Ice Diaries (12 page)

I shrugged. “We haven’t
known him long enough to become friends. He seems okay.”

“Nina told me how you rescued him
in the snow. Saving a person’s life forms a bond between you. I
can see you wouldn’t want to be disloyal. Did he say anything
about me while he was here?”

“No.” I thought this the
answer least likely to cause trouble. “He said very little
about anything. He was asleep most of the time.”

Mike hesitated. “This is awkward.
I don’t want to blacken Morgan’s character, and I can see
you’ve no reason to trust me more than him. You don’t
know me from Adam. If, as you say, he’s moved on, then it
doesn’t matter anyway. But I feel I have to give you a warning.
If by any chance he is still around, please do be careful. Don’t
necessarily believe everything he tells you. Watch your back. He can
be very plausible.”

“Thanks. But I doubt we’ll
see him again.”

Mike stood. “I’ll let you
go now. I’m glad we had this chat. Let Mac walk you home.”

I smiled. “We can walk ourselves,
thanks. Come on, Greg.”

The tea had gone cold. I put water to
boil to make us some more. I felt unnerved and also uncertain. Was it
possible I’d got Morgan wrong and that Mike was the injured
party?

“You know, I did see Morgan this
morning,” Greg said. “I didn’t make a mistake. It
was definitely him.”

“Yes, I know. But Morgan doesn’t
want Mike to know where he is. Best not to mention him if possible.”
Greg nodded. “Thanks for backing my story up, Greg.”

“Mike got quite excited when I
said I’d seen Morgan,” Greg said, thoughtfully. “He
really wanted you to tell him where he was.”

I remembered what Morgan had said; two
men with baseball bats could walk all over us. My improvised dagger
was still at my side, but it didn’t make me feel any safer.

Ice Diaries ~ Lexi Revellian

That night I set my alarm for 4.35. The
next morning, an hour before dawn, I sloped off to the Gherkin by a
roundabout route to tell Morgan about Nina’s dinner party. If
Mike and his gang were at Nina’s, that would be the perfect
opportunity for him to steal the spare part for the ACE. I climbed
the stairs cautiously, following the tiny circle of light my torch
made in the inky blackness. At the entrance to the eighth-from-snow
floor I called out his name, which was just as well since he turned
out to be standing round the corner with a lump of wood waiting to
brain the intruder he’d heard.

He stepped into view, making me jump.
His eyes shone through his hair, looking me up and down. “It’s
you again. Why don’t you just bring your toothbrush and move in
with me?”

“Very funny. I came for a
reason.”

“Because you can’t keep
away?”

I rolled my eyes and told him about the
party. That done, I didn’t hang about, though he said now I’d
woken him I might as well stay for a coffee. I wanted to return while
it was dark and no one could see me. I got home and back into a cold
bed as the sky began to lighten, and lay there sleepless, thinking.
Either Mike was the baddie, or Morgan, and I was still unsure which
was which. I was not at all convinced I should have told Morgan about
the opportunity to steal from Mike, when he’d already stolen
his gold and his sled. On the other hand, if he got the spare part
he’d be able to repair the snowmobile and leave, rather than
stay and kill Mike. Not that I could believe he actually would …

That day was our scheduled firewood
day. All of us except Claire and Nina met up in the office block next
to Bézier. It’s more difficult than you’d expect
to find timber in a modern office, since most furniture these days is
made out of veneered chipboard, MDF or ply and doesn’t burn
well. There is too much glue in its composition. We’d
discovered a massive conference table made from solid wood, not easy
to break up but worth the effort. We attacked it with our motley
collection of saws and our one axe, and by the end of the day had
reduced it to five satisfyingly neat piles of fuel.

Pleasantly tired, I traipsed home with
my share and heated some food. I’d eaten supper, spent a couple
of hours curled on the sofa with a book, and was beginning to think
of bed when a bang on the window startled me. I went over and drew
the curtain. Serena stood outside, holding a bottle of Moët &
Chandon. I let her in. She looked different from the day before, less
composed and sleek. Her eyes were slightly unfocused, her face
flushed and she held on to the edge of the door as she stepped over
the threshold. Serena was drunk.

She smiled a brilliant smile. “Hi,
just thought I’d drop in for a chat. Is that okay?”

“Sure. Make yourself at home.
Would you like a coffee?

