Alice-Miranda In New York 5

by Jacqueline Harvey

  ‘I’m not sad, Thea, but thank you for asking,’ Lucinda smiled. ‘It’s nice to know that you care so much.’

  ‘Of course I care, I wouldn’t want my new friends to be in a fight now, would I?’ her southern twang was as thick as pumpkin pie. ‘Enjoy your afternoon, girls. Be careful in the traffic.’ Here she glared at Alice-Miranda. ‘Manhattan’s a dangerous place for little girls.’

  ‘Thanks for your advice, Thea,’ Alice-Miranda replied.

  Lucinda closed her locker door and headed for the front door.

  Jilly Hobbs was standing in the foyer farewelling her students. It was something she liked to do every day.

  ‘Hello Alice-Miranda, how was it?’ Miss Hobbs enquired.

  ‘Wonderful,’ Alice-Miranda fizzed. ‘I’ve made three lovely friends and we went to the Met for art class and this afternoon Mr Underwood told us that we’re having a Science fair soon.’

  ‘I’m so glad you’re enjoying yourself. Have a great afternoon.’

  Alice-Miranda had arranged to meet her parents near the front steps. They had made plans to go to the Rockefeller Center and take the elevator to the viewing platform known as the Top of the Rock, providing that the weather was clear. She had given in to her mother’s request to take the town car, but only so long as they could ride the subway later in the week.

  Alice-Miranda spotted Whip Staples outside the front of the school wearing a brightly coloured vest. Traffic duties must have been another of his jobs.

  ‘Good afternoon, Mr Whip,’ Alice-Miranda called out.

  ‘Good afternoon to you too, Miss Alice-Miranda,’ he hollered back. ‘So how did we do? Will you be coming back again tomorrow?’

  Alice-Miranda hadn’t noticed Alethea join the bus line behind her.

  ‘I hope not,’ the older girl hissed into Alice-Miranda’s ear. ‘That would make life better for everyone, wouldn’t it?’

  Alice-Miranda smiled at Whip and answered, ‘Of course. I’ve had a wonderful day.’ She turned around and looked at Alethea. ‘I’ve told you. Your secret is safe with me.’

  ‘Yes, but I really don’t think I can trust you after what you did to me last time.’

  ‘Alethea –’ Alice-Miranda began.

  ‘What did you call me?’ Alethea’s face was blood red.

  ‘Thea,’ Alice-Miranda corrected herself, ‘you have nothing to worry about.’

  A yellow school bus pulled up at the kerb. ‘Save me a seat, Gretchen,’ the older girl called out. ‘At the front. You know I get bus sick if we’re anything past the fourth row.’

  Gretchen turned around and tried to smile, hoping that the ten or so girls in front of her all preferred the rear of the vehicle.

  Alice-Miranda spied her mother standing on the other side of the street beside the town car.

  ‘Stay there, darling, and I’ll come and get you,’ Cecelia Highton-Smith called out.

  A fleet of black vehicles lined the far side of the one-way street while yellow bus after yellow bus pulled in nose to tail to collect their cargo outside the front door.

  Alice-Miranda spotted Lucinda crossing the street holding hands with a stout woman in a maid’s uniform. She decided that was probably Dolores, who Lucinda said had worked for their family for years and was one of the only people her father trusted to look after her.

  ‘Hello Mummy.’ Alice-Miranda embraced Cecelia who leaned down to kiss her daughter on the cheek.

  ‘Come on, you can tell Daddy and me all about your day when we’re in the car.’ She held tightly to Alice-Miranda’s hand and they walked towards Mr O’Leary, who was holding open the kerbside passenger door. Just as Alice-Miranda was about to hop into the vehicle, she couldn’t help but give Lucinda a quick wave as she got into the car ahead.

  Lucinda had no idea what came over her, because without thinking she raised her hand and waved right back.

  On the way to the Rockefeller Center Alice-Miranda barely stopped to take a breath. She told her parents and Mr O’Leary everything about her day. Hugh and Cecelia were so pleased that she was enjoying herself and that she had already made some friends.

