B01ESFW7JE

by Cathy Bramley

  ‘Here’s my in-flight entertainment.’ Sarah grinned. ‘Ta-dah!’ She waved a small Boots bag in front of Carrie. ‘Eye mask, ear plugs, herbal sleeping tablets, caffeine tablets. Oh, and of course, hand gel. So don’t worry, I won’t be interrupting your reading!’

  ‘Won’t those pills cancel each other out?’

  Sarah shook her head. ‘Sleep on the plane, then wide awake when we get there. I am not going to miss a single moment of this trip.’ She sighed dreamily. ‘Two days, two nights and no responsibility.’

  A familiar face caught Carrie’s eye as an attractive man with fair hair approached them carrying a tray. She nudged Sarah and lowered her voice. ‘Look who’s here!’

  ‘Hello, ladies.’ Patrick smiled. ‘Jo said I might bump into you.’

  It was one o’clock in the afternoon when Carrie, Sarah and Patrick caught their first sight of Manhattan as their shared taxi retraced Jo’s route of only twenty-four hours ago.

  ‘It’s exactly as I imagined it,’ breathed Carrie, her nose pressed up against the window.

  ‘I’m so excited!’ Sarah squealed. ‘It’s gorgeous. Are you excited, Patrick?’

  He nodded modestly and then scrabbled to reach inside his pocket as his phone began to ring.

  ‘It’s Jo,’ he said, answering the call and leaning as far away from Sarah as he could. Carrie and Sarah openly stared and leaned closer.

  ‘We’re in a cab,’ said Patrick. He laughed. ‘All three of us. What? OK.’

  He held out the phone and pressed a key. ‘You’re on loudspeaker, Jo.’

  ‘HI, JO!’ yelled Sarah.

  ‘Wow, someone’s excited!’ Jo’s laugh echoed around the cab. ‘OK, here’s the plan …’

  Carrie readied herself for instructions.

  ‘Go to the hotel first and check in. Patrick, you put your stuff in my room.’

  ‘Whoo-hoo, it’s your lucky day, Patrick,’ Sarah cackled, slapping his thigh.

  Carrie pressed her lips together, watching as Patrick squirmed in his seat and turned a cute shade of pink. Why hadn’t Jo seen it? He was mad about her, it was so obvious. And they made such a lovely couple.

  ‘Control yourself, Sarah.’ Jo tutted. ‘There wasn’t another vacant room, so Patrick can have mine and I’ll share with you two, the rooms are massive anyway.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Sarah. ‘He looks really disappointed.’

  Jo went quiet. Patrick looked about ready to expire with embarrassment.

  Carrie rolled her eyes. ‘I apologize on Sarah’s behalf,’ she said. ‘She’s been popping caffeine pills like Smarties since we landed, I don’t think she’ll sleep at all this side of the Atlantic.’

  Jo laughed down the phone.

  ‘You’ve probably heard from Patrick that we’ve got a meeting to go to tomorrow, so as it’s such a lovely day, we could … Oh God, I can’t believe I’m even suggesting this … We could do the Empire State Building?’

  Carrie’s heart fluttered. The Empire State Building was the highlight of her trip. She thought she would have at least another day to work herself up to it. ‘You’re going to do it then, Jo?’

  ‘Er, well, I’ll meet you there. I’m about to go into a meeting with a footwear design studio on West Thirty-fifth, so I can walk to Fifth Avenue from here. We can have some food first, if you like?’

  ‘What about Patrick?’ asked Sarah, turning to look at him.

  ‘You’re welcome to join us?’ offered Jo.

  Carrie and Sarah nodded at him.

  ‘Thanks but no. You girls enjoy yourselves. Holly has given me a shopping list; I’m off to Fifth Avenue to find Abercrombie and Fitch.’

  Chapter 36

  Jo had booked them a table at the Heartland Brewery. It was in a prime window position, with a view straight on to Fifth Avenue. Perfect for a spot of people watching, although Sarah and Carrie had had so much to tell her about their day so far, that she had barely glanced out.

  ‘I’m so full,’ groaned Jo. ‘I’m not used to eating lunch. Not super-sized portions like that, anyway.’

  She tugged at the waistband of her flared skirt.

  What she needed now was a lie-down. After all the excitement of Patrick’s call about Mr Yamamoto, the brilliant meeting she had had this morning with a design studio and then the girls arriving, it was all starting to catch up with her.