“No, I’m hitting the
champers.” She plonked herself on the sofa with her champagne
and wrestled with the wire fastening, swearing.

“Shall I do that?”

I took the bottle, fetched glasses and
eased out the cork. Foam spurted into the flutes and I filled them
with champagne.

“Cheers.” Serena knocked
hers back in one go and reached out to pour another. “Mmm,
lovely, that’s better. D’you ever just feel like getting
ratted? I hope you don’t mind me coming round here like this. I
couldn’t stand that flat one minute longer. Mike’s
playing poker with the boys, they’ll go on till the small
hours.”

“Don’t you play?”

“Me? Good Lord no, I might lose.”

“What are they playing for? It
can’t be money.”

“Forfeits. You wait, any minute
now there’ll be someone running round the building just wearing
his boots. That’s why I won’t play any more. It’s
all right for Mike, he never loses.” She looked towards the
window then around the room. “Don’t you get fed up stuck
here, nothing ever happening?”

“It’s not so bad –
could be a lot worse. Of course if I got the chance to go south I
would.”

“That’s what I thought when
Mike offered me one of his sleds.” She nodded. “Anything
to get out. All this fucking snow! I’m so sick of it. And I
thought he was quite sweet. But I wish we were going straight there.
It could be months till he thinks he’s got enough gold, longer
if he doesn’t get back what Morgan took. And I know he’ll
dump me if he meets someone prettier.” She stared into my eyes.
“I can tell you this, Tori, because you’re my friend and
I know even though you want to go south, you wouldn’t go after
Mike –”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“– and anyway, you’re
not his type, you’re too scruffy, he likes women who bother
with their appearance, not like you, anyone can see you don’t
give a damn.”

“Thank you.”

“Nothing personal, but s’true,
isn’t it?” She was having to take care not to slur her
words.

“Yup. I don’t give a damn.”

“S’not easy, keep looking
like this with no hot water or hairdressers or manicurists, you know.
If I let myself go even a tiny bit, don’t do my hair or makeup,
have an extra glass of wine, whatever, this kind of shadow comes over
his face and he gets all cool … Mike doesn’t drink,
that’s ‘cause he wants to stay in control. He won’t
let me smoke, even outside. I say, d’you mind if I do? I’m
gasping for one.”

“Go ahead.”

“Thanks.” She got out a
squashed packet of Benson & Hedges, lit a cigarette and inhaled.
“He doesn’t like it if I swear, either. He’s
allowed to but not me. And I’m in trouble if I even
glance
at another man, and he checks out every girl he meets, I see him do
it. D’you know, sometimes I get so sick of him I could scream.”
She gulped more champagne. “He’s obsessive about having
everything just so, he’s neurotic about germs, always sniffing
at food in case it’s gone off. So irritating. Plus he’s a
total hypochondriac, every single day he finds some new imaginary
symptom for BJ to check out. He can be really horrible, too. I liked
Morgan better. I was hoping he might take over from Mike, and
everything would be much nicer. But then there was that row and he
left.”

“You never said what the row was
about,” I said, hopeful she’d tell me now she was on
transmit not receive.

“Him and Red fell out … I
fancy Morgan, don’t you?”

“No.” I was firm about
this. Firmer than I felt. “Not my type. Who’s Red?”

I didn’t get an answer. She was
dreamily focused on Morgan. “He’s got lovely eyes, just
like aquamarines, have you noticed? Sort of cold but warm … and
that way he kind of broods … fabulous body, too, and he can beat
up any of the others if he wants. Listen, I’ll tell you
something I haven’t told anyone else. When we get to the
sunshine, I’m not staying with Mike. He can’t make me.
Soon as we get there, that’s me done, I’m off. I just
need to get there first, and he’s the only way I can, that’s
the only reason I’m staying with him. Don’t tell anyone.
Specially not him. You know what?” She leaned closer. “He
frightens me.”

Nothing much happened the next day. The
weather was bright and sunny, leading me to fantasize about the snow
melting and life returning to normal after a few weeks of flood,
which would be all right as my flat was high up and I had lots of
provisions and making a raft would be fun …

Mike’s people were in evidence
around the place, moving stuff in bulk from the shops (did Nina
know?) and roaring about on their sleds. I wondered if Mike had been
cool towards Serena when she’d finally tottered home the night
before, worse for drink, hanging on to my arm. I hadn’t gone in
with her. I hadn’t been much help, but then she’d only
really wanted someone to rant to. I don’t think Greg told
anyone about Mike’s disquieting quizzing of us, and I didn’t
tell anyone about Serena’s visit. There were no further
sightings of Morgan.

