Behind the beige door
The cab pulled over with a deafening squeak from the brakes, splashing muddy water over the narrow pavement before coming to a halt. Holly slammed backwards into the seat, eyelids fluttering open. After a frantic search for the seat belt buckle, she paid the driver - not a penny more than needed - and tumbled out of the car.
No more had she shut the door behind her before the cab drove off like devil was on his tail, soaking Holly from the knees down with more water from the gutter. For the latter, he was rewarded with a curse. If she ever came across his ghost, she would have no regrets throwing the source into the furnaces of Clerkenwell!
That's what she got for choosing a car with dents. Next time she rode with Lockwood she would pay closer attention to his selection. So far, he had never chosen a driver who risked his passengers' lives in every crossing.
Holly sighed and inspected the damage to her outfit. The stockings would dry up soon enough, but the hem of her coat would need a wash. Excellent, as if she didn't have better things to do.
The grim March air kept her from lingering on the pavement. Repeating the address quietly to herself, she glanced up and down the street in search for the right number. Turned out she was standing right outside of it. A worn apartment house squeezed in between a café and small supermarket.
Perhaps the driver hadn't been that bad after all.
Holly frowned as she approached the entrance to the house. The neighbourhood wasn't as bad as she thought it would be. She'd heard the rumours about Tooting, but the street was actually nice. It wasn't Portland Row, but she wasn't afraid of being mugged. If it wasn't for heavily trafficked street, adjacent this one, the neighbourhood could have been really calm and quiet. A bit worn perhaps, but nice. No greenery though.
The luck, which had allowed her to make the errands on record time, still shone on her. As she approached the building, a young couple came out. Bickering about some silly couple-thing. Leaving her an opportunity to sneak in unseen.
Two floors up from the ground level she found herself walking down a long and narrow corridor. The number of doors and the space in between them told her that the apartments could be no more than rooms. And judging by sound coming out of some of them, not very well soundproofed. A man coughed, deep and wheezing. A TV replayed the morning news. A toilet flushed ... Ew! Shared bathroom!
Holly couldn't think of anything worse than to share a bathroom with strangers. She had struggled with it at Rotwell and they cleaned their toilets every day. This place, though … Holly shivered. She would rather face the Poltergeist at Aickmere's store again.
305 … 307 … 309 …
Holly stopped outside apartment 311. This was it. Behind this door was answer to the mysterious address Lockwood had kept a secret. Holly frowned. One would have thought a mysterious door would have looked more … well, mysterious. This one couldn't be plainer, painted in a hideous beige colour that time had only made worse. There were no scratches nor scrapes which was unlike some of the other doors she'd seen. Nothing that gave away what was hidden behind it.
Holly raised her hand to knock but hesitated with the knuckles an inch away from the door. What if Lockwood hadn't told them about the address because he had been here already and been told to fuck off? What if he had gotten it wrong? What if she had gotten it wrong? The letters had been smeared …
Too late to turn back know, though, Holly reasoned. Had she come this far, she couldn't back out now. Whatever awaited her on the other side of this door, it couldn't be worse than the current situation at 35 Portland Row.
He knocked. Hard and loud. The sound echoed through the hallway. The voices farther down the corridor quieted and someone lowered the volume of the TV a second later. Nothing sounded on the other side of the door Holly was standing outside of.
She knocked again. What if no one was home, what would she do then? Return to Portland Row and forget she had ever found the note?
Luckily, she never got to find out. After the third knock, something stirred on the other side and someone fiddled with the lock. Holly sucked in a breath as the door started to move.
"Holly?!"
"Hi, Lucy."
The door opened up widener and Lucy Carlyle came into full view. Holly's jaw dropped.
"Oh, for god's sake, Lucy, you must be kidding me. Do you know what time it is?"
Lucy took a step back. Not at all expecting the sudden outburst from Holly. To be honest, it surprised Holly too.
"Did you come here to ask what time it is?"
"Oh, don't be daft! You can't seriously be sleeping at this hour? It's long passed midday!"
Seriously, where did this rage come from? A minute ago, she had been a nervous wreck. Now, there was nothing inside her but pure rage. And for no other reason than Lucy's hair being tousled from sleep and the lack of make-up. The washed-out t-shirt, coming off on one should might have something to do with it, too. Did the girl never buy herself something pretty to sleep in?
