I know you’re right, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.
I replied with a row of kisses; I didn’t know what else to say. I thought about the wife of Kate’s adulterous boyfriend and imagined her feeling like Rachel. Maybe she was messaging her own best friend right now, asking for advice on how to deal with a husband who was with someone else. Or perhaps she didn’t care, perhaps she was at it as well. That made me think of Daniel’s long term girlfriend who’d professed her love for another. Relationships were so messy; in the long run someone always seemed to be destined to get hurt, one way or another. Maybe calling Daniel was a bad idea? Shut up, you daft cow, you’re going for a coffee, he hasn’t asked you to marry him, I mentally admonished myself. I dialled the number on the card and I listened to it ring, four, five, six times before the call connected.
‘Hello?’ His voice was unmistakeable.
‘Hi. It’s me, I mean, it’s Evie.’
‘You got my card?’
‘Yes. And it was very nice of you to remember the cow. They’re a lovely tribute.’
I heard him laugh. ‘How are you today? What have you been up to?’
‘I waited tables at a diner this morning and then went sightseeing.’
‘What? You waited tables at a diner?’
‘It’s a long story. Maybe I could share it with you over a coffee or something later? I mean, if you want to.’ I was babbling a bit.
‘Well, I can’t—’
‘No, of course not. You’re probably really busy. Sorry. Didn’t think.’ Still babbling like an idiot. Nice one, Evelyn-Marie.
‘Wait, hold on. You didn’t let me finish. I was about to say that I’ve got to get ready for tonight’s performance but how about we meet later? Better still, come and see the play. I can leave a ticket for you at the box office.’
Rachel had already told me that the play was a sell-out; I’d be an idiot to pass up a ticket to see it.
‘Evie, are you still there?’
‘Yes, I’m here. That would be great, thank you. If you’re sure?’
‘I’m very sure,’ he said. His voice seemed to move through me like a current of electricity. I had that same odd feeling that I’d felt last night, when our bodies had briefly collided at the restaurant. We were both silent for a few seconds; I could hear him breathing. I tried to lighten the mood.
‘It’ll be good to see if you’ve learned anything since that production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream at college. You’d better be good. I’ll be giving you notes after the performance.’
‘I should hope you do. You know I always valued your opinion.’
‘Yeah, right, of course you did,’ I replied.
‘I did.’
‘Whatever. Just tell me where and when I need to pick up my ticket and I’ll see you later.’
‘It’s the New Holland Theatre, 218 West 42nd Street. It starts at eight. Your ticket will be waiting for you.’
‘Okay, then, I’ll look forward to it,’ I said.
‘Me too. Bye, Evie.’
I ended the call and then sat down on a stool by the kitchen island. I was off out for a night at the theatre – what the heck was I going to wear? I dialled my sister’s number, but the call went to voicemail. I didn’t leave a message; I had a feeling she was still cross with me. I raced upstairs to see what I’d brought with me that might be suitable.
*
After twenty minutes or so of pulling stuff out of my case, I established that all I had was quite a serviceable black dress and a pair of black boots that might be okay if I could polish them up a bit. That would have to do.
I didn’t have the time or the inclination to go shopping; I hate clothes shopping. Unflattering lighting, mirrors that seemed to add ten pounds and five inches to each body part; not to mention that they never had anything for a woman my age. I was only forty-five, but I struggled to find anything I liked. All the shops I went into these days seemed to cater for either the very young – skinny jeans, crop tops and skirts no wider than a belt – or they went to completely the other end of the spectrum, obviously imagining that a woman my age must be ready for comfy slacks with a stretchy waistband and comfortable slip-on shoes. All in varying shades of grey or beige. I wasn’t quite ready to dress like my granny just yet. I wanted to dress like me, like the woman I still felt like on the inside: slightly weird, overly fond of black, not yet totally dead on the inside. That wasn’t too much to ask, was it?