  ‘You should have had the salad,’ Carrie said primly, dabbing her mouth with her napkin. ‘Have I got spinach between my teeth?’ She flashed them a quick look at her pearly whites and tucked her hair behind her ear.

  Sarah shook her head. ‘You’re fine. I’m stuffed too. The ravioli was to die for but I’m not sure I can move.’

  ‘There’s no rush,’ said Jo, flicking an eye over her mobile-phone screen. No calls. Not that she was expecting any; it was late evening back in the UK, the office would be closed.

  ‘Aww, hasn’t he phoned?’ Sarah teased.

  ‘Who?’ Jo knew full well who she meant; both she and Carrie had brought Patrick into the conversation at every conceivable juncture for the last hour. The poor guy; she bet they’d grilled him to death with questions at the airport this morning and in the taxi into Manhattan.

  ‘The gorgeous Patrick I’ ve-got-the-hots-for-Jo McGregor, obviously,’ said Sarah, who with her hair tied up in a polka-dot scarf, Capri pants and fitted blouse looked like an extra from Grease. She pushed her chair back until it was balanced on two legs and grinned cheekily.

  Jo rolled her eyes.

  ‘I think I preferred you when you were miserable,’ she said, only half-joking. She picked up her water glass and took a sip.

  ‘He’s flexing his credit card; he’ll be too busy to call,’ said Carrie. ‘Sarah and I were asking the concierge for directions to Fifth Avenue and he joined us to do the same. We walked up together and he disappeared in the direction of Tiffany and Trump Tower.’

  Jo spluttered and sprayed water on the remains of her lunch. ‘Tiffany? He’s going shopping for Holly in Tiffany?’

  ‘No,’ said Sarah, sticking her hand up to attract a waitress, ‘that’s just his landmark to aim for; he’s looking for Abercrombie and Fitch, opposite.’

  ‘My god-daughter has got him well trained.’ Jo smiled at the thought of Holly giving Patrick strict instructions on where to go.

  But Tiffany. Jo’s insides turned to marshmallow at the very sound of the word. The story of Ed Shaw proposing to his wife in the Heathrow branch of Tiffany popped into her head. What a let-down. Fifth Avenue on the other hand …

  Jo inhaled so much for a big sigh that her shoulders lifted a full six inches. She let the breath out and sank back into a slump. Carrie and Sarah exchanged curious glances and she felt her ears heat up.

  Surely Tiffany in New York had to be the most romantic place on the planet to get engaged? Unless, of course, you counted …

  ‘Perhaps we should give the Empire State Building a miss?’ she blurted out, wriggling in her seat. ‘It won’t be good for our digestion. All those stairs.’

  ‘Nice try.’ Carrie gave her a stern look. ‘But it’s only an elevator ride all the way.’

  ‘And the Heartland Brewery is actually underneath the Empire State Building, so technically, we’re already here,’ added Sarah.

  Jo’s stomach flipped. This was going to be harder to get out of than she thought.

  Sarah reached for her hand. ‘Won’t you feel proud if your wish comes true? You can do it, I know you can. My wish has worked out perfectly,’ she paused and pulled a face, ‘once I’d realized what it was I really wanted. And look at Carrie! She’s a different woman; she’s confident, gorgeous and a budding entrepreneur. You’ve supported us both all the way, Jo. Now we want to help your wish come true.’

  ‘Sarah’s right.’ Carrie adjusted the straps of her dress. ‘My life has improved beyond my wildest dreams. And we’re all here for each other.’

  Jo shrugged. ‘There’s no point. You know I only told you half the story about wanting
to reach the top of the Empire State Building. Being up there on my own – well, it would feel like a failure to me.’

  The last eight months had confirmed what she had already known: she was a businesswoman first and foremost. Her personal life definitely took a back seat. And she didn’t mean normal-car back seat. More like stretch-limo back seat.

  Sarah and Carrie stared back at her with solemn, disappointed faces.

  ‘We won’t go if you don’t come,’ said Carrie in a small wheedling voice.

  ‘Is that the bikini top I bought you?’ said Jo, changing the subject. She leaned forward and pulled at Carrie’s straps.

  Carrie’s face turned scarlet. ‘Shush! Yes, I didn’t have a halter-neck bra to go under this dress.’

  ‘So. What are you ladies doing next?’ The waitress beamed at them as she stooped to collect their plates.

