‘I hate to make so freely with the Hansel and Gretel reference, Mother,’ I hear that voice which immediately makes me smile. ‘But I’m home and I’ve brought the firewood!’
Dorothy, I notice, catches this and, looking up, instantly meets my eye.
‘He’s a good guy you know, my Mike,’ she twinkles. ‘A girl could do a whole lot worse for herself.’
‘I’m sure,’ I tell her, flushing right to my roots.
‘Know what I’m starting to think, honey?’
‘What’s that?’
‘I’m starting to wonder if it wasn’t fate that brought you to this house after all. Maybe you’re the little Christmas miracle that I’ve been praying for all this time.’
Chapter Twenty
I think I’m being matched up with Mike here; no two ways about it. Dorothy is a gorgeous, kind-hearted woman, but about as subtle as a crowbar when it comes to this kind of thing. It’s right out there for the entire afternoon, from the way she pointedly seats us side by side at dinner (‘No, Mike, you gotta sit here, keep Holly entertained!’) to the overt way she keeps quizzing me about ex-boyfriends, almost as though she were trying to figure out the type of fella that I’d normally go for. Mind you, I could save her a lot of hassle here and just tell her out straight: emotionally unavailable eejits, married men and messers, more often than not.
‘Why not just ask me?’ Harry mutters under his breath. ‘I could tell you all about her type, you know.’ Meanwhile, I just glare coolly at him and only hope neither of the others catch it.
‘Mom’s just trying to figure out whether there’s something wrong with you or not,’ says Mike, with a wink. ‘Isn’t that right, Mother?’
‘Something wrong with me?’ I ask.
‘Sure,’ he grins, sitting back and folding his arms and stretching out his long legs now, the picture of relaxation. ‘Because according to the Mothership here, the only reason anyone in this town is single is because either they’re too picky or else there’s something wrong with them.’ Then grinning cheekily over at Dorothy, he adds, ‘At least you’re always telling me that I’m too fussy when it comes to girlfriends and that’s where my problem lies, right Mom?’
‘I’m just saying you’re almost thirty-five years old,’ says Dorothy with a wise smile. ‘By the time I was your age, I was already married and I’d had you. Can’t hang around forever you know. After all, what are you waiting for anyway? For Miss Universe to walk right up to you on the street? Dream on, son.’
The chat continues on like this, all light-hearted banter and joshing, and family in-jokes that either Mike or Dorothy then take the time and trouble to explain to me. It’s a fabulous family celebration too and I end up enjoying myself an awful lot more than I ever imagined I would.
Dorothy proves herself to be a wonderful hostess, and just like yesterday, Mike really seems to go out of his way to make sure I’m royally entertained. Even Harry lightens up a bit and dons a Christmas paper hat just to get into the spirit. For whole minutes at a time, I almost see past the sullen, moody teenager who put me through such hell, and instead just see flashes of a vulnerable kid who got in over his head, that’s all.
Family, I get to thinking as Mike tops up my wine glass. It’s been so long since I had a proper family Christmas that I almost forgot what it felt like. That sense of belonging; that quick shorthand that families have with each other, all the joshing and gentle banter. Don’t think I realized just how much I missed it until now.
And there’s something else too. Dorothy. She reminds me so much of another mother from a long time ago that it’s almost uncanny. The exact same warmth, the same aura of surface strictness that belies the deep love just behind it. But if I thought this might just upset me today of all days, when God knows I’m entitled to be a big emotional mess, then I’m quite wrong. The opposite in fact; it’s almost comforting.
After dinner, they all exchange gifts and I’m kicking myself for not having had the foresight to have brought along anything with me, no matter how small a token. Mike appears to be a great man for vouchers as it happens though, and he hands Dorothy one for a spa day at Elizabeth Arden, which she squeals delightedly at.
‘You’re too good to me, son,’ she smiles delightedly, pecking him on the cheek. ‘Although maybe this gift is your subtle way of telling me I need a few facials and some of those fancy peels they got now to take a few years off me.’
