First We Take Manhattan

by Colette Caddle

  ‘No problem,’ Krystie said happily.

  ‘Evening, all.’

  She looked around to see a beaming, well-dressed man approaching. So this was Sheila’s husband.

  He made a beeline for her, his hand outstretched. ‘You must be Krystie.’ He took her hand and then covered it with his other. ‘Philip Healy, delighted to meet you.’

  ‘And you,’ she said while really thinking how false he seemed. She watched him hug Sinéad and noticed that she didn’t seem that comfortable with her brother-in-law either. The men, however, chatted easily enough. Only Kieran looked as if he’d prefer to be anywhere else but here. Her heart went out to him. He was obviously going through a very tough time. She glanced back at Sinéad, noticing that, though she was smiling, her eyes were sad – and who could blame her?

  ‘We should be going.’ Philip smiled at Sinéad. ‘You can’t be late for your own birthday party.’

  ‘Philip, you promised low-key.’ Sinéad gave him a reproachful look.

  ‘And it is, I promise, but I’m sorry.’ He shrugged, suddenly looking vulnerable. ‘I couldn’t ignore the day.’

  ‘None of us could.’ Kieran put a hand on his shoulder and raised the other in a toast. ‘To Sheila. We miss you, darling.’

  Feeling very uncomfortable, as if she was invading their privacy, Krystie silently joined them in the sad toast. Sometimes life sucked.

  Philip hustled them outside to the waiting limo and they were whisked the short distance from Mount Merrion to the Four Seasons hotel. He explained on the way that, though they had a private room for dinner, they would have drinks in the bar first. He smiled at the girls. ‘And hopefully get these lovely ladies into the social pages.’

  It seemed unlikely to Krystie that there would be photographers hanging around hotel bars just in case someone important wandered in, but she was amazed when they arrived that a camera flashed as soon as Philip opened the door. ‘Smile, girls,’ he said and held out his hand to Sinéad. Krystie saw a flicker of panic cross her face, but Dylan whispered something in her ear. Sinéad nodded and, taking Philip’s hand, stepped out of the car and smiled for the two photographers,

  ‘Your turn,’ Max said to Krystie with a reassuring smile.

  Philip posed with the two of them while Max, Dylan and Kieran stood in the background looking on. At first Krystie felt awkward, and then she remembered that this was the break that she had dreamed of for years and, letting her wrap slip down, she looked back at Max as if she were asking him something. Immediately there was a rapid clicking of camera shutters.

  Max smiled down at her and touched her cheek. ‘Smart as well as beautiful. I think I could fall for you, Krystie Kelliher.’

  She stared into his eyes, mesmerised. ‘That would be a really bad idea,’ she murmured, but smiled to take the sting out of her words.

  ‘Enough,’ Sinéad muttered, ‘let’s go.’

  Krystie tore her gaze from Max, waved at the photographers and hurried after Sinéad.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Krystie stopped and stared in the doorway of the crowded lounge. ‘Is everyone here going to the dinner?’ she asked Max.

  ‘Who knows?’ He grinned and, taking her hand, led her through the crowd, pausing every so often to say hello and to introduce Krystie as Sinéad’s new designer. Finally, they found Dylan and Kieran sipping yet more champagne. Philip stood in a group of people a short distance away, Sinéad at his side. Krystie accepted the glass that Max offered her, but she was more interested in drinking in the gowns on the women around her than anything else. It was disappointing that she and Sinéad were the only ones wearing headpieces. Sinéad saw her and immediately came over, looking tense.

  ‘Come on, Krystie, time to work. There are lots of rich women here we need to show off that braid to. Besides, if you’re with me it might stop them asking me how I’m bloody feeling. Such a stupid question. How the hell do they think I’m feeling?’

  ‘Sure, sorry, I didn’t think.’ Krystie was alarmed to see tears in Sinéad’s eyes. She looked around to tell Max, but he was talking to a very pretty woman who was gazing adoringly up at him. Krystie turned quickly away before he spotted her watching them.

  ‘We’ll take a wander around the room and then Philip promises we’ll be going in to dinner,’ Sinéad told Dylan and her dad.

