She turned the pages of the album.
‘She was really pretty,’ said Jeanie, looking over Ebony’s shoulder. ‘Red hair. I always wanted red hair.’
‘Individual-looking rather than sweet,’ answered Ebony as she continued turning the pages of the album. ‘Quirky almost: face like a pixie.’
‘We didn’t get a lot of useful info from Elaine. It’s hard to see how Emily lived when it’s all been boxed up. You can see her style though. I would say both girls were not that big on the new porno look for women or wearing kids’ clothes.’
Ebony turned the pages in the album thoughtfully.
‘Yeah, I don’t know much about fashion.’
‘What do you wear if you and Tina are hitting the town?’
‘Jeans and a top.’
‘Would you wear the kind of thing Emily’s got on?’
Ebony shook her head. ‘It’s a dress. I never wear dresses or skirts. But I guess it was summer in this picture.’ She showed Jeanie. ‘It’s a long sundress type of thing. It’s a bit hippy maybe?’
Jeanie shook her head. ‘Those long skirts were in fashion last summer.’
Ebony turned the pages. ‘Fashionable hippy then?’
‘Have you got Danielle’s iPod?’ asked Jeanie.
‘Here.’ Ebony took it out of the bag containing the personal items they’d taken from Danielle’s flat.
‘Let’s put it through the system here and listen to it.’
Ebony connected it up.
‘Oasis. Arctic Monkeys. Old-fashioned type of rock chick,’ said Jeanie. Ebony skipped forward along the tracks. ‘Neil Young, Bob Dylan, Black Keys, Florence and the Machine.’ Jeanie reeled off the names of the artists whilst drumming her fingers on the steering wheel.
‘How do you know so much about music?’ asked Ebony.
Jeanie shrugged. ‘Always loved it. All kinds. You have to be brought up with music to know about people like Bob Dylan. Danielle loves acoustic, poetical lyrics.’ They parked up and walked into the centre, stopping outside H&M.
‘Let’s start here.’
Jeanie led the way, going around the shop collecting clothes whilst Ebony trailed behind her carrying them. Within twenty minutes they were in the changing room.
‘Try these baggy trousers with these five different tops and we’ll decide a look for you.’ Jeanie separated the different styles of clothes onto separate hanging space in the changing room. Ebony slipped out of her work clothes and waited to be handed the first pair of combat-style trousers. ‘I reckon we go for practical, not too bright, with a hint of feminine about it. Let your hair down, Ebb.’ Ebony undid the ponytail at the back of her head and untwisted the knot. Her hair ballooned out over her shoulders. ‘So pretty, your hair, like soft, black candyfloss.’
‘Legacy from my Jamaican dad.’ She waited whilst Jeanie chose a top and took the hanger out of an embroidered peasant-style cotton blouse in green.
‘Ebb, why have you got a sports bra on?’
Ebony shrugged. ‘I always wear them.’
‘They make you look much flatter than you are.’ Ebony didn’t answer. She pulled the blouse over her head. The sports bra was visible as an off-white cloth bar across the gape where the buttons did up. ‘We’ll have to get you a few bras. I reckon you’re a thirty-four B. Christ, I wish I was that. Mine are huge since I had Christa. It’s taking me forever to get my figure back. I’m going to go to the gym, Ebb. I’ll have to stop making excuses and just do it.’
‘Don’t beat yourself up about it. Christa’s a pretty good excuse, Jeanie.’
‘I know but I’ll have to think of something; I’m sick of not being able to get back into my clothes.’
‘I wouldn’t worry about it,’ Ebony said as she held out her hand, waiting to exchange another top.
‘That’s all right for you to say. If I had your figure I’d show it off, wear some short skirts sometimes – your legs are fab. I wouldn’t worry about it either.’
‘I’m shapeless.’ Ebony put the clothes neatly back on their hangers.
‘No you’re not. Who told you that? Whoever it was is not seeing what I see in that mirror. Just jealous, I expect.’
‘Yeah, right.’ Ebony avoided looking at herself in the mirror. ‘I’ve always been big-boned. My mother always tried to make me look pretty – never worked. My mum was petite but curvy. The opposite to me basically.’
‘You’re athletic and lean but with a proper waist and a woman’s shape. Be proud, Ebb.’ Jeanie could see Ebony was beginning to feel uncomfortable and snatch at the clothes. ‘Okay. Torture’s over, Ebb. I’ve decided. ‘We’ll take four of these tops, these two pairs of trousers, and we’ll pick you up a pair of skinny jeans for the evening. Done. Oh, and some underwear: bras that fit, for Christ’s sake.’
It would be evening before Jeanie could think of making it back to Tracy. She gave her a ring.
‘There will be officers stationed outside from now on – just as a precaution. You know – I’m very proud of you – you’re coping much better than you think.’
‘Thank you, Jeanie. I feel exhausted. I can see me going to bed the same time as Jackson.’
‘What about Steve – is he coming home tonight?’
‘He might do. We have to talk about it.’
‘Do you want me around tonight?’
‘No, Jeanie. I’m exhausted and so is Jackson. We’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘Of course. If you need me, you call.’
‘I will.’
Chapter 30
Ebony left Jeanie to drive straight home to spend some time with Christa whilst she got the bus home with her two bags of clothes. She stepped off the bus and was on her way to the local Spar shop to pick up something to eat. She’d been told by Carter to go home and make sure she had what she needed to prepare for going undercover. She had a new set of clothes, and had even had a lesson in putting on make-up from the woman in the Body Shop. Now she was going home to go over the details for the hundredth time. She was already beginning to think herself into another person’s skin, trying hard to imagine the sights and smells of the Caribbean and had listened to endless newsreels from the last few years to make sure she knew enough about what had been going on in the place she was supposed to have lived in. First she’d go to the Spar and get herself some comfort food to sustain her whilst she continued her studies.
A car was parked up across the street as she left the Spar with her shopping. Two men were sitting inside who she didn’t recognize. She could tell it was a police car – something about the way it was parked and where; its colour, the position of its number plate. She was mulling over what it could be: maybe a drugs bust, maybe a hit on illegal workers in the shop. She kept an eye on the men in the car as they stared straight ahead. Then, on some unseen signal, they switched on the engine and accelerated forward just as Ebony got close. Ebony turned to look behind her to see what they were headed for. She was beginning to feel like she might be accidentally about to get caught up in something. Her heart was racing – would they need her to assist? Was she in their way? The car seemed to be heading straight for her. They drew up just ahead of her and she saw the back passenger door swing open. Then her world went black as hands gripped her and she was pushed down headfirst and thrown into the car.
Ebony’s eyes were wide open as she sat in the back of the car, held firm. Her hands were behind her back, tied with a plastic tie. Nobody spoke to her. She could only smell the cloth of the inside of the bag she had over her head. She could hear her heart beating.