  ‘Empire State Building,’ said Carrie, before Jo had the chance to argue.

  ‘Oh, good choice! It’s nearly three o’clock, you’ve picked a quiet time, so it shouldn’t be too crowded.’

  ‘Yes, I know, I researched it. Right, let’s go.’ Carrie dropped her share of the bill on the table and stood up. ‘Come on.’ She flapped her hands at them. ‘Up, up!’

  Jo felt like an escorted prisoner, clamped between the other two as they emerged on to Fifth Avenue. All she needed was a set of handcuffs to complete the look.

  ‘Entrance between Thirty-third and Thirty-fourth Street,’ Carrie read aloud from the guidebook, marching along as if her life depended on it.

  ‘Miracle on Thirty-fourth Street, more like, if I make it up there,’ muttered Jo, pressing a hand to her trembling stomach.

  ‘There are two observation decks,’ said Carrie. ‘The eighty-sixth floor has an indoor viewing area as well as the outdoor bit. And the one hundred and second floor is indoors only.’

  ‘Wow!’ Sarah shielded her eyes against the sun with her hand and looked up. ‘It’s massive.’

  Jo tipped her head back and followed the line of the building upwards, past row after row of windows. Carrie and Sarah gripped on to her as she stumbled, her legs weak with terror.

  ‘I feel dizzy. I can’t do it!’ She gulped at the air. ‘It’s too high. It must be halfway to the moon.’

  ‘Nearly a quarter of a mile, apparently,’ said Carrie unhelpfully, referring back to the guidebook.

  Sarah prodded Carrie in the ribs. ‘You’re not helping.’

  ‘Jesus,’ said Jo, through gritted teeth.

  ‘Are you going to be sick?’ asked Sarah, fumbling in her tiny bag. ‘I think I’ve got some Rescue Remedy.’

  Jo shook her head and headed for the wall of the building to catch her breath. ‘And there are revolving doors. I hate revolving doors.’

  ‘Jo.’ Carrie gazed into her eyes pleadingly. ‘I know it’s an irrational fear and you can’t help it. But I really, really want to go up there. I’ve been looking forward to it for months. Please. For me.’

  ‘I might fall off,’ Jo replied in a small voice. Her hands had gone clammy already and they weren’t even through the doors yet.

  ‘Impossible. There is a huge spiky fence all round the observation deck. There aren’t even any benches you could stand on and then fall off,’ Carrie explained patiently.

  ‘People might push me near the edge,’ Jo mumbled.

  ‘You are a brave, confident woman. You can do it,’ Sarah said, gripping her arm.

  ‘Can’t.’

  ‘Oh, I give up.’ Carrie folded her arms. ‘You’re a cowardly selfish woman and you’re ruining my day.’

  ‘Carrie!’ gasped Sarah, who had a handful of tissues and a nappy sack at the ready. ‘I do think you could be a bit more sympathetic.’

  Bollocks. She was going to have to do it. Jo made a vow never to make a wish in public again. Neither of them got it. It wasn’t about the bloody tower.

  Jo took in Carrie’s pouting face and held up her hands.

  ‘All right,’ she snapped. ‘I’m coming. But only as far as the first deck on the eighty-sixth floor. And I’m not going outside.’

  ‘Yes!’ Carrie beamed. ‘My reverse psychology worked.’

  For a moment, Jo thought her crab cakes were on their way back up as she processed ‘only’ in the same sentence as ‘eighty-sixth floor’. She narrowed her eyes at her friend. She wasn’t sure she liked the new assertive Carrie any more.

  ‘Good. Let’s do it,’ said Sarah, smiling nervously at them both.

  Jo felt a prickle of sweat at the back of her neck as the lift reached the eighty-sixth floor. She gripped harder on to both Carrie’s and Sarah’s hands as her stomach swooped and dived. The lift doors drew back. Carrie disappeared straight outside and she allowed Sarah to lead her gently out into the window-lined indoor gallery.

  Keep your eyes down and forget where you are.

  Her heart was pounding as she smiled at Sarah. ‘Go on, you go outside, I’ll be fine. I’ll just sit on this seat and close my eyes.’

  ‘If you’re sure,’ said Sarah, patting her hand. ‘I’ll try to keep it brief, although I’ve got a feeling Carrie might be difficult to chivvy along today.’