‘Pleading the fifth on that one,’ Mike smiles, handing Harry another voucher, this time for the Barnes and Noble chain of bookstores. ‘So you can finally get your head out of that computer, and instead of inventing fiction, start reading it.’
‘Thanks,’ Harry shrugs. ‘Although they do sell Nooks in Barnes and Noble, so that’s still pretty cool.’
I’m just thinking that’s it then, when to my astonishment, Mike whips out another white envelope and hands it over to me.
‘And I haven’t forgotten our esteemed guest either,’ he grins over at me.
‘Wow, thank you, I’m stunned!’ I somehow find words enough to say. ‘But I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize we’d be doing this, or I would have brought gifts too.’
‘Oh please, it’s the least I could do,’ he says. ‘Open it. I think you’ll like it.’
And then I really am stunned. It’s another voucher … but this time for a skydiving session. An actual skydiving session. I flush, then swallow, then panic, petrified that he’s got me booked to do it tomorrow morning and that all the McGillises will be there to cheer me on. With cameras and iPhones, videoing the whole thing and uploading it live.
There’s just a flicker of a moment where Mike somehow seems to catch my distress because, next thing, he says brightly, ‘Course I know you’re heading home real soon, so you’ll notice the voucher is for skydiving in Ireland. Thought it might be something for you to look forward to in the New Year.’
Three faces look at me expectantly now, just waiting on my response.
‘Yes! Thank you!’ I tell them all, clamping my jaw into a rictus grin with my voice a full octave higher. ‘Amazing. Love it. So thoughtful of you. Wow.’
Mike’s black eyes stay on me for just a half-beat longer than the others, but if he’s copped on, thankfully he’s gentleman enough to say nothing. For the moment at least.
*
First miracle of Christmas. At one point later in the afternoon, I find myself on my own with Harry, when, shock, horror, he actually attempts to broker some class of a peace deal. We’ve just finished dinner and as Dorothy peels herself off to an armchair by the fire for a well-earned doze after one glass of wine too many, Mike, Harry and I all muck in to get the table cleared and the washing-up done. I’ve had wine with dinner too and am feeling giddy and a bit skittish now, as Mike challenges us to sing the cheesiest Christmas songs in our repertoire. Then suddenly his phone rings and he glances down to see who it is.
‘Aunt Millie in Seattle,’ he says, stepping out to the hallway to take the call. ‘Gotta take this, I won’t be too long.’
So now it’s me and Andy McCoy on our own, just the two of us. Certainly not quite how I’d imagined it, but there you go.
A long, protracted silence while Harry carries in yet more dirty dishes and I busy myself loading up the dishwasher, determined not to blink first. I’m just humming ‘Here Comes Santa Claus’ under my breath, when suddenly he pipes up.
‘You know something, Holly?’ he asks, and there it is, yet again, that voice. I get an instant sense-memory of the exact same tremor I used to feel every time I used to hear it, somehow magnified now that it’s just the two of us on our own together.
‘Yes?’
Try to keep a civil tongue. You’re a guest in his family home and you’ve just spent the whole afternoon wolfing back their food and drinking their wine. Remember he’s just a misguided kid, that’s all.
And it’s also worth your while to note he’s got a very cute older brother.
‘For what it’s worth,’ Har
ry mumbles, flicking a clump of black hair out of his eyes in an exact mirror image of the same mannerism Mike has. ‘I’m sorry for calling you a desperado the other night. Felt really crap about it afterwards. And not because Mike hauled me over the coals for it either.’
‘Well … ermm … thanks, for your apology,’ I say, momentarily stopping scraping dirty dinner plates and turning to give him my full attention. There’s a moment where we both just look at each other, then as neither one of us can think of anything polite to fill in the rest of the silence, I go back to scraping dishes instead.
‘Oh … and there’s something else too,’ Harry pipes up again, grabbing a tea towel and making a start on drying the pile of washed pots on the draining board.
‘What’s that?’
‘Well, I would have eventually told you everything, you know.’
I pause to really look at him now, deliberately saying nothing. After all, no harm to let him sweat it out a bit after everything he’s put me through.