  ‘Why don’t we go to the bar and get a pint, Kieran?’ Dylan suggested.

  ‘Now you’re talking,’ Kieran muttered.

  Sinéad led Krystie back towards Philip’s group and immediately he drew Krystie forward. ‘People, allow me to introduce Krystie Kelliher, Sinéad’s new protégée.’

  Krystie shook hands with each of them. Smiling, she made a point of turning her head, a few times, earning a nod of approval from Sinéad.

  ‘I love your hair,’ one woman said. Her own was pulled into a severe knot on the top of her head. ‘It must have taken hours to do. I just don’t have the time.’

  ‘It didn’t take long at all,’ Krystie told her. ‘The braid is a hairpiece.’

  ‘And she made the jewelled ribbon herself,’ Sinéad chimed in.

  ‘Wow, that’s amazing. I’ve bought a couple of fancier grips to try and make my hair look better but they never look this good. You should stock them.’

  ‘We’re closing the shop due to the increasing orders from retailers but you will still be able to come to our wonderful new studio next door. Krystie is creating a whole new range of simple pieces like the ribbon that she’s wearing, and they should be available in all the main department stores early next year.’

  I am? They will? Krystie was very impressed at Sinéad’s exaggerated spiel, but the women seemed impressed. She quickly smiled and nodded. ‘Yes, they’ll be easy to fit and more casual-looking, but fun.’ She shot Sinéad a grateful look as she realised that she’d said the range would be Krystie’s. A waiter tried to top up her glass but she shook her head and put her glass on his tray. She was drinking it far too quickly and on an empty stomach. She wanted to remain sober and enjoy every moment of her first outing as a designer.

  The group had broken into male and female and more women joined them full of compliments at Sinéad and Krystie’s headpieces. Krystie felt a thrill of excitement. Who knew when she was struggling to gather together the fare to fly home that she would be employed and the centre of attention just a few weeks later? It was surreal.

  A member of staff came and whispered something in Sinéad’s ear. ‘Dinner’s ready,’ she announced and they all started to move towards the dining room. Dylan materialised out of nowhere and snaked an arm around Sinéad’s waist, pulling her tight to his side. Krystie watched them. She really wished he didn’t remind her so much of Jacob. From behind they looked so similar. Dylan moved like a man comfortable in his own skin, had the same slender build and dark, close-cropped hair. Had Jacob ever looked at her the way Dylan looked at Sinéad? She didn’t think so. Strange, she was so sure that if her moment of fame came he would be with her to share it. She was pulled back to the present by a hand on her bare back.

  ‘Come sit with me and I’ll protect you from the madness.’

  She looked up to see Max and smiled gratefully. She could never be called the shy type but she did feel a bit intimidated tonight. She’d wager that every other woman here was kitted out head to toe in designer gear. She was grateful that, though her sandals were second-hand, they were a respected upmarket American brand. She hid her bag under her seat. At least her dress couldn’t be judged by its label and it looked as good as, if not better than, most of the gowns on the women around the three tables. Her eyes were drawn to Sinéad. Despite the muted colour of her dress, she stood out, her bare neck as flawless as the beautiful necklace around it. Her blonde hair made her look younger and much prettier, despite the anxiety in her eyes.

  They were about to take their seats when Max took her hand. ‘Wait, I want to show you something.’ He led her between the tables to the display of photos at the other end
of the room. Though Sinéad was in many of the shots, this was really a shrine to Sheila, her beloved twin. There were photos from childhood right up to a still from their TV appearance. One photo caught Krystie’s attention. It was of the sisters when they were about ten. One had her head thrown back laughing while the other stared solemnly into the camera. ‘Which is which?’ she asked Max.

  He chuckled. ‘Oh, that’s Sheila wearing her mammy face.’ He pointed at the more sober-looking child.

  She looked up at him. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Our mother died twenty years ago when the girls were nine and I was seven,’ he explained. ‘Sheila was the bossy sort and apparently tried to take over. Sinéad says now that it was as if she wanted everything to be exactly the same as when Mum was alive. I suppose it was her way of coping with the loss while Dad went to pieces and Sinéad cried all the time.’

  She stared at him, lost for words. They’d lost their mother and sister? ‘What about you?’ she said eventually.

