City of Second Chances

by Jane Lacey-Crane

  ‘You okay, miss?’ asked the American champion sneezer beside me. ‘You look awful pale.’

  ‘I’m fine. Thank you,’ I snapped, watching the seat belt sign above my head, willing it to go out.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, we apologise for the delay. We’re just waiting to be directed to a gate. The plane is still in motion, so for the time being we will need all passengers to remain in their seats with their seat belts securely fastened. Thank you.’

  ‘Oh, God,’ I groaned. Rachel cracked open her fourth mini bottle of gin and, foregoing the tonic, downed it in one.

  ‘Atchoo!’ said the man next to me, pulling out his handkerchief and blowing his nose, hard. ‘Damned recycled air,’ he declared. ‘Full of germs.’

  I bit back the urge to yell, ‘No shit!’ in response. Instead I smiled sweetly and went back to staring at the seat belt sign.

  After about twenty minutes, the plane finally arrived at the gate and the doors were opened. Rachel and I waited patiently as the woman in the seat next to us pulled her hand luggage down from the overhead locker and fiddled about putting her glasses and book away. Eventually we made it off the plane and down the tunnel into the terminal. As we turned into the customs hall I wanted to cry – and I don’t mean just shed a discreet tear, I mean I wanted to lie down in the middle of the crowd and throw a tantrum like a toddler. The hall was packed with people, all shuffling obediently forward like sheep in a pen.

  ‘I just want some fresh air and a shower,’ I wailed. Why was I doing this? Why had I dragged my arse all the way across the Atlantic to remember someone who’d been gone for twenty-two years? So stupid and impulsive, I admonished myself.

  ‘There’s no point stressing. Just get in the queue and don’t get us arrested,’ said Rachel, nudging me gently forward. ‘Actually, forget I said that. Make as much fuss as you like then maybe that one over there will have to strip-search me. Look at him.’ Rachel gestured over to the far wall where a tall muscular man in a dark blue uniform was standing surveying the crowd.

  ‘Pervert,’ I said.

  ‘You know it,’ she replied.

  It took us about half an hour to make it to the front of the queue. I waited patiently until a burly official, sitting behind glass, motioned for me to step forward. I immediately started to feel guilty for no reason. He took my passport without even looking at me.

  ‘Welcome to the United States. May I ask the purpose of your visit?’

  ‘Um… holiday, I mean vacation,’ I stuttered. He looked up at me. Did I look nervous? I felt nervous. Why did I feel nervous? Just calm down, Evie.

  ‘Where will you be staying during your visit?’

  ‘With my sister. At her flat, I mean, apartment. Sorry.’

  ‘She is a resident of the United States?’

  ‘Yes. Has been for about three years. She works for a big bank, she’s a hedge fund manager. Started as a trader and worked her way up…’ I gabbled on. Shut up, Evie, he doesn’t want to know all that. He peered at me above his glasses, which were perched on the end of his nose. ‘Hedge funds, huh?’

  ‘Yes. I don’t really understand it but she’s very good at it, apparently.’

  He just nodded. ‘And how long will you be staying?’

  ‘A week,’ I squeaked. ‘Just a week.’

  He nodded again, then typed something into his computer. Out of the corner of my eye I could see that Rachel had already been allowed through. I started to panic; what was the problem? What if they didn’t let me in? What if they threw me in jail? I could feel sweat forming at my hairline. Calm down, Evie, just breathe. The customs official closed my passport and handed it back to me. ‘Enjoy your stay. Next!’ I jumped as he shouted for the next person in line behind me.

  ‘What the heck was all that about?’ asked Rachel as I joined her.

  ‘I don’t bloody know. Let’s just find our driver and get out of here. I’ve had enough of airports for one day.’

  ‘Amen to that,’ said Rachel, and we headed for the exit.