I looked at the rather pitiful selection of my wardrobe, currently all over my sister’s bed. I’d picked these things for practicality rather than glamour and, boy, did it show. The clothes sat on the bed, mocking me for my lack of attention to my appearance. This would not do. I remembered seeing a beauty salon just a few blocks away and I was struck by a sudden flash of inspiration. I checked my watch; it was almost six but thankfully, in New York, that was still early enough to get your hair done. My clothes might suck but at least I could distract people with a lovely hairdo and maybe a manicure. I grabbed my handbag and headed out of the door.
Eighteen
‘You want me to cut it?’ The stylist in the hair salon had a handful of my hair and she was staring at me in the mirror.
I nodded. ‘Yes, please.’
‘Are you sure?’ The stylist looked more nervous than I did.
‘Yes, I’m sure. It’s time for a change.’
‘Well, o-kay.’ She pulled her scissors out of her pocket and cut off a piece that must have been at least six inches long.
‘No going back now,’ she said, snipping away around the back.
I felt lighter already. I’d had the same boring mid-length brown hair for the last decade and I’d had enough of it. I wanted something new. I watched her comb and snip away, seeing my hair fall in piles around her feet. I’d come in not knowing what I wanted except for something different and, after flicking through umpteen magazines, we’d settled on a just-above-shoulder-length layered bob that was shorter at the back and longer in the front. The stylist had also suggested that I should think about adding in some caramel coloured highlights to my boring brown. ‘To make your eyes really pop, y’know?’
I wasn’t exactly sure what she meant by that – it sounded painful – but either way I didn’t really have the time.
‘Not this time. I just need a quick cut and a blow dry.’
The stylist looked disappointed, so I appeased her by saying that I’d come back for the highlights when I had more time. She wrapped a black cape around me and set to work, snipping away, chopping in layers, and then she set to work with the hairdryer and brush.
‘There you go,’ she said triumphantly, when she was finished. She held up a mirror to show me the back and I actually had to suppress a little gasp; it looked amazing! I looked like something out of a fashion magazine and, whilst I wasn’t confident I could totally replicate the look myself, for tonight I was going to have a lustrous head of hair to be proud of. I stepped out of that salon feeling like a million dollars, my new hair bouncing glossily around my shoulders. I think I even started to walk differently, tossing my head and smiling at strangers as they passed, obviously in awe of my new style. That was until I misjudged a kerb and ended up on all fours in the street, with people sidestepping around me as if I were a split bin bag. I’d landed in a pile of muddy slush and now my hands were grazed, and my knees were sopping wet. I muttered a choice selection of swear words under my breath as I stood up, wiping my hands on my coat.
‘Oh, honey, are you okay?’ A familiar voice came from over my shoulder, and I turned to see Judy’s concerned face. ‘I almost didn’t recognise ya – the new hair looks amazing,’ she said, reaching out a hand to flick it away from my face.
‘Thanks, I was feeling pretty good until I face-planted into the kerb,’ I replied.
‘But you got back up. That’s the most important thing. Consider it a life lesson. It’s not about how many times life knocks you down, it’s about how many times you get back up. That’s
what matters. And you still look gorgeous.’ She linked her arm through mine and we started to walk. ‘You know, I was really impressed with the way you stepped up to help me out this morning. If there’s ever anything I can do for you, you just let me know.’
‘Thanks, Judy, that’s very sweet.’
‘I’m headed back to work.’ She pointed up the street. ‘What about you?’
‘I have to get back and get ready. I’m going to the theatre tonight and then out with a friend.’
‘Ooh, very swanky, you have fun. Will I be seeing you in the morning for breakfast or will you be having that someplace else tomorrow?’ She gave her eyebrows a suggestive wiggle and I laughed out loud.
‘I’ll see you in the morning, Judy,’ I said. ‘Where else would I go?’
‘Damn straight,’ she replied.
I watched her walk away down the street and I allowed myself just a minute to fantasise about the possibility that I might find myself waking up somewhere else tomorrow morning. Behave yourself, Evie. He’s just been dumped by his girlfriend. He’s not likely to make a move on you. Which was a relief obviously, I lied to myself.