  ‘Once I was fed I was happy,’ he said with a grin.

  Krystie didn’t buy that but didn’t push it. This was heavy stuff and she barely knew the guy.

  ‘My aunt, Mum’s sister, moved in to look after us,’ he continued, ‘but she wasn’t used to dealing with kids. She didn’t really know what to make of us.’

  ‘Is she here tonight?’

  He shook his head. ‘She’s in a home, premature dementia.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Me too. She might have been better able to deal with Sinéad and Dad than I am. Still, Sinéad has perked up a lot since you arrived on the scene.’ He smiled at her. ‘Perhaps you’re our good-luck charm.’

  ‘What happened to your mother?’ she asked as they moved on to look at a group of photos that were obviously taken when the shop had opened.

  ‘She drowned.’

  She stopped and stared at him.

  ‘It was an accident,’ he added hurriedly. ‘We used to take a mobile home down in Kilmucridge for the summer. Dad would come down for the weekends. Once we were asleep, Mum would go for a swim – she loved swimming. One night she didn’t come home. Her body was washed up a few miles down the coast a couple of days later.’

  ‘Jeez, you guys haven’t had it easy, have you?’ Krystie said, shocked.

  Max shrugged but his eyes were sad. They were moving on to the next montage of photos when waiters emerged from the kitchens with the starters. ‘Come on, let’s eat.’

  But she barely heard him, her eyes riveted to a photo of the twins sporting knitted hats pulled low over their eyes.

  ‘What?’ Max frowned.

  ‘Oh, it’s just that in this one they’re impossible to tell apart,’ Krystie murmured, her eyes still locked on the photo.

  ‘I often couldn’t tell them apart when we were kids until they spoke. It was much easier when they got older as they had very different styles, but they could still fool people when they wanted.’

  Philip stood and tapped his fork against a glass for attention and Krystie allowed Max to lead her back to their table.

  ‘Friends, I won’t make a big speech but I just wanted to say thank you for being here tonight to join us in celebrating Sinéad’s birthday and taking the opportunity to remember and honour Sheila.’

  He paused and looked down, and Krystie couldn’t help feeling that it was all for effect. She looked around the room but everyone seemed captivated and you could have heard a pin drop.

  ‘It has been a terrible time for our family and we wouldn’t have got through it without each other or without good friends. So please join me in toasting Sinéad – ‘ he raised his glass – ‘and Sheila, wherever she may be.’

  Everyone stood and echoed the toast. Sinéad remained in her seat with her head bowed.

  Wherever she may be. Krystie thought of a woman staring at a window display in Manhattan, and she stared at her boss.

  She could see Dylan murmuring into her ear but Sinéad was staring into the middle distance with a blank expression.

  ‘Don’t you like the seafood?’ Max asked.

  She picked up her knife and fork. ‘Yes, lovely.’

  He frowned. ‘You’re very quiet. Is there something wrong?’

  ‘I just feel a bit uncomfortable. This is a dinner for friends and family. I really shouldn’t be here.’

  He laughed. ‘Friends? Are you kidding? These aren’t friends: they’re business contacts. Philip has either invited them because politically they can be of use or they’re potential clients for Sinéad.’

  ‘That sounds very cynical. Don’t you like him?’ Krystie asked as she made a half-hearted attempt to eat. Somehow her earlier hunger seemed to have deserted her.

  ‘Sure I do. I’m just saying this is more business than pleasure.’

  ‘Do you think Sheila was happily married?’ He gave her a sharp look. ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘No reason, just curious.’

  ‘Yes, I think she and Philip were very close.’

  Krystie smiled, but in her head she was back in Manhattan in front of a store window staring into the sad eyes of a woman. A woman she was now convinced was Sheila Fields.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘Well, I know what my excuse is. What’s yours?’

  Krystie looked around and gulped when she saw Kieran Fields leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette. ‘Too much expensive champagne,’ she lied, smiling. ‘I’m only used to cheap plonk.’ In reality the shock of her realisation had driven her outside, despite the cold, to get some fresh air and try to think. Meeting Sinéad and Sheila’s father was the last thing she’d expected or needed.

