Chapter 3 - The Clanking Radiator and Mrs. Higgins
By mid-January, New York experienced a brutal polar plunge. Temperatures dropped to five degrees below zero, and the wind off the Hudson River tore through the cracks of the old Willow Street apartment building like a sharp blade.
Apartment 3B was freezing.
The children slept together in the middle of the living room floor, huddled under every item of clothing they possessed. Ethan had lined the base of the doors and windows with rolled-up bath towels to block the whistling icy drafts, but the lack of heat was turning their refuge into an icebox.
At 2:00 a.m., a loud, rhythmic knocking sound echoed from below.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Sophie woke up with a sharp cry, clutching her ears. “Ethan! The monster is under the floor!”
“Shh, sweetie, it’s just the pipes,” Ethan whispered, sitting up quickly.
The heat pipes were knocking—a sign that air was trapped in the building’s central boiler system downstairs. If the landlord didn't bleed the valves, the heat wouldn't reach the upper floors at all.
Ethan knew he couldn't call the landlord, Mr. Henderson. Henderson was a notoriously mean, greedy man who lived on the first floor and complained if tenants left a single trash bag near the main entrance. If Henderson came up to 3B to check the pipes, he would demand to see an adult.
Suddenly, a heavy knock sounded directly on the front door of Apartment 3B.
All four children froze instantly. Ben stopped breathing, his small hand gripping Ethan’s sweater sleeve so tightly his fingers turned white.
“Laura? Are you in there?” a raspy, elderly female voice shouted through the heavy wood.
It was Mrs. Higgins—the seventy-two-year-old woman who lived in Apartment 3A across the hall. She was a retired seamstress who spent most of her days sitting by her window, watching people come and go through her brass peephole.
Ethan motioned for Lily to pull Ben and Sophie into the back bedroom and lock the door quietly.
He waited ten seconds, taking deep, steadying breaths, before stepping up to the door. He didn't open it; he spoke through the thick wood, making his voice sound like he’d just been woken from a deep sleep.
“Mrs. Higgins?” Ethan asked, yawning loudly. “Is everything okay?”
“Ethan? Where is your mother?” Mrs. Higgins called out, her voice sharp with suspicion. “The boiler is acting up again, and the whole third floor is freezing! I haven't seen Laura carrying groceries up these stairs in three weeks! Is she inside?”
Ethan’s heart slammed against his ribs like a trapped bird.
“She... she’s working the night shift at the hospital, Mrs. Higgins,” Ethan lied smoothly, leaning his forehead against the cold doorframe. “She took a double shift in Brooklyn. She’ll be back tomorrow morning.”
A long, agonizing pause followed. Through the brass peephole, Ethan could see the shadowy outline of Mrs. Higgins standing in her faded floral robe, holding a warm hot-water bottle against her chest.
“A hospital shift?” Mrs. Higgins murmured softly. “She doesn't dress like a nurse, boy. I see her in those high heels and expensive perfume...”
“She’s an administrator,” Ethan cut in quickly, mentally praying his voice didn't crack. “In billing. She works long hours so we can pay the rent.”
Mrs. Higgins let out a long, heavy sigh that rattled her old lungs. “Well, tell her to call Mr. Henderson in the morning. This building is a refrigerator. And Ethan?”
“Yes, ma'am?”
“You’re a good boy. But you look pale. Make sure your mother buys you some oranges.”
Ethan watched through the peephole until the old woman shuffled back into Apartment 3A and clicked her deadbolt shut.
May you like
He collapsed against the wall, sliding down until he was sitting on the cold floor, his head resting between his knees. His whole body was trembling.
He had saved them tonight. But the ice was thinning under his feet. The neighborhood was starting to notice the silence of Apartment 3B. And the forty-five dollars from Laura’s drawer was officially gone.
