‘What did you say to that poor woman?’ Daniel asked as we stood on the pavement outside. I jammed my hat onto my head and gave him an innocent look.
‘I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.’ I threw my scarf around my neck with a flourish and Daniel shook his head.
‘You’re incorrigible, Evie.’
‘So I’ve been told. Well, I guess I should head back. I’m this way,’ I said, gesturing in the direction of my sister’s block.
‘Me too,’ said Daniel, taking my hand. ‘And I know you’re not fucking fifteen. Just hold my hand and don’t make a fuss.’
I did as I was told – just this once. In truth, it was quite nice holding hands with him as we walked. ‘Do you live around here, then?’ I asked.
‘Not far. I’ve been renting an apartment for the last year, while we rehearsed the play and all that.’
‘Does she… live with you?’ I asked. I felt bad that I didn’t know her name.
‘Maria? Yes, we live together. But we have separate rooms now. Separate lives practically. Apart from the play, we hardly see each other.’
‘Sounds awkward.’
‘Oh, it is. No one wants to carry on living with the person who dumped them,’ he said, sadly.
I thought about Rachel; she’d be on her way across the Atlantic by now. I had no idea how that was all going to turn out; I could only hope that she didn’t let Martin treat her like a fool. She loved him dearly, that much was obvious, and he was bloody lucky to have a woman like her. I just hoped he’d come to his senses and realise that before it was too late.
‘Penny for ’em?’ said Daniel.
‘Just thinking about a friend of mine. She’s in a similar situation. Sort of.’
‘Then she has my total sympathy.’
‘I’ll pass that on the next time I speak to her. Actually, you know her. Rachel North as she was then — she went to college with us.’
Daniel stopped walking. ‘Rachel North. Yeah, maybe. Was she in our Theatre Studies class?’
‘Yes. She put on that one-woman show about the power of the female orgasm.’ I had a sudden flashback to Rachel, standing on stage dressed as a vagina, complete with fuzzy pubes and a papier-mâché clitoris.
‘Oh, fuck, yeah. Now I remember. How is she these days?’
We carried on walking. ‘She’s not great, she just found out her husband cheated on her.’
Daniel let out a low whistle. ‘Well, that sucks. How did she find out?’
‘He told her. She was here in New York with me until this evening. She flew back home to try and sort things out with him.’
‘Well, I wish her luck.’
We carried on walking, hand in hand, neither of us speaking. The slightly surreal nature of the whole evening, of this whole trip so far, was starting to dawn on me.
‘My sister is sleeping with a married man as well,’ I blurted out suddenly.
‘O–kay,’ Daniel replied cautiously. ‘Why did I need to know this?’
‘Not sure really,’ I said, and I didn’t. Maybe the red wine had loosened my tongue? ‘I feel like a lot has happened these last few days. Lots of new information to process. Talking about it helps. That’s what my therapist used to tell me anyway.’
‘You had a therapist?’ Daniel sounded surprised, but I wasn’t sure why.
‘Yes. And thank God. After Tom was killed I… lost the plot for a while. Therapy saved me. It helped me to be able to carry on being a parent to my kids. It helped me get through the day. No shame in asking for help,’ I said.
‘None at all.’
I realised we’d reached my sister’s building. ‘This is me.’
‘That’s crazy. My place is literally two blocks away from here.’
I tried to picture his apartment – their apartment, I should say – but I couldn’t. I didn’t know enough about him, about who he had become, but I found myself wanting to know. I was interested in Daniel Roberts, I realised.
‘I suppose I should go up and apologise to my poor sister,’ I said. I wasn’t looking forward to that.
‘We could keep walking for a bit, if you like?’ he asked. I was so tempted to say yes but that was probably because I didn’t want to go upstairs and face my sister.
‘I’d better go up. Kate will be having kittens by now.’
We stood on the pavement awkwardly. He leaned in to kiss me on the cheek and I got another whiff of whatever heavenly scent he was wearing. ‘Goodnight, then, Evie. Maybe we’ll bump into each other again, since we’re practically neighbours and all that.’