By the time I’d made it back to the apartment it had started to snow again. Just lightly but it was enough to make me rethink my plan to walk to the subway to get the train to 42nd Street. It was almost seven o’clock; I only had an hour before I needed to be at the theatre. That gave me just enough time to have a shower (avoiding getting the hair wet, obviously) and get changed.
When I opened the door to the apartment I was surprised to hear voices coming from the living room. I closed the door behind me and walked down the hallway. My sister was sitting on the sofa, deep in conversation with a man who had his back to me. When Kate noticed me, she jumped up and her companion also stood, turning to face me.
‘Evie, you’re home,’ said Kate, nervously. ‘I didn’t know what your plans were for the day, so I wasn’t sure you’d be here.’
‘I’ve been out for most of the day. I’m just back to shower and change and then I’m going out again.’ I walked into the kitchen, putting my keys and bag onto the kitchen island before picking up the kettle and taking it over to the sink. ‘I’m making myself some tea. Anyone else want one?’ I turned on the tap.
‘Er… no… we’re good. Thanks.’ Kate lifted her glass of wine to show me. ‘Evie, this is Ryan. Ryan Farina. He’s my… we work together.’ I could see she wasn’t sure how best to introduce him to me.
‘It’s nice to meet you, Evie. Kate’s told me a lot about you.’ He stepped towards me, holding out his hand. I shook it politely.
‘Has she? That’s nice. I’m afraid she hasn’t told me much about you.’
‘Not much to tell. I’m an open book.’ He held out his hands and gave me a dazzling smile designed to charm. ‘I’m just the lucky guy who managed to catch your sister’s eye.’ He threw Kate a patronising smirk and then turned back to me. What was he expecting? Was I supposed to laugh? I didn’t. He reminded me of Dad; I wondered if Kate had noticed. All that effortless appeal, the need to be liked – in Dad’s case by every woman he came into contact with – Ryan had it too. His clean cut, square jawed appearance might have appealed to my sister, but to me he just looked like your garden variety sleazebag. With his sharp suit and designer watch, he oozed the kind of confidence that I imagined frequently tipped over into arrogance. I could feel my shoulders tensing as I did my best to smile politely. Kate came over and stood beside him; Ryan draped an arm over her shoulders and she smiled at him sweetly before turning to me.
‘Where are you going, then? You never said.’
‘I’m going to see a play. The New Holland Theatre. And it starts at eight, so I need to get ready.’ I picked up my tea and made a move towards the stairs.
‘Isn’t that Daniel Roberts’ new play?’ asked Ryan as I walked away. I stopped and turned back to face him, fake smile plastered firmly in place.
‘Yes. We’re old friends. He’s invited me to come and see it,’ I replied.
‘Wow. I’m impressed. Tickets for that are like gold dust. Everyone wants to watch him onstage with Maria Williams – they’re a couple in real life too. People are fascinated by that dynamic,’ said Ryan. Kate seemed to be hanging on his every word.
‘Fascinated by that dynamic’ – who was he kidding? He worked in finance, not theatre. ‘Yes, I’m sure they are,’ I said. ‘I’m looking forward to it so…’ I turned back towards the stairs, but apparently Ryan wasn’t quite finished.
‘Look, Evie, I know that you don’t approve but you have to understand – it’s not what you think. I have very strong feelings for your sister,’ said Ryan.
Strong feelings? After two years together, he had ‘strong feelings’ for Kate. I had strong feelings for chocolate digestives; it wasn’t enough for me to have an adulterous relationship with them.
‘It’s not really any of my business. Kate is a grown woman – she can make her own decisions.’
‘It’s important to me that you see it from my point of view. This isn’t some sordid affair.’
I looked over at Kate. How could it be that she didn’t see his resemblance to Dad? All the times he got caught cheating, he was always adamant that he’d done nothing wrong; he could always come up with a good reason, or an excuse. It was always someone else’s fault; usually my mum’s. She hadn’t paid him enough attention, or she was a nag, or there was the year that she’d refused to go with him to his company Christmas party so of course he had no choice but to shag Joyce Warren out by the bins. And now Kate had got herself involved with a carbon copy of him.