  ‘You know I said that I want to go on the subway? Well, two of my friends, Ava and Quincy, catch the subway to and from school and they’ve both asked if I’d like to go home with them one afternoon, so may I?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

  ‘Darling, I just don’t know if it’s safe,’ her father replied. ‘It’s all well and good for me to take you but I’m not so sure about two little girls on their own.’

  ‘Ava and Quincy go every day on their own, although they’re not really on their own because at the end of school there are loads of other children around. Please?’ Alice-Miranda smiled up at her father, her eyes sparkling.

  ‘Oh, all right, but I want to talk to their parents first before you go off on any of these excursions, young lady.’ Hugh Kennington-Jones had come to the conclusion long ago that his little daughter was as capable as anyone he knew and once she’d made up her mind to do something there was really no point stopping her.

  ‘Mummy, you know I will be absolutely fine.’ Alice-Miranda intercepted her mother’s protest before she had time to start. ‘And can we invite Ava and Quincy and Lucinda and their parents to the opening of the store?’ she added.

  ‘Of course, darling, that’s easy,’ her mother replied. ‘You’ll have to tell us their full names and addresses so we can add them to the official guest list.’

  ‘I’m not sure.’ Alice-Miranda bit her lip. ‘I’ll find out tomorrow. Oh, except for Lucinda. Her surname is Finkelstein.’

  Her father and mother exchanged quizzical looks.

  ‘Finkelstein, you say?’ said Hugh, frowning.

  ‘Yes, her parents are Morrie and Gerda,’ Alice-Miranda explained. ‘The same ones you were telling me about this morning, Mummy, when we looking at their window displays.’

  ‘And she’s your friend?’ her mother questioned.

  ‘Oh yes, Mummy. Lucinda’s lovely,’ Alice-Miranda confirmed.

  ‘I wonder what her parents will say about you two being friends,’ said Hugh.

  ‘Lucinda is worried about that too, so she’s not going to tell them just yet. But I told her I was happy to go and speak to them as soon as she decides it’s the right time,’ said Alice-Miranda.

  Cecelia touched Alice-Miranda gently on the cheek. ‘Darling, if I know Morrie Finkelstein, he might never be happy about you being friends with his daughter.’

  Alice-Miranda and her parents rode the elevator to the Top of the Rock just as they had planned. While queuing for the lift, they had their photograph taken sitting on a steel girder, to replicate a famous picture of the workmen who built the Rockefeller Center back in the 1930s. The men were on a beam high over the city just eating their lunch as if they were sitting on a park bench. Alice-Miranda could hardly believe how brave they must have been, building skyscrapers with no safety harnesses at all. Her mother said that it made her feel queasy just looking at it.

  A light breeze had blown the sky clear and in the afternoon sun, it was a dazzling blue. Even on a Monday there were plenty of people about, taking in the views of Manhattan and beyond.

  ‘Ooh, look!’ Alice-Miranda called to her parents, who were staring out towards the East River. ‘I can see the store.’

  ‘Stand there darling and I’ll get a picture of you and Mummy with Highton’s in the background.’ Hugh zoomed in with his wife and daughter in focus. Through a gap between two skyscrapers he could see Highton’s on Fifth opposite the park. Something moving on the rooftop garden caught his eye and he adjusted the zoom to see if he could make it out more clearly.

  Hugh laughed when he realised what it was.

  ‘What’s the matter, Daddy?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

  ‘Surely we don’t look that
bad,’ said Cecelia, with a quizzical frown.

  ‘No, darling, it’s not you two. Come and look at this,’ he handed Cecelia the camera and she stared through the lens, stifling a laugh.

  ‘Well, come on, Mummy, share,’ Alice-Miranda instructed.

  Her father grabbed Alice-Miranda around her waist and held her up so she could get the right angle on the camera. Her mother held the bulky equipment for her.

  ‘Oh Daddy, its Mrs Oliver. And I think she’s dancing,’ Alice-Miranda giggled. ‘We shouldn’t be spying on her.’

  ‘Sweetheart, she must realise that she’s not doing it in private,’ her father replied. ‘I think she caught the Bollywood bug before your aunt’s wedding. Wasn’t she going to come out with us this afternoon?’

  ‘Yes, but she said that she had some other things to do,’ Cecelia smiled. ‘I hadn’t realised that dancing on the rooftop was one of them.’