‘Maybe,’ I said. He gave me a little bow and then walked away, up the street and around the corner.
I put my hand up to my face where he’d kissed me; I felt like a stupid schoolgirl. ‘Pull yourself together, Evelyn-Marie.’ I pushed open the door to my sister’s building and went inside.
Sixteen
After spending most of the previous night apologising to my sister, I’d given myself the luxury of a lie in. Actually, I was just hiding in the curtained alcove I was now sleeping in until Kate left for work. I figured I’d apologised enough, plus I didn’t want to get drawn in on the topic of my sister’s adulterous relationship. I didn’t have the energy to argue about it – she was a grown woman; she could make her own mistakes. Speaking of which, I picked up my phone and reread the message I’d received from Rachel in the early hours of the morning.
Just got back. Martin said he’s glad I came back. I don’t know what’s going to happen. Too soon to tell. Love you lots xx have fun in NY xx
I threw my phone down onto the mattress and lay back with my eyes closed. Poor Rachel.
I heard the front door close; my sister had gone to work. I looked at my watch; it was 7 a.m. I was alone, but I didn’t mind; I had a full day planned. I was going to visit some of the sights that made New York such a special place at Christmas. I didn’t have a specific list; I was going to just wander the streets with my notebook and pen in my bag and see where the mood took me. I’d already started jotting down a few things in the notebook. Nothing special, just snatches of overheard conversation, or doodles of things I’d seen, but I could feel the germ of an idea for something beginning to take shape. I felt excited for the first time in a long while and eager to get out and see things. And there was only one place I wanted to start my day.
*
I pushed open the door to Joe’s diner; it was fast becoming my ‘go to’ place for food and comfort. I realised I’d been here almost every day since I’d arrived. How long ago was that now? It felt like an age but in fact it had only been barely three days. Three days full of unexpected weirdness, revelations and drama. No wonder I was exhausted. All that, combined with a killer case of jet lag, had left me with some seriously jangling nerves.
The diner was full, and it was loud. I could hear raised voices coming from the kitchen and the sound of crashing plates. What the hell? I walked over to the counter, trying to peer through the serving hatch. I could see Judy holding some plates of food and Joe gesticulating wildly.
‘If you wanna eat breakfast before lunch, you might wanna try someplace else.’ I turned to see a guy in a high-vis vest and a lumberjack shirt sitting at the counter nursing a mug of coffee.
‘I beg your pardon?’ I said.
‘I think they’re short-handed. Judy’s been running around like a headless chicken all by herself.’
As if on cue, Judy pushed through the swing doors from the kitchen and out into the diner. She was clutching three plates of food and her normally sunny disposition was well and truly absent. She rushed over to some customers in a booth and practically threw their plates down on the table, before moving further down the row to take another order.
‘Joe?’ I called through the serving hatch. ‘What’s going on?’
His sweaty face appeared in the gap in the tiles. ‘Two waitresses called in sick this morning, so Judy’s by herself. Excuse me, sweetheart. Emilio, where’s those goddamn eggs?’
Joe’s head disappeared back into the kitchen. Judy gave me a little wave as she came back around the counter. ‘How ya doin’, honey? Sorry but your pancakes might be a while this morning. If you can find a seat, that is.’ She looked so harassed, her bright blonde hair, usually so neatly pinned in place, was sticking to her face in sweaty strands. The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.
‘Can I help?’ Wait – what?
Judy stopped pouring coffee and stared at me. ‘Have you ever waited tables?’
‘Yes, well, sort of. I’ve worked behind a bar.’ Once, Evie, at a student union do, just once. ‘I’m sure I’d be able to manage for an hour or so. I have plans for later on, but—’
‘Here.’ Judy had reached behind the counter and thrust an apron into my hands before I could finish speaking. ‘All the booths along that side are numbered one to ten – do what you can. Coffee’s over there, menus by the door. There’s a pad and pencil in the front pocket of the apron. Orders go here—’ she gestured to a magnetic metal strip above the serving hatch ‘and listen out for the bell. That’ll be Joe telling you when an order’s ready.’