  *

  My feelings of stress and anxiety lasted for as long as it took us to make it out of the airport. Once we were settled in the back of the car my sister had arranged for us, I began to feel the excitement of being in this amazing city again. Even the highways we were on for the first part of the journey looked completely different. With their oddly spaced groups of bright yellow plastic cones, to the unfamiliar logos on trucks, it was easy to spot that you weren’t on the M25 circling London. I was in New York, the most exciting city in the world, and I felt fantastic. I was fizzing with excitement, pointing out of the window to everything and anything of note. ‘Look, a yellow taxi!’ ‘Look a real New York City police car!’ I think the driver got a bit sick of me asking questions. ‘What’s that building? When will we see Manhattan? Is that Manhattan?’

  ‘Can’t you remember all this from last time?’ asked Rachel, after I’d asked my umpteenth question.

  ‘Some of it. But it has been over twenty years, Rach.’ I turned my attention back to the window, eager not to miss anything. I felt like a big kid, full of joy and enthusiasm. I was surprising myself. I heard Rachel’s phone buzz and she pulled it out of her bag to check her messages. I kept my attention on the view; I didn’t want her to feel like I was watching her.

  ‘It’s Martin,’ she said, eventually. ‘Hoping that I had a nice flight. Should I message him back?’

  ‘Of course. He just wants to know you’re all right. And I’m sure Sean will want to know too.’

  She nodded. ‘I suppose.’ She tapped something into her phone; within seconds it buzzed again. She read the new message and then shook her head sadly. I could see she was trying to hold back tears.

  ‘What did he say?’ I asked, turning in my seat to face her.

  ‘That he loves me and he’s sorry about everything that’s happened.’

  ‘That’s good, isn’t it?’ I asked. ‘You still love him too, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes. Which is really fucking annoying, to be honest. I want to hate him. This would all be so much easier if I hated him.’ She pulled a tissue out of her sleeve and wiped her eyes. I gave her a hug.

  ‘Everything’s going to be all right, Rachel. You just need a bit of time to…’ I stopped mid-sentence. We’d reached the Williamsburg Bridge. Out of the window, as we crossed the murky East River, I caught my first glimpse of Manhattan. The sight of the Empire State Building, rising out of the mass of shapes, made my heart soar. It was amazing to be back here again. After Olivia’s disappearance, I’d sworn that I would never come back. I hadn’t thought that I would be able to cope, and yet, here I was. I was proud of myself for making the decision to return and eager to try out this newly positive version of me. I was in a different city; I could be whoever I wanted to be. I turned my attention back to Rachel.

  ‘We’re here for Olivia. If they have found her, then we can finally take her home and give her some peace. That’s our job right now.’

  ‘And what if it isn’t her? What then?’

  ‘We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,’ I said.

  We made the rest of the journey in silence, both of us lost in our own thoughts. I saw Rachel tap out another message that I presumed was to Martin, before she put her phone away. I kept my attention on the city passing by outside. What if it wasn’t Olivia? Rachel’s comment had made me think. All the newspaper reports I’d read had given the impression that one of the bodies that had been found was her. I had no reason to think otherwise. As horrible as it was to think about what might have happened to her, at least we would finally have some closure. No more wondering, no more imagining what might have happened; we would have concrete evidence. But if they were wrong then Olivia would still be missing. How would that feel?

  ‘Here you go, then, ladies. Madison Street. Three Seventy-Two – just on the right.’ The driver pulled slowly up to the kerb and I got my first look at where my sister had been living for the past three years. She’d sent
me a few pictures when she first arrived, but they really didn’t do the building justice. It was a very smart looking grey stone building, complete with ornately carved corbels and a rather impressive entranceway. The building had obviously been something else in a former life, before it was home to finance whizz kids and other trendy types. I climbed out of the car and stood on the pavement in front of the building, squinting my eyes at the sun as I looked up. Our driver came and put my bag down on the pavement next to me.

  ‘Hard to believe this used to be an elementary school. Now it’s full of apartments.’

