his face in the darkness. “Model, tall, skinny. Drugs seem to be the inevitable end to that statement.”
His fingers tightened on her arm for a moment, then he carried on until they reached her flat.
When Michael pushed open the door, Lacey got to her feet and threw herself on him. “Baby!” she purred. “I knew you'd come for me.”
Jo invaded Eva's side. “This bitch is wired to freaking hell. She keeps saying the room is too small.”
“Well Michael can get rid of her,” Eva said shortly, pissed that she'd been woken up by this nonsense. Maybe Gabriel was right and she should just stay the hell away from Michael.
“No!” Lacey screamed suddenly. “Don't take me home, let me stay with you!”
Michael glanced at Eva and Jo in shame. “I'm sorry. We've got to go.”
Lacey dug her heels into Eva's original oak wood floors.
For fuck's sake. Eva went to catch Lacey's arm. “Time to go, sweetheart.”
Lacey's skin was ice cold to the touch, but as soon as Eva's skin met hers, smoke curled between Eva's fingers. What on earth? Lacey's eyes met hers for a horrified moment before her body started to convulse with a fit.
“Jo, call for an ambulance!”
Eva and Michael laid her on the floor, then edged as much furniture out of the way as possible. Foam was trailing from Lacey's mouth into her hair. Her limbs stopped jerking. Then Lacey opened her eyes, reddened with strain. She gave an absolutely terrifying scream for a long moment. She grabbed Eva's hand. “Stay away from Fred Hembry, Little Miss Eva.”
Eva's heart squeezed. I know Fred Hembry. I went to school with Fred Hembry. How the hell would you know him? Blood gathered in Lacey's eyes before her body jerked violently once more and she stilled. Eva touched her fingertips to Lacey's pallid neck. Nothing. Michael was on his knees, staring at Lacey's motionless body. Eva found herself moving to the kitchen and grabbing a freezer bag. She ripped a hole into it and hurried back to Lacey. She placed the bag over Lacey's mouth, pinched
her nostrils together and breathed into her.
Please don't die, Eva begged. Please don't die here. Not here, please. You're so young! She crossed her hands over Lacey's chest and pressed in short stabs over her heart. Please don't die.
Jo put her hands on Eva's shoulders. “Stop.”
“She can't die. Not here.”
Jo pulled firmly. “Stop. Please.” She wrapped an arm around Eva's chest, her palm warm and soothing on Eva's forehead, pulling her into her own body. “You can't help her.”
Michael was transfixed, seemingly unable to move. He got up and Jo immediately released Eva. “Oi, stay right there. Ambulance and police are coming in a few minutes. Don't move.”
The three of them sat down on the sofa, looking anywhere but at Lacey's body, her eyes wide and open at the ceiling. Eva noticed blood trickling from one of her dulled eyes along her cheek. She swallowed bile until the urge to be sick passed.
Eventually, the ambulance and police arrived. Once their statements were taken, Michael called to Eva. She looked at him blankly. She didn't know what to say. What could he say? Jo had put together some things in a weekend bag and collected Eva's handbag.
“We're going to mine,” Jo insisted. Eva couldn't argue with her. Lacey's scream was still ringing in her ears. “I called a cab when PC 'How do you spell Mensah' Plod was taking your statement.”
“Eva.” Michael came over to her. “I'm sorry.”
“Aren't we all?” Jo said, pushing him to one side.
Jo shoved Eva's house keys into Eva's bag and informed the nearest police officer that Eva would be staying in her sister's North London home. Jo hustled her into the cab and started talking.
“We'll have a hot sweet tea, a whisky, Matt's got some fucking amazing sleeping tablets in the medicine cabinet, and you'll rest.”
“What,” Eva murmured, “in God's name just happened?”
“Something pretty bad, my love. But you'll be all right.”
Eva loved her sister to Croydon and back, but hell if she wasn't a fucking awful liar.
Chapter Eight
Eva spent a week sleeping on her sister's sofa bed. Her niece would bounce on the bed at seven in the morning without fail and demand to have her hair plaited. She'd sweeten it with “You do my hair better than Mum,” which always worked, much to Jo's annoyance. The evenings were so much better than the daytime. Eva had to find things to do, and she found it impossible to paint. It was as if there was an invisible force between a paintbrush and paper. Matthew didn't particularly appreciate his sister-in-law being in his home, especially when she couldn't do something useful like cook.