  Jo checked her watch again. Thirty minutes they had been out there. How long did it take to look out over four sides of one bloody tower?

  The other people in the elevator that brought them up had all left ages ago. Probably to go up to the very top. At least Sarah had popped back once to check she was OK. But no sign of Carrie. She was behaving very oddly, all jittery and snappy. Jo wished they would both hurry up. It was so embarrassing waiting on her own. It looked like she’d been stood up.

  Like Meg Ryan in Sleepless in Seattle. Oh, the irony.

  In fact, the best five minutes she’d had so far was when a tall blond Danish guy started chatting to her. But then even he left her for the allure of the outside observation deck. It wouldn’t be so bad if she had got the guts to actually look out through the glass. But every time she lifted her head from the information panel in front of her, adrenalin crashed like waves through her body.

  A beautiful Asian girl smiled at her and held out a camera questioningly, pointing at herself and her boyfriend. Jo smoothed down her skirt, pleased to be asked, and obliged. That was the fourth time she had been handed a camera. Her new demure look was definitely making her more approachable. Usually other women glanced at her cleavage and dragged their men away.

  The Empire State Building was impressive, no doubt about it, especially the art deco lobby. They had all taken photos of the gold mural. That had been her favourite part. But that had been ages ago; now she was fed up.

  With this indoor gallery and with her own company.

  The niggling thought that she had let herself down wouldn’t go away. Sarah could confidently tick her wish off the list. So could Carrie. Not that they’d seen actual evidence that she’d bared her bikini-clad body in public, but the rest – weight loss, confidence, a new business … There was no denying Carrie’s success.

  Technically, her own wish had come true. She was near enough at the top. But lurking about on her own, desperately trying to ignore the fact that she was here? Well, it didn’t feel like success.

  Jo braced herself and forced her eyes to focus on the nearest window. Through the glass, Jo watched parents hold their kids up to get a better view, groups of friends laughing as they shared the huge fixed telescopes and lovers posing for photographs. She felt nauseous just watching them.

  Bugger it. She was so jealous.

  Jo stood up and huffed and puffed crossly. What was actually stopping her from going outside? It was plainly safe; otherwise none of those people out there would look so happy.

  Maybe she could just stand a bit closer to the door?

  She shuffled her way to the exit, keeping her focus on the man in the burgundy uniform outside the door and not the view beyond. Carrie and Sarah were still nowhere to be seen.

  The liveried security man beamed at her and held the door open
.

  ‘Welcome to the top of the world, ma’am!’

  Jo smiled stiffly and clung to the open doorway.

  ‘I wasn’t … I mean, I can’t … I’m scared of heights,’ she managed to squeeze out with a wavering voice.

  ‘Well, you just stand by me and get the measure of the place first,’ suggested the man, tipping her an encouraging wink.

  Jo nodded. Sliding one foot in front of the other, she took her place next to him and pressed her back against the glass. She had made it. She was outside. A warm breeze ruffled her hair and she could feel the sun on her face. She stared down at the floor. She had never been so terrified in her life. Her breathing was ragged and her chest was heaving with the effort of controlling her panicky lungs. The oxygen must be thin up here.

  Breathe in, breathe out.

  Jo remembered snatches of the self-help book she’d read on the plane. Apparently she should try to rate her fear on a scale of one to ten.

  Right now, her fear level was ten out of ten at least.

  The security man’s presence was quite comforting, she thought, peeking at his burgundy blazer and cap. He smiled back at her and she took the bold decision to re-categorize her fear. Nine out of ten. She wondered if she could ask to hold his hand. Probably not a good idea. He seemed friendly enough, but she doubted that hand-holding was part of his duties.

  ‘You can’t come this far and not enjoy the view, can you? I mean,’ he said, chuckling softly, ‘you’d regret it for the rest of your life!’

  Jo nodded and focused on her breathing. In and out. Repeat until calm. Eight out of ten.

  The thing you would most regret.

  He was right, dammit.

  ‘I’m tired, Mommy.’ A little boy plopped himself down near Jo’s feet and her heart pinged. Oh good grief, he had scruffy dark brown hair and was the spitting image of Jonah in Sleepless in Seattle.

  ‘OK, honey,’ called a plump woman, who had a tiny baby strapped to her front in a papoose. ‘I’m right here.’

  ‘Why are you standing back there?’

  Jo glanced down to find a pair of solemn brown eyes staring up at her.