(no subject)
"Hup, little man," Isaiah said, picking the boy up. Horace was as stiff and uncomfortable in his arms as Isaiah felt lifting him, but he'd stopped grizzling and he wasn't squirming. Isaiah assumed it was easier to get used to this if you'd cared for your little brothers and sisters, the way every other kid in his block had, but he hadn't had any. Horace seemed very small and very breakable, at first, but the longer he held the boy, the heavier he got. "Where's your mum got to, then?"
Horace shrugged without grace, two fingers in his mouth and large brown eyes fixed on some point far past Isaiah.
"Over there?" Isaiah asked, swivelling with the top half of his body and no small amount of awkwardness so that they could bo see, but Horace only shrugged again, and didn't take his fingers out of his mouth. "Come on, little man, she must be around or you'd be howling," Isaiah said, more to himself than to the child.
"How long have you been here?" Keish asked, stepping out of the brick wall beside Isaiah. THe doorway was so narrow that for a moment she really did look as if she'd melted through the dirty clay and blackened mortar. He blinked, surprised, but Horace only extended his free hand in silence and made grabbing motions until Isaiah proferred Keisha's son to her in an unsteady changeover.
"Not long," he said. "Are you sure it's a good idea to leave him out here on his own?"
She ignored him and bounced Horace on her hip once or twice. Isaiah was not especially comforted to see that the boy was no less stiff with his moher than with 'Uncle Isaiah'.
"Mo's cousin's got a new girlfriend," Keisha said, as Horace reached for her necklace. She snatched at his fingers and held them. "She seems... there's something useful about her. One of those girls who pull their weight, y'get me?"
"So?" Isaiah said, looking around the empty brick room. He didn't even try to read her face for a hint: if Keisha was recommending someone, however opaque the recommendation, the alternative was probably bloodshed.
"So Ben's not got long."
"Ben?" Isaiah frowned around the room and left Keisha to accept that she was the recipient.
"Mo's cousin." Keish jiggled Horace absently. The child did not look impressed, and let his hand go limp in his mother's grasp. "He's been seen around Gurney's people, making friends."
"Seen by whom?" Isaiah put his hands in his pockets. Winter worked its way into dank rooms like this with ease: he regretted the grammar the momen it was past his lips.
"Whom," Keisha repeated, incredulous. "By Mo."
"He gave up his own cousin?" It wasn't that unexpected. Mo's proliferation of "cousins" were mostly people he'd been in homes with, and Mo wasn't exactly noted for his warm heart and forgiving nature.
"It's Mo. He'd give up his mum if she was straying," Keisha sounded approving. Horace gave an experimental jerk in her arms, and she tightened her hold on him with at tut. "Stop it."
"His mum's dead," Isaiah said, unable to stop himself. Like anything irrelevant to the mainstay of the conversation, Keisha ignored this.
"But his girlfriend just looked me in the eye and laid Gurney's street soldiers out on a plate for me. Ben went stiff as a board. Mo's with him now, with a pizza knife."
Typical Mo.
"She can't--" Isaiah began, well aware of what his role in this was to be.
"She'll need somewhere to stay," Keisha said, cutting him off before he could absolve himself.
Isaiah sighed, and gave in with a great shrug. He realised a moment later that this was probably where Horace had picked it up from, and would have laughed had the situation allowed it. "She can have the spare at Alice's."
Keisha snorted. "Oh, that's how you reward a girl for doing good? Foist Alice on them day and night?"
"I don't know her," Isaiah pointed out. "Alice won't let her do anything... unwise, and Johnny will keep an eye on her. You can't just ship her off to Mo's."
"Why not?" Horace made another grab for Keisha's necklace, still encumbered by his mother's fingers from his first attempt, and she gave his hand a warning squeeze.
"Because he's Mo, and that's not how I reward a girl for doing good," Isaiah muttered. "Tell her to bring her bag down to Dalston Kingsland and Alice'll meet her." He took his phone from his pocket, and started scrolling through the necessarily lengthy contact list.
"Just Alice?"
"Keisha, love," Isaiah said, with his thumb over the call button, "if you saw Johnny bearing down on you, and you didn't know him or Alice from Adam, who would you trust?"
The next minute he found Horace had be thrust onto him, and Keisha had disappeared back into the back room without another word. Isaiah sighed over the top of the boy's head, and called Alice anyway.
"Good evening, Mr Mukombe," Alice said. Her inflection was the same every time, like one of those infuriating robocallers who seemed to find Isaiah's landline no matter how many times he took it off-registry or changed the number. Her address never changed, either: Isaiah could tell her his name was Isaiah until he was blue in the face, and she'd still start every conversation with Mr Mukombe.
"Alice, love, you're going to have someone staying with you for a bit," Isaiah said, leaving the inevitable stop calling me Mr Mukombe it makes me feel like a third-rate email scammer conversation for later.
"Okay, sure."
"Don't hurt her or put the frighteners on her or anything like that, but keep an eye on her just in case. And don't let her talk to Mo until I say so." Isaiah gave Horace an uncomfortable bounce against his side, and hoped that the toddler wasn't picking too much up from the conversation. "And don't ... kill her or anything."