‘I really was planning on telling you all along,’ he says, sheepishly looking anywhere except at me. ‘See I figured you’d realize that Andy McCoy was only ever a hoaxer anyway. So I wasn’t planning on keeping the whole pretence up for very much longer. I was just waiting for the right moment to tell you, that’s all. That’s the God’s honest truth.’
‘Well … thanks, Harry,’ I tell him. ‘I’d really like to believe that’s true. Because you know, what you put me through was downright cruel and vicious.’
‘I can see that now …’
‘That very first night when we were to have dinner and you stood me up? I’d gone out and got a blow-dry. I’d even bought new shoes. I sat all alone for a solid hour in that restaurant, with other people glaring at me for holding up a table when I’d so clearly been abandoned. I went to so much trouble – I really did think I’d found someone I had a connection with – and it’s horrifying to think that all that time, you were sitting here in your apartment just stringing me along.’
‘I know and I just want to say …’
‘You can’t treat people like that, Harry,’ I tell him gently but firmly. ‘Your behaviour came with consequences. And I only hope that my coming here is an almighty lesson to you.’
‘It is! It really is! You got a helluva shock the other day, but not as much as I did! I couldn’t believe it when you turned up on our doorstep … that you were even able to track me right to my own apartment!’
‘It wasn’t even all that hard,’ I tell him out straight. ‘Every single time you go online, Harry, no matter what the site, you leave an electronic footprint. Computers have unique addresses that can be tracked. Ditto with mobile phones.’
‘I certainly know that now,’ he says, looking hot in the face, and for the first time I think what I’m saying might just be getting through to him.
‘I came here today,’ I say, ‘because Mike asked me to give you a second chance. And I’m prepared to stick to my word.’
‘I appreciate that, I really do …’
‘But I need something from you in return,’ I tell him, locking eyes with him now, so he can’t avoid my gaze.
‘Well … sure.’
‘You’ve got to give me your solemn promise that you’ll never pull a stunt like this again as long as you’re alive. Harry, you’ve got your whole youth ahead of you! So I need to know that you’re out there treating women well. If nothing else, take that from the whole experience. Can you do that for me?’
He nods and offers me his hand awkwardly. I shake it, and for the first time, he cracks a smile.
‘I genuinely was going to come clean to you, you know,’ he says. ‘In fact, I left clues for you everywhere that Andy didn’t exist.’
‘Well instead of leaving clues, you really should have just told me out straight. Certainly would have saved me a considerable amount of bother.’
‘Yeah, but just hear me out,’ he goes on. ‘Do you remember the night we were supposed to meet at that fancy hotel you picked right in the centre of Dublin?’
‘The Shelbourne. Yeah, what about it?’ I ask, a bit puzzled now. Course I bloody well remember. Jeez, will I ever forget it? That was the night of the Government Budget and work had suddenly shot into overdrive on me out at Channel Six.
In fact when I think of myself haring into town well past midnight in a taxi, to meet up with someone who was messaging me and calling me from New York the whole time … well, let’s just say then I have to work really hard at staying cool and calm. Yet again I’ve to quickly remind myself that I’m a guest in this kid’s home and that, after all, there is such a thing as Christmas spirit.
‘Well you see,’ says Harry, ‘I figured you’d go along to the hotel bar expecting to see Andy and straight away see that he was a no-show. So you’d immediately cop on that the whole thing was a hoax, especially after all the messages I’d sent you saying I was there. But what I hadn’t planned on was that you’d get held up in work, which meant you didn’t even get to turn up until long after the place would have closed for the night.’
‘It was a horrendous thing to do you know, Harry,’ I tell him sternly now. ‘Someone could have got very hurt. As it was, I got the fright of my life seeing you the other day and realizing … well, just how young you are.’
‘I’m trying to apologize here, OK?’ he says sullenly, shoving his fists into his pockets and suddenly reverting back to being all teenagery again.
Another pause while I stand there, tea towel in hand, weighing up whether I really am ready to fully forgive him or not. But I can’t, not yet. There’s still one thing I’m just bursting to know.