  ‘Oh, no, what happened to the kids?’

  ‘They moved the school to another part of town, somewhere the price of real estate wasn’t so high.’ He shook his head and then lingered by me. I wasn’t sure what he was waiting for until I remembered where I was. This was America; the land of the generous tip.

  ‘Oh, God, sorry, yes. Here.’ I fumbled around in my bag until I found my purse and I pulled out what I hoped was a five dollar bill. That was the other thing about being in America – all their bank notes were the same bloody size and colour. I could have given him a fifty dollar bill and not known the difference. His slightly underwhelmed expression was reassurance enough that I hadn’t made that mistake. Rachel pulled out another five dollars and thrust it into his hand.

  ‘Have a great stay, ladies,’ he said, before climbing into his car and driving away. Rachel looked up at my sister’s building and whistled.

  ‘Blimey, she’s doing all right for herself, isn’t she?’

  ‘It certainly looks that way.’ I couldn’t believe I’d been worried about being in a cramped apartment; this place looked amazing.

  We walked over to the glass entrance doors and pushed them open; we were greeted by the sight of more marble and glass than I’d ever seen before in one place. Above us hung a light fitting that looked like a Sputnik satellite, glistening with geometric glass shapes hanging from chrome rods that jutted out at all angles. The walls and floor were covered in pale grey marble that had been polished to a shine so high it was almost dazzling. A man dressed in a light grey suit was standing behind a desk – more marble – that ran along the far wall.

  ‘Good afternoon, ladies. Welcome to The Madison. How may I help you today?’ I saw him take in our slightly crumpled appearance. He must have thought we were lost. I pulled back my shoulders and lifted my chin in an attempt to convey confidence and walked over to his desk.

  ‘We’re here to see my sister, Katherine Michaels. She lives here.’

  The man looked down at his shiny laptop and tapped a few keys.

  ‘Is she expecting you?’ he asked without looking at us.

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  A bit more key tapping followed. I’m pretty sure he wasn’t actually typing anything, just trying to make himself look important. Eventually he looked up.

  ‘Ms Michaels isn’t here at the moment and she hasn’t left any instructions that she was expecting guests. You’ll have to take a seat and wait, I’m afraid.’ He gestured to two armchairs clad in silver-grey velvet; they looked as if they’d never been graced by a human bottom. They were immaculate, just like everything else in this lobby. Where the hell was Kate?

  Rachel and I dragged ourselves and our suitcases over to the chairs. I lowered myself down gently; they might have been stylish, but they were bloody uncomfortable.

  ‘Where’s your sister, then?’ whispered Rachel.

  ‘Who knows? She said she’d be here when we arrived.’

  The man on the desk was eyeing us cautiously. I wondered what he was expecting us to do. We were two respectable middle aged women, not a couple of unwashed backpackers. I gave him my best sarcastic smile and he turned his attention to a young woman in running gear who’d just entered the lobby. It was hilarious watching him practically fall over himself to press the button on the lift for her. Bloody typical, I thought. If you were twenty and could pull off wearing workout gear as everyday clothing – ath-leisure wear, I believed it was called – the world was full of people just dying to do things for you. I suddenly felt very frumpy and very old. This was unlike me; on the whole I was fairly happy with myself. Could I do with losing a few pounds and doing some more exercise? Yes. Should I probably try and lay off the midweek drinking at home alone? Probably. But, by and large, I was happy with me just the way I was. If you could ignore the fact that I rarely went out, hadn’t had sex for a decade, and hated every minute I’d spent at work up until the day I quit, then you might say I had a reasonably good life. No point in complaining, it was what it was, and, since it could all be taken away from you in an instant, I’d resolved to be grateful for what I had. And most of the time I was. Okay, maybe not ‘most’ of the time, perhaps ‘some’ of the time would be a more accurate assessment. Anyway, you get what I mean.