  ‘Well, I think she’s gorgeous,’ Alice-Miranda replied.

  Hugh took several more photographs of his ‘girls’ standing at various points around the deck. A kindly old man, impeccably dressed in a suit and stylish trilby hat, asked if Hugh would like to stand in with Cecelia and Alice-Miranda and he would take a photograph. The trio lined up in front of the Empire State Building and grinned for the camera.

  ‘I don’t know about you two but I have to be getting back,’ said Hugh. He was itching to spend some more time alone with Nanny Bedford’s memories.

  ‘Really, darling? We said that we’d have all of our work done by three pm each day so we could spend time with Alice-Miranda,’ Cecelia reminded her husband.

  ‘I know, but something unexpected has come up and I really should deal with it,’ Hugh explained. ‘Why don’t I catch a cab uptown and you and Alice-Miranda can take a walk and Seamus will pick you up later.’

  ‘All right.’ Cecelia gave her husband a curious look. ‘Is it anything I should be worried about?’

  ‘No, no, of course not. Just some Kennington’s business,’ Hugh reassured her.

  ‘Well, miss, where would you like to go?’ Cecelia asked.

  Alice-Miranda pulled her miniature map of the city from her blazer pocket and unfolded it in front of her. ‘Looking at this –’ She ran her finger along the streets – ‘it’s only a few blocks down and two across to get to Times Square,’ she informed her parents. ‘It will be dark in a little while and I’d love to see the lights.’

  ‘That’s do-able, darling,’ her mother smiled.

  In the gift shop, Hugh Kennington-Jones purchased their ‘men on a beam photograph’ and Alice-Miranda asked if she could buy some postcards, which she intended to send to everyone back at Winchesterfield-Downsfordvale.

  The family rode the lift down to street level and Hugh bade his wife and daughter farewell, heading off to hail a cab on Madison Avenue. Alice-Miranda and her mother set off down Sixth Avenue turning right into West 45th Street, onto Broadway and towards the famous lights of Times Square.

  'Mama, do we have to go to the salon on Saturday afternoon?’ Lucinda Finkelstein was sitting under the covers in the middle of her enormous bed, her knees drawn up in front of her.

  ‘I don’t understand what you mean, Lucinda.’ Gerda Finkelstein sat on the edge of the bed and looked at her daughter.

  ‘Couldn’t we do something else? Something different?’ Lucinda had no idea how her mother would react, but meeting Alice-Miranda today had inspired her to at least ask the question.

  ‘But we go every Saturday. Afternoon tea at the salon is part of life, Lucinda, like death and taxes,’ Gerda replied.

  ‘But that’s just the point, Mama. Aren’t you bored with the salon? I mean, we meet up with the same people every week and they talk about the same things and then afterwards you always seem uptight about something that someone has said. Like last week when Mrs Schwarzkopf was going on about her daughter Emily and coming home in the car you were cross, and said that Rita Schwarzkopf never has anything to talk about unless it’s her own children who have apparently done something amazing each and every day of their lives.’

  ‘Well.’ Gerda looked at Lucinda. ‘Rita Schwarzkopf is a pain in the neck. And I don’t believe for one minute that Emily is going to be her school valedictorian. The girl is as dumb as a rock.’

  Lucinda was shocked to hear her mother say such a thing. ‘But she’s meant to be your friend, Mama.’

  ‘Of course Rita’s my friend,’ Gerda said, frowning. ‘We’ve been friends since we were six years old.’

  ‘But I thought friends were people that you actually liked and you enjoyed spending time with.’ Lucinda was fiddling with a stray curl as she spoke.

  ‘Lucinda, that’s just life. Sometimes your friends drive you crazy, but they’re still your friends.’ Gerda was beginning to lose patience. She wasn’t used to Lucinda questioning anything about their lives, let alone Saturday afternoons at the salon. ‘Anyway, your father would be devastated if he heard you talking like this. You know that he had the whole place specially remodelled based on that photograph of the salon at the Palace of Versailles that you showed him. Sweetheart, he did it all for you.’

  ‘I’d much rather see the real thing.’ Lucinda knew she was pushing her luck.

  ‘Well, that’s just not possible,’ her mother snapped. ‘You know your father doesn’t like to travel.’