  ‘It’s far from champagne that lot were reared on.’ He smiled at her. ‘Are you settling into the job okay?’

  ‘Yes, thanks. I love it.’

  He smiled again. ‘That comes across. It’s good for Sinéad to have someone working with her again. She’s not used to being on her own, needs company. ‘ He stubbed out his cigarette and tossed it into the grass. ‘I suppose I’d better get back in there. Coming?’

  She followed him inside and took her place next to Max just as the main course was being served.

  ‘I thought you’d got fed up and gone home, not that I’d blame you,’ Max remarked.

  ‘No, of course not.’ She smiled at him. ‘I got talking to your dad.’

  Max raised his eyebrows. ‘Then you really are a lucky charm. The man has barely opened his mouth since Sheila’s death.’

  Krystie took a quick look around. The other people at their table were engrossed in conversation. ‘You’re the only one who ever uses the word “death” when we talk about Sheila. Why is that?’

  ‘Because I’m the only one willing to face facts,’ he said, sounding resigned and fed up. ‘I loved my sister, Krystie, but she’s dead and gone and we just have to get on with it. Dad and Sinéad won’t accept that. Despite the fact that every lead has ended in a cul-de-sac, they still hope, and it’s destroying them.’

  This was it. This was her opportunity. And who better to talk to than Max? She could tell him what she had seen that day in Manhattan and then he could decide what to do. She’d just opened her mouth when the woman on his other side put a hand on his arm.

  ‘Max, we must set up a meeting soon. I really need your advice. Perhaps over lunch some day?’

  Krystie sighed both at the interruption and the woman’s rather obvious come-on. It seemed Sharon was right: Max was certainly popular with the ladies. She pushed her food round the plate and glanced over at Sinéad. She was smiling and nodding at a woman chattering away to her and Dylan while Kieran sat in silence sipping his pint. As for Philip, he seemed in great form altogether. Shouldn’t tonight be as hard for him as it was for Sinéad? Exactly how happily married had Sheila and he been? Was he the reason she’d left? But how could she do it to the rest of her family? Krystie knew she was far from being a perfect daughter, but she couldn’t imagine being that heartless. Her eyes returned to Kieran
. God, he looked so miserable and broken. No, she definitely couldn’t do that to her dad.

  Everything Krystie had heard about Sheila had been positive. She’d mothered them, cared for them and basically been the centre of the family. They would be thrilled to hear there was a possibility that she was alive – but was it up to Krystie to tell them? She sighed heavily.

  ‘Hey, what was that for?’ Max whispered in her ear. ‘Aren’t you enjoying yourself? You should be. Everyone’s watching you. You’re the most beautiful woman in the room.’

  She shivered at the desire in his eyes. ‘I’m fine, just feeling a bit overawed. I’ve never been in a room so crammed with rich people.’

  ‘You’re just as good as them – no, better.’

  Out of the corner of her eye Krystie saw Sinéad hurrying out of the door. ‘Excuse me. I just want to check in with your sister and see who she wants me to chat up after dinner.’

  He smiled in approval. ‘Good girl. I think you two are going to make quite a team.’

  Krystie was surprised to find the ladies’ room empty. She reapplied her lipstick, tucked a few hairs back into place and was about to leave when she heard sniffling coming from the disabled toilet cubicle at the other end of the room. She hunkered down and recognised Sinéad’s high heels. She knocked gently. ‘Sinéad?’ The sobbing stopped abruptly. ‘It’s Krystie. Are you okay?’

  After a moment the door opened and Sinéad pulled her inside. ‘Lock the bloody door. I can’t let anyone see me like this.’ She sat down on the lid of the toilet, grabbed a handful of loo roll and started to dab at her eyes. ‘Am I a mess?’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll fix your makeup before we go back in,’ Krystie said. ‘Take a minute. It’s only natural that you’re finding this tough. To be honest, I think it was very brave of you to agree to it at all.’

  Sinéad sighed. ‘Oh, Philip can be bloody persuasive and I haven’t been particularly nice to him lately, so I felt I should.’

  ‘Why haven’t you been nice to him?’ Krystie asked.

  ‘I suppose I just find it hard watching him carry on as normal. Still, we all deal with grief differently.’