"Okay, sure, sure." Alice's voice didn't change a fraction. "Does she have a key?"
"No, you need to get her from the station. I'll send you a picture in a minute."
Horace shrugged without grace, two fingers in his mouth and large brown eyes fixed on some point far past Isaiah.
"Over there?" Isaiah asked, swivelling with the top half of his body and no small amount of awkwardness so that they could bo see, but Horace only shrugged again, and didn't take his fingers out of his mouth. "Come on, little man, she must be around or you'd be howling," Isaiah said, more to himself than to the child.
"How long have you been here?" Keish asked, stepping out of the brick wall beside Isaiah. THe doorway was so narrow that for a moment she really did look as if she'd melted through the dirty clay and blackened mortar. He blinked, surprised, but Horace only extended his free hand in silence and made grabbing motions until Isaiah proferred Keisha's son to her in an unsteady changeover.
"Not long," he said. "Are you sure it's a good idea to leave him out here on his own?"
She ignored him and bounced Horace on her hip once or twice. Isaiah was not especially comforted to see that the boy was no less stiff with his moher than with 'Uncle Isaiah'.
"Mo's cousin's got a new girlfriend," Keisha said, as Horace reached for her necklace. She snatched at his fingers and held them. "She seems... there's something useful about her. One of those girls who pull their weight, y'get me?"
"So?" Isaiah said, looking around the empty brick room. He didn't even try to read her face for a hint: if Keisha was recommending someone, however opaque the recommendation, the alternative was probably bloodshed.
"So Ben's not got long."
"Ben?" Isaiah frowned around the room and left Keisha to accept that she was the recipient.
"Mo's cousin." Keish jiggled Horace absently. The child did not look impressed, and let his hand go limp in his mother's grasp. "He's been seen around Gurney's people, making friends."
"Seen by whom?" Isaiah put his hands in his pockets. Winter worked its way into dank rooms like this with ease: he regretted the grammar the momen it was past his lips.
"Whom," Keisha repeated, incredulous. "By Mo."
"He gave up his own cousin?" It wasn't that unexpected. Mo's proliferation of "cousins" were mostly people he'd been in homes with, and Mo wasn't exactly noted for his warm heart and forgiving nature.
"It's Mo. He'd give up his mum if she was straying," Keisha sounded approving. Horace gave an experimental jerk in her arms, and she tightened her hold on him with at tut. "Stop it."
"His mum's dead," Isaiah said, unable to stop himself. Like anything irrelevant to the mainstay of the conversation, Keisha ignored this.
"But his girlfriend just looked me in the eye and laid Gurney's street soldiers out on a plate for me. Ben went stiff as a board. Mo's with him now, with a pizza knife."
Typical Mo.
"She can't--" Isaiah began, well aware of what his role in this was to be.
"She'll need somewhere to stay," Keisha said, cutting him off before he could absolve himself.
Isaiah sighed, and gave in with a great shrug. He realised a moment later that this was probably where Horace had picked it up from, and would have laughed had the situation allowed it. "She can have the spare at Alice's."
Keisha snorted. "Oh, that's how you reward a girl for doing good? Foist Alice on them day and night?"
"I don't know her," Isaiah pointed out. "Alice won't let her do anything... unwise, and Johnny will keep an eye on her. You can't just ship her off to Mo's."
"Why not?" Horace made another grab for Keisha's necklace, still encumbered by his mother's fingers from his first attempt, and she gave his hand a warning squeeze.
"Because he's Mo, and that's not how I reward a girl for doing good," Isaiah muttered. "Tell her to bring her bag down to Dalston Kingsland and Alice'll meet her." He took his phone from his pocket, and started scrolling through the necessarily lengthy contact list.
"Just Alice?"
"Keisha, love," Isaiah said, with his thumb over the call button, "if you saw Johnny bearing down on you, and you didn't know him or Alice from Adam, who would you trust?"
The next minute he found Horace had be thrust onto him, and Keisha had disappeared back into the back room without another word. Isaiah sighed over the top of the boy's head, and called Alice anyway.
"Good evening, Mr Mukombe," Alice said. Her inflection was the same every time, like one of those infuriating robocallers who seemed to find Isaiah's landline no matter how many times he took it off-registry or changed the number. Her address never changed, either: Isaiah could tell her his name was Isaiah until he was blue in the face, and she'd still start every conversation with Mr Mukombe.
"Alice, love, you're going to have someone staying with you for a bit," Isaiah said, leaving the inevitable stop calling me Mr Mukombe it makes me feel like a third-rate email scammer conversation for later.
"Okay, sure."
"Don't hurt her or put the frighteners on her or anything like that, but keep an eye on her just in case. And don't let her talk to Mo until I say so." Isaiah gave Horace an uncomfortable bounce against his side, and hoped that the toddler wasn't picking too much up from the conversation. "And don't ... kill her or anything."
"Okay, sure, sure." Alice's voice didn't change a fraction. "Does she have a key?"
"No, you need to get her from the station. I'll send you a picture in a minute."