‘It’s not an affair?’ I asked, with as much politeness as I could muster.
‘No, it’s not. Not exactly.’
‘I have to beg to differ. You’re married, right?’ I asked.
‘Well, yes, technically I am.’
That made me laugh. ‘Is there any other way to be married, then? Or is there some loophole I don’t know about?’
‘No, I just meant that it’s complicated.’
‘It always is when you start to lie. I’ve always found the truth to be much simpler. Now, I really have to get ready so if you’ll both excuse me.’ I turned and walked up the stairs on shaky legs.
I felt them watching me as I crossed the room. Stupid, stupid girl, I thought. I couldn’t wait to get out of the apartment; I’d used up all my reserves of British politeness and I wasn’t sure that I could be trusted not to start yelling at them both if I hung around much longer.
I showered and changed, applying my make-up so fast I nearly blinded myself with my mascara wand twice. I pulled on my dress, fluffed up my hair and gave it a quick spritz with hairspray, before galloping down the stairs to grab my bag. Kate and Ryan were back to sitting cosily on the sofa. As I came into the kitchen Kate stood and came over to me. I really didn’t want to talk to her at that moment.
‘I have to go,’ I said. ‘I ordered a cab – it’s probably waiting for me downstairs.’ I headed for the front door.
‘Evie, wait. Please.’ Kate’s pleading voice made me turn back.
‘What is it, Kate?’
‘When will you be back?’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll be out of your hair until late. Daniel and I are meeting for a drink after the show.’
‘You’re going out with Daniel?’
‘Just for a quick drink, nothing special. Reminiscing about college, probably.’ I shrugged on my long, padded coat; I wanted to look nice, but I wasn’t dumb enough to venture out into the New York snow without a coat on.
‘Wait a minute,’ said Kate, before dashing off upstairs. Where the heck was she going? I watched with dismay as Ryan came towards me. Hurry up, Kate, I prayed. I don’t want to be left alone with this moron for too long. I didn’t think I could trust myself. He came and stood with his back against the hallway wall; he had his arms folded across his chest and he was staring at his feet. He didn’t look up when he spoke.
‘What you thin
k matters to her. You’re her sister – she wants your approval. I’d hate to be the one to come between the two of you.’
‘It won’t come to that. Kate and I are very close. She knows, when push comes to shove, I will always be there for her. Always,’ I reiterated.
‘That’s good to know.’ He paused before carrying on, ‘I do care about her, you know. And if I could be with her, then I would.’
‘If you can’t be with her, for whatever bullshit reason, and you care for her as much as you say you do, then you should let her go. Let her find someone who can give her what she deserves.’
Ryan opened his mouth to reply but he was stopped by the sound of Kate’s footsteps on the stairs. She returned holding a pair of beautiful black suede shoes that glittered slightly in the light.
‘You should wear these with that dress,’ she said, handing them to me. ‘Those boots you’ve got on look bloody awful.’
I didn’t want to think about what the shoes might have cost. ‘But it’s snowing out there,’ I said. ‘I can’t walk through the snow in these.’
‘Who’s walking? You said you have a cab downstairs. He’ll take you right to the theatre and then you’ll definitely be getting a cab home again since it’ll be late. Minimal walking required, and you get to show off those fabulous legs of yours.’
I knew this was Kate’s peace offering; we hated fighting with each other. I took the shoes and slipped them on. They did look amazing.
‘Much better,’ said Kate, coming towards me and pulling me into a hug. ‘Have a fun night,’ she whispered in my ear.
I nodded, not wanting to speak in case I started to cry, and then I turned and left the apartment.
Derrick the concierge was waiting for me in the foyer. He held the door open for me and as I passed I noticed he was still wearing the snow berries in his lapel. He gave me a bright smile and then said, ‘Nice hair, Mrs Grant, very chic.’
‘Thank you.’
‘You have a good evening, Mrs Grant.’
City of Second Chances Page 20