Ice Diaries ~ Lexi Revellian

Wednesday was the day of the dinner
party. While getting ready, I felt curiosity to meet Mike and his
group again and see how the evening went; we’d be an
ill-assorted crowd and I couldn’t imagine how we’d all
get on. I washed my hair and did my eye makeup with care. I put on a
Vivienne Westwood top, boned plum velvet with a zip down the middle,
and Dolce & Gabbana skinny jeans. I checked myself in the mirror
from all angles, added a leather cuff and diamond earstuds and smiled
smugly at my reflection. I’ll admit that what Serena had said
about my appearance stung a little.

When I arrived a bit early, it was
clear Nina had gone the whole hog, and possibly Mrs Hog and the baby
hoglets too. The room was warm and smelled of lilies from scented
candles. A third sofa had been brought in to accommodate the extra
guests, and Nina, in a long raspberry dress with silver jewellery,
was busy arranging dozens of silver and red scatter cushions. A pair
of eight-branched silver candelabra decorated the table (it was
longer than usual – she must have added another, the join
concealed below the white damask table cloth) which was laid with
enough cutlery and glassware for a banquet. There were napkins folded
on the side plates, names on flowered cards by each place, and in the
centre a convincing arrangement of silk flowers complete with acrylic
dew drops. Archie, unlike himself in a dark suit and clearly under
orders, stood by the sideboard. On it were arranged a silver bowl
containing water tinted red with floating candles and more faux
roses, bottles of expensive wine and a tray of canapés.

“This all looks very nice,”
I said.

“So do you, Tori. Champagne?”
Archie fiddled with the wire on a bottle of Cristal.

Nina looked up from her cushions. “No
she doesn’t, not in that stained old ski suit she goes foraging
in every day. Tori, do take it off before anyone gets here and sees
you.”

I peeled off my scarf, jacket and
trousers and changed my shoes. Nina whisked my outer garments out of
sight, holding them well away from her. Archie poured me a glass of
champagne and I helped myself to a canapé. Belatedly I said
through a mouthful of caviar, “Is there anything I can do?”

“I think everything’s under
control. Nina’s been working hard for days.”

I bet Archie’s been doing most of
it, under direction. “Well, it’s certainly paid off. The
last dinner I went to this grand was when my godfather took me to the
Savoy to celebrate my eighteenth birthday.”

I told Archie about it. I’d
ordered roast quail because I’d never had it before. To my
surprise, it turned out to be as round as a canon ball and slippery.
When I tried to cut it up, the darned thing shot off my plate on to
the carpet. I was mortified, but my godfather thought it hilarious,
and the waiter fetched me another one in the most charming manner,
and told me deadpan not to worry, he’d got several more lined
up in case they were needed. I’ve wanted to go back to the
Savoy ever since. Too late now.

Paul, Claire, Gemma and little Toby,
asleep in his cot, arrived. Gemma was wearing her dressing-up
Renaissance Queen outfit; red with gold lacing and handkerchief
sleeves, plus matching crown. It was getting a little short for her,
as it dated from before the snow. She started at once to turn a chair
into a throne using the silver cushions. Nina had set up a screen for
Toby’s carrycot so she could pretend he wasn’t there,
with a seat so Claire could feed him discreetly without being seen. I
think ideally she’d have liked to tidy Gemma away behind it too
for the evening. She eyed the disarranged cushions.

“As soon as you get tired, Gemma,
you can have a nice nap in our bed until it’s time to go home.”

“I won’t get tired,”
said Gemma. “I’m good at staying up late.”

Claire said quickly, “That’s
very thoughtful of you, Nina.” I caught Claire’s eye; the
corner of her mouth twitched and I turned away before we got the
giggles. Paul reappeared from the bedroom wearing grey trousers and a
corduroy jacket. None of us looked like our normal selves. Like
Gemma, we were in fancy dress. Claire had put her hair up which she
never does. She wore a long skirt and a low-cut draped top with a
dramatic necklace.