I nodded as I tied the apron around me and then I stood there. Judy gave me a nudge towards the tables by the window. ‘Well, go on, then. You’re an angel,’ she said, before disappearing into the kitchen.
All heads suddenly turned in my direction and I felt like a rabbit caught in headlights. The man wearing the high-vis leant closer and said, ‘Just grab a pot of coffee and see who needs a refill. Give ’em that and you’ll be their new best friend.’
‘Thanks,’ I said. I grabbed the pot from the stand and made my way along the row. ‘Coffee? No problem. Just give me a minute and I’ll be back for your order.’ And that was how I found myself waiting tables in a New York diner for the first time, and probably the last, in my life.
*
It took me a while, but I got the hang of it eventually, sort of. I didn’t spill hot coffee on anyone, which, given my tendency towards clumsiness, was a bloody miracle. I only burnt myself once and I only dropped two plates. Two plates in just under two hours was doing okay for a beginner, Judy informed me. I think she was just being nice, but I took the win nonetheless. Another waitress had finally made it in to help, so I was free to go.
I undid my apron and dropped it on the counter just as Joe came out of the kitchen. I realised that this was the first time I’d seen more than just his head and I was surprised by how short he was. He was wearing a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and I spied the two enormous tattoos that covered his veiny forearms. One was a snake wrapped around a dagger and the other was a dagger spiked through a heart that dripped blood. I sensed a theme with his body art and it made me smile. He looked like a friendly grandad, but I guessed that Joe had a history, another life before he flipped pancakes in this diner. The writer in me longed to ask him about it but I didn’t want to appear rude. He came over to where I was shrugging on my coat and he pulled me into a hug. Judy watched us with amusement.
‘You did good, kid. Thanks. Your next lot of pancakes will be on the house.’ That was it, that was all he said and then he turned and went back out to the kitchen.
‘Aww, he likes you,’ said Judy. ‘So do I. Thanks for everything, sweetie, you really came through for me today. I won’t forget that.’
All the overt gratitude was making the English person in me feel a little uncomfortable. ‘It was nothing, really. I didn’t do that much,’ I said.
‘You saved my ass, so thank you. Where are you headed now? Off somewhere nice with that friend of yours?’
‘No, she had to go home. I’m all on my own today. I’m going to take in some sights and I might even do some writing.’
‘You’re a writer as well as a waitress? You sure have some hidden talents, honey.’
‘I’m just scribbling, nothing serious.’
‘Well, get serious. If it’s what you want to do, then do it. You and I both know how short life can be. You shouldn’t waste it. Like Frank Sinatra said, live each day like it’s your last, ’cos one day it will be.’ She touched my cheek and then walked back down the diner.
That woman is wasted in here, I thought. She should be a therapist. I turned and pushed open the door and left. Suddenly my day felt full of possibilities. I was in the most exciting city in the world and I had no one to please but myself; I could do whatever I wanted. After a pretty dull start, it had turned into one of those glorious winter days; the air was crisp and cold, but the sun was shining brightly. As I started to walk, puffing out cloudy breaths as I went, I came to a decision. New York wasn’t going to beat me – not again. I’d run away from here once before and it had taken me twenty-two years to summon up the courage to come back. Stop running away from things, Evie; it’s time to start running towards things. I heard Tom’s voice in my head and it made me smile. He’d always been so positive, so excited to try new things; sometimes I’d almost felt as if I was holding him back. But his influence had been good for me on the days when I’d needed a little shove to get going, or sometimes even a massive kick up the arse. He’d known when to push and when to leave me alone; how was I ever going to find someone who knew me like that again? You won’t know unless you try, came the reply. Could it really be that easy?