Why did the whole I-don't-give-an-eff-about-my-appearance turn Holly on so?
Because it was Lucy. Awkward, moody, and totally bad-ass Lucy who embraced all the things Holly was not.
While Holly ogled Lucy, Lucy recovered from the shock of seeing her former colleague outside the door. She crossed her arms underneath the chest - an action which made Holly very aware of the fact that Lucy did not wear a bra.
"Freelancers don't have the luxury of early nights. I did three cases last night, went back and forth to Clerkenwell with the Sources and cashed out the payment before coming home. Never once taking a cab, because you know what? They cost a fortune!"
Ah, so that's was Lockwood's trick!
"Wished you thought about that before you resigned, don't you?"
Holly winced. What was wrong with her? Why the hostility? It wasn't helping her case at all. If she didn't drop the attitude now, she would make things worse. Oh no, too late … Lucy's eyes already had that dark twinkle that let her surroundings know she was pissed off.
"If you came here to insult me - fuck off! I don't have time for this. Seriously, what are you doing here? Why aren't you at Portland Row? How did you even find me?"
It took every ounce of self-control for Holly to calm down. Lucy's way of spitting out Portland Row like it was a bad word triggered something deep within. Guilt, probably, for making Lucy feel that way about the place she once called home.
"I didn't," Holly said with much calmer than she felt. "Lockwood did."
By the way Lucy's eyes darted both ways in the corridor, Holly knew two things. One, Lockwood had never here. Two, Lucy struggled to forget him.
That last part made the anger slip away like a table cloth hung up to dry outside a windy day.
"Can I come in?"
Lucy stepped aside to leave the doorway open. Probably too overwhelmed by the roller-coaster ride the situation had taken her on ever since she opened the door to anything else other than comply to the request. Holly stepped inside and … the rage returned.
Dirty dishes on a floor that needed to be vacuumed weeks ago. Clothes in heaps. A damp towel thrown across the back of an armchair. Were those dirty knickers peeking out from underneath it?
Holly was suddenly very glad Lockwood hadn't been here. The girl was a pig! This was a pig pen! Lockwood had been through enough trauma in his life to deserve to witness this. His fragile sanity would shatter in a heartbeat. How could Lucy allow herself to live in this filth?
Holly spun around to pin Lucy against the back of the now closed apartment door with her gaze, but Lucy wasn't looking at her but at the mess surrounding them.
"I would have cleaned if I knew someone was coming over, but since I haven't given my address to anyone, I never expected anyone to come here." She shook her head and finally looked up. "Why are you here, Holly?"
Holly dug out an envelope from her coat pocket and gave it to Lucy.
"Your last payment. You left before Lockwood could give it to you." Lie! The address wasn't the only thing Lockwood had kept to himself. He must have thought, probably due to some silly boy-notion, that Lucy would eventually yield and ask for it and when she did, he could win her back. In that way they truly deserved each other. They were both headstrong idiots. Brats, really.
"You didn't have to …" Lucy started to say but quieted as she flickered through the money inside. How much did a freelancers earn these days?
"Thank you."
The sincere gratitude reflected in Lucy's face made Holly feel bad for having an ulterior motive.
"It doesn't come for free if that's what you think," she told the other girl flatly. "Have you eaten - no? I thought a saw café downstairs. I could do with a cup of hot tea after traveling here in this weather. We have matters to discuss and I don't want to linger a minute more in this sorry excuse for an apartment than absolutely necessary. I'm sorry, Lucy, but someone has to tell you - you're a slob!"
Lucy's jaw dropped and she struggled to find the words.
"What matters do we have to discuss?"
No snappy reply, no? Guess living on one's own really made one loosing one's edge.
"Lockwood." Holly only paused for as long as it needed for the message to sink in, then she added. "He's alive, if that's what you're worrying about."
"I wasn't…" Lucy began, but a knowing look from Holly made her rephrase that statement. "What about Lockwood?
"I'll tell you when you're decent. See you at the café."
With that, Holly marched out of the apartment. Leaving a speechless Lucy to close the door behind her.