‘So here’s what I can’t fathom,’ I eventually say. ‘Why? Why did you do it in the first place? You’re still at high school for God’s sake; you’re way too young for these dating sites! So why go to the time and trouble of all that messaging and emailing and Skype calls? I just don’t get it!’
He looks at me a bit sheepishly and I swear what he says next gets to me more than anything else.
‘To practise on girls, I guess,’ he says simply. ‘So I could get really good at talking to them online and over the phone. See the girls in my high school are, like, totally scary; they’re well known for eating guys like me alive. I mean, just look at me,’ he says, pulling at his T-shirt in frustration. ‘I’m sixteen years old and already I’ve gotta shop in the plus-size stores, I’ve got a mouth full of metal clamped to my teeth and zits on my face you probably can see from the space station. Not exactly king of the prom material, now, am I?’
‘Oh now come on …’ I say, a bit more softly now, but he’s not finished.
‘So you see, I figured this way I might get a chance to hone my dating skills and that in the meantime no one was really getting hurt. You lived in another country so far away and … well … believe me, Holly, I didn’t intend for it to become the runaway train that it turned into. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. Genuinely sorry. You seem like a real nice person; you deserved better.’
*
By the time Dorothy stirs from her nap, it’s just coming up to 7 p.m. and between myself, Mike and Harry, we’ve pretty much got the apartment tidied and cleared up by now. She sits up, rubbing her eyes delightedly, and thanks us all so much for helping out, then immediately starts pressing me to stay the night.
‘It’s Christmas night, honey, and you’re our guest. Besides, I can’t bear to think of you alone in some hotel. It don’t sit right with me.’
I’ve had a gorgeous afternoon though, but am acutely aware that I don’t want to overstay my welcome.
‘That’s so kind of you,’ I smile at her, ‘but you know I really should think about getting back …’ I break off as Dorothy suddenly interrupts me.
‘Tell you what, sweetie!’ she says, brightening now. ‘Why don’t you head out on the town for the evening? Mike, you could always take Holly to see The View? I can’t think of a more magical way to end Christmas night than that, now, can you?’
‘It would be my pleasure,’ Mike says as Harry chimes in, ‘Can I go too? Please, Mom, I’ve always wanted to see The View!’
‘You’re way too young to drink, so no, Harry, you can stay home and watch It’s a Wonderful Life with your old Mom, that’s what you can do.’
‘The View?’ I ask, puzzled.
‘Just go with it,’ Mike smiles. ‘And trust me, you’re in for quite a surprise.’
Chapter Twenty-One
It’s almost too magical. Not just the whole day, but this glittering, five-star event of an evening. In fact, half of me is just waiting for the grand piano to drop out of the sky and come crashing down on my head, like it normally does on C-Day if your name is Holly Johnson. Because if life has taught me nothing else, it’s this: every single time one aspect is going swimmingly, there’s an equal and corresponding disaster just waiting round the corner for me.
And you can take that one to the bank.
In the meantime though … wow. Just wow.
For a start, the streets outside the McGillis’ brownstone are now looking exactly like a Hollywood set designer sprinkled them with a light dusting of snow, just to make tonight even more like something out of a fairy tale, especially for us. It’s crisp and cold and the snow is crunchy underfoot, but Mike slips his arm lightly round my shoulders and says, ‘Gotta keep you warm, Holly!’ while we wait for a cab. Next thing, we spot one on the cross street straight ahead of us, so we make a run for it and two minutes later, he’s giving the driver an address on Times Square.
Oh sweet God, Times Square … yet another NYC revelation in itself. I’m oohing and ahhing like an over-eager puppy in the back of the cab and Mike keeps grinning at how blown away I am by the overwhelmingly huge billboards and the acres of neon lights that it’s rightfully so famous for. It’s as busy and buzzing here as you could imagine; completely impossible to believe that back home it’s actually Christmas night and people are settling down to movies, selection boxes and rows over who had the remote control last.
Meet Me In Manhattan Page 17