Seventeen
I spent the day queuing in some of the most famous places in the world: the Empire State Building, then the Rockefeller Centre (I finally made it!). I wandered around Times Square, transfixed by the sheer number of billboards and people all jostling for position, and I had some of the best steamed dumplings I’d ever tasted from a tiny restaurant tucked away behind the New York City Library. I was in heaven. I walked until I couldn’t walk any more, stopping whenever an idea popped into my head, writing notes in my book and taking masses of photos. It was fabulous but by four o’clock my feet were killing me and I was exhausted.
That’ll be enough for today, I thought. No need to try and do everything at once.
I’d mastered the art of grabbing a cab in New York by this point; it just involved being brave enough to step into the path of a passing taxi and getting their attention. Nothing to it.
It was almost five o’clock by the time I pulled open the doors to The Madison’s foyer and hurried inside. The concierge on the front desk gave me a slight smile and I started to head towards the elevators.
‘Excuse me, madam,’ he called to me as I walked past. This was getting beyond a joke; he knew I was staying with Kate yet he still pretended not to know me whenever I walked in. I stopped and turned, ready to give him a piece of my mind.
‘Look, this is getting silly. You know who I am—’
‘I have a delivery for you, Mrs Grant.’ Turned out he did know my name. He went back to the desk and picked up a huge flower arrangement: white roses, snow berries and eucalyptus, all hand tied with a red velvet ribbon. It was beautiful and smelled heavenly.
‘These came for you this morning. I did bring them up to your apartment, but you weren’t home.’
‘And they’re for me? Not my sister?’ That would make more sense. They were probably from the adulterous dick she was seeing.
‘No, ma’am, these are for a Mrs Evie Grant.’
I took them from him. ‘Thank you…’ I looked at his name badge ‘… er… Derrick.’
‘You’re most welcome.’ He smiled at me and I felt bad. I’d been berating him for not knowing my name, but I hadn’t bothered to get to know his. On a whim, I pulled a little stem of snow berries from the bouquet and tucked it into the lapel of his jacket.
‘A little thank you, for being here to welcome me every day.’ He looked down at the berries and then adjusted them slightly so they’d be sure to stay put.
‘Thank you, that’s very kind. You have a good evening,’ he said, giving me a shy smile before scurrying off to his little office. I didn’t think I’d ever given a man flowers before; it felt nice to be responsible for making someone feel good.
These flowers are in remembrance of the poor cow who gave its life in order to help break the ice between us at dinner last night.
I will be forever in its debt. Please call me xxx Dan
Underneath the message was a phone number; holy shit! Daniel Roberts had sent me flowers. And wanted me to call him. I fought the urge to hop up and down with excitement. I was a grown woman – I didn’t need to behave that way because a man had sent me flowers. But he’s a movie star, came the little voice in my head that was still obviously seventeen and impressed by that kind of thing. I tucked the card back in the envelope and stepped into the lift. What was I going to do? Should I call him? Would he even answer? Maybe having a coffee with him would be all right, wouldn’t it? Nothing too romantic, no expectations on either side. By the time I got to the apartment I’d talked myself into calling him and arranging to meet for a coffee.
I put the flowers in a glass pitcher I found in one of Kate’s cupboards and then I pulled out my phone and placed it on the kitchen island. And then I just stared at it for ten minutes. What was I thinking? What was the point in calling him? You’re just going to have a coffee, that’s all. I recalled the awkwardness at the beginning of last night’s dinner, only resolved after I’d coughed up my burger. I couldn’t be expected to do that again if things got tricky, could I? I picked up the phone and then almost dropped it when a message came through at the same moment. It was Rachel.
Martin and I have decided to take some time apart. I think it’s for the best. Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. Xx
‘Oh, shit!’ I exclaimed to an empty apartment. I messaged her back.
Rachel, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what else to say. I wish I was there with you to help. I’m sure everything will work out in the end. I love you loads xxxx.
I watched those annoying three dots come and go, as Rachel typed and then deleted a reply, over and over. Eventually she wrote back.
City of Second Chances Page 19