  ‘But we could go to France, Mama. Just you and me, and we could visit Paris and the Palace of Versailles.’ Lucinda’s eyes lit up.

  Gerda tilted her head to one side and looked at Lucinda carefully.

  The sixth floor at Finkelstein’s had played host to a tea salon for years but recently Morrie had set about renovating the whole floor, relocating the menswear section and installing a massive ballroom which he had named The Grand Salon. The official opening was in a couple of weeks, the same day as the reopening of Highton’s on Fifth.

  ‘What has got into you, young lady?’ Gerda reached over and stroked Lucinda’s brow.

  ‘I just want to have some adventures, Mama, that’s all. Even in New York, if you’d let me,’ Lucinda pouted.

  ‘What are you talking about? You have plenty of adventures. Isn’t your teacher taking you to the Met for your art classes? I can’t imagine many girls get to do that every week.’ Gerda Finkelstein leaned down and kissed her daughter’s cheek.

  ‘What about Sunday? Couldn’t we go to the zoo?’

  ‘You know your father is allergic to animals,’ her mother replied.

  ‘But that doesn’t mean we can’t do something,’ Lucinda protested.

  ‘Sundays are family days, Lucinda, at home. Why would we need to go anywhere else – you and your brothers have everything you could possibly want right here.’ Gerda didn’t understand her daughter’s outburst at all. ‘Goodnight Lucinda.’ She walked towards to door.

  Lucinda’s room was more like her very own apartment than a child’s bedroom. As well as an ensuite bathroom, she had her own playroom and study. And what Gerda had said was true: the Finkelstein mansion had its own swimming pool and there was even a bowling alley in the basement. There was everything a person could ever want.

  Gerda hesitated. ‘Lucinda, is there someone you’d like to invite to the salon on Saturday?’

  ‘Oh, Mama, yes.’ Lucinda’s mind was racing.

  ‘I know we haven’t had the McAlisters for a while and you and little Lilli always seem to get on so well,’ Gerda suggested.

  ‘It’s not Lilli McAlister,’ Lucinda said with a frown. ‘Can I invite a new friend?’

  ‘Well, you know that will take more than a few days to arrange. It wouldn’t be for this week. Your father will have to make sure that they’re suitable and then we can send an invitation.’

  ‘I don’t understand why father has to approve my friends, Mama. Why can’t h
e trust me?’

  Gerda Finkelstein drew in a sharp breath.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Lucinda asked.

  ‘Lucinda, don’t be too hard on your father. He just wants the best for you.’ Gerda’s eyes shone and she felt the sting of tears threatening.

  ‘What’s wrong, Mama?’ Lucinda demanded.

  ‘Nothing, Lucinda. Nothing at all. Goodnight.’ She flicked off the light and beat a hasty retreat from the room.

  Lucinda’s face fell. How could she invite the one person she really wanted to? Her father would never allow it.

  Hugh Kennington-Jones had returned to the penthouse to find Mrs Oliver shimmying her way around the dining room, cutlery in hand as she set the table. He could just make out the tinny sound of sitars coming from the earphones jammed into both her ears. She twirled and shrugged her way around the table, laying place settings in time with the music, an enormous smile plastered across her face.

  Off-loading the final knife and fork, Dolly raised her arms to the ceiling and engaged in some rather fancy hand movements and then spun around mid-shoulder shrug to see Hugh grinning at her from the doorway.

  ‘Oh, sir.’ Dolly grimaced, and then rolled her eyes. She pulled the earphones out and snapped off her player.

  ‘Please don’t stop on my account, Dolly,’ Hugh chuckled.

  ‘You could have given an old woman a heart attack,’ Dolly admonished. ‘Sneaking up on me like that.’

  ‘I didn’t sneak up at all,’ Hugh protested. ‘You couldn’t hear a thing with that music in your ears. And did you know there’s a direct line of sight from the Top of the Rock to the rooftop garden here at Highton’s?’ he teased.

  ‘Really?’ Dolly Oliver asked. ‘I can’t imagine there’s anything interesting to see up there.’

  ‘I don’t know, Dolly. I think you might have been entertaining half the city this afternoon. Well, at least anyone on a floor higher than the rooftop – and perhaps a few pilots and passengers en route to JFK.’