Seeing Red.

Leave me alone. The buzzing continued for the fourth time that hour.

She didn’t look at him, only nodded “Taxi for Ebony?” Sliding onto the worn leather seats, she looked through the glass panel of the door.

Tiny streams, like tears, ran down the window disappearing out of sight. Beyond her taxi, the spotlights shone onto the latest masterpiece in the window. London was beautiful, even in the rain. No… especially in the rain.

“Tough day, sweetheart?”

“Something like that.”

Every day was filled with questions, she didn’t need more on the way home. "Is this an original? Does it come with this frame? I’d much prefer to have a handcrafted piece made. Can we arrange delivery when my husband is at work?" It made her tireless.

“Erm. Miss. I think your phone is ringing” This makes five. Give up.

“I know.” Her voice was heavy and defeated. “Nightingale Lane, please.”

The taxi roared and began to meander forward. Red lights glowing onto her sun-kissed complexion.

“Somebody really wants to speak to you, miss.” His voice was tender; it had been so long since she had experienced compassion. It startled her. She looked up into his mirror. Her tired eyes met his.

“What if I don’t want to speak to him?”

“Pardon me miss, but I think you do… red lips say no, grey eyes say yes.” The taxi jolted to a halt. The Thursday evening traffic saving her some grace. She turned to look out the window, but the condensation hid her city from view. A perfectly sculpted red nail rose to meet the glass and began to draw. Through the traced pattern she could see a black car, tinted windows, driver focused on his passenger – probably somebody she would like to sell art to. On another day at least.

The car began to move and she felt it again. Six times. Gosh. Really? Her eyes flicked to the mirror. His old brown eyes looked back at her. Between his tamed grey beard, his thick lips broke into a wide smile, the lines in his dark freckled skin clenched together to show a life of laughter and love. She reached into her russet red Burberry tote and pulled out her red iPhone 7 plus. She flicked her eyes at the driver but he was looking forward.

“What.”

“Ebony… Hi.” The voice creaked down the phone. She didn’t speak. Everything that she needed to say, had already been said.

“How are you?” It was a callous question and all three of them knew it.

“Leave me alone, David” Every day at work, she hid between an invisible screen. Not now, the barriers were down. She’d had enough of pretending.

“Can we talk? I only want one thing…” A clicking of the indicator told Ebony she was nearly home which caused her to sigh… home was not where the heart was. At least not anymore. “… Babe, it’s just easier this way.”

As he spoke, she looked down at her left hand and played with the platinum band on her finger. Adorned with three glistening stones and a false hope, she was still fond of it. She kept it because of what it signalled to the customers in the gallery, and the people in the street, and the future she might have had. What use was a world of riches, if there’s nobody to share it with?

“Why? So you can give it to her?” She pulled her matching purse out of her bag as the taxi began to slow down “Anywhere on the left is perfect, thank you.”

“Sorry?” The stupidity was almost comical. Almost.

“For what? Being an arsehole? For asking for this stupid ring back? For fucking her in my bed? For lying about it? Or for getting caught red handed?!”

The car came to a halt, perfectly outside her townhouse. Still on the phone, she smiled at the driver. Above his head was a photo of a tired but beautiful woman and two children. Not posed, just happy. She swizzled the ring around her finger.

“No. Listen. David, I am the one who is sorry. You can’t have the ring back because I don’t have it. I gave it away.” A faint gasp echoed down the phone. “You gave it to me. It was mine to do with as I wished. So, I gave it away to somebody who knows what real love is. Please never call again. I won’t answer. Goodbye D.”

She slipped out of the taxi, flicking her perfect blonde curls off her shoulder in defiance. Her umbrella poked out of her bag, but she didn’t reach for it. Instead, she let the water cascade down her defined cheeks.

“Thank you.” She handed him a £20 note and a 50p.

“Miss, this is too much…” Honesty crying out to her as she strolled to her crimson door.

“No, it’s exactly what you deserve.” Her pouting lips smiling for the first time in 6 weeks. She pulled her keys from her bag. He looked down and then straight up in horror. She was gone. In his hand was a £20 note and a platinum band adorned with three glistening stones.