  ‘Evie!’ My sister’s high pitched squealing of my name rang across the foyer and seemed to bounce around the highly polished space for an eternity. The man behind the desk looked up and I gave him a smug ‘See? I wasn’t making it up’ type face.

  ‘Oh, my God, I can’t believe you’re actually here!’ She flung her arms around me, nearly knocking us both to the ground with her enthusiasm. ‘And Rachel! Get in here!’ She grabbed Rachel by the arm and pulled her into our group hug.

  ‘Everyone’s looking at us,’ I said to my sister. An elderly woman who was clutching the world’s smallest and ugliest dog was giving us some very disapproving looks and my new friend behind the desk was shaking his head as he typed something else into his computer.

  ‘Fuck ’em,’ said Kate. ‘I haven’t seen you for so long, I’m entitled to make a bit of a fuss. Let’s get up to my apartment and start drinking, shall we?’ She raised the handle on my suitcase and guided us over to the lifts. ‘Derrick, my sister and her friend are going to be staying with me for the week. If I’m ever not here, you have my permission to let them into my apartment. Okay?’

  ‘Of course, Ms Michaels. Anything you say.’

  ‘Excellent. Afternoon, Mrs Pemberton,’ Kate said to the elderly lady with the ugly pooch. ‘This is my big sister. She’s come all the way from England to visit me with her lovely friend, Rachel. Isn’t that nice?’

  The old lady mumbled something I couldn’t hear and then left the building.

  ‘Miserable old bitch. She’s a nightmare. Always complaining about one thing or another. And that dog of hers is a menace. Don’t be fooled, he may be small but if you get too close he’ll have your face off. Oh, it’s so good to see you!!’ Kate hadn’t come up for air in the last few minutes and neither Rachel nor I had been able to get a word in edgeways. Kate had always been a touch hyper, but this was a bit much, even for her.

  ‘Kate, are you all right? You seem a bit… keyed up.’

  ‘What? No, no, I’m fine. Really. I’ve been awake since 3 a.m. so I might have had a bit more coffee than I should. I was just so bloody excited for you to get here.’

  The lift doors opened – more marble with the addition of a large gilt framed mirror on the back wall – and we stepped in. Kate tapped the button for the third floor and waited for the doors to close.

  ‘Our driver said this building used to be a school. Is that true?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, I think so. Up until about ten years ago. James Madison Elementary.’

  ‘Wow. I’ll bet it didn’t look like this back then,’ said Rachel, running her hands along the heavy gilt edge of the mirror. I thought of all the kids walking around the hallways, making friends and enemies, reading in the library or playing outside. The romantic in me was just a tiny bit sad that all that joy and exuberance had been replaced by pristine marble and echoing silence.

  Eventually we reached the third floor. Kate got out and walked ahead, leading the way to her front door. She slid her key into the lock and turned it but before she opened the door she stopped and turned to face Rachel and me.

  ‘Now, don’t be too disappointed. It’s not much, it’s qu
ite small and it’s a bit of a mess because Magda hasn’t been in to clean yet.’

  ‘You have a cleaner?’ asked Rachel.

  ‘Yes, but she only comes in once a week and she’s not due until tomorrow, so it might be a bit untidy.’

  I smiled. I knew my sister, she was a total neat freak. Her idea of untidy would no doubt mean there was a pile of magazines on the coffee table and an unwashed mug in the sink.

  ‘Okay, you’ve warned us. Now, let me in to your shithole of a flat because I really need the loo,’ said Rachel, hopping up and down. ‘You can’t make a woman of my age wait for a wee!’

  Kate pushed open the door and then stepped back to let me and Rachel inside. There was so much white and so much light, it was amazing. The short hallway had an open staircase made of glass and wood running up the wall to my left, but it was the view in front of me that took my breath away. The hallway led into a room with a high ceiling and double-height windows along the wall.

  ‘Bloody Nora!’ exclaimed Rachel, coming into the room behind me and dropping her bags with a thump. ‘This is like something you see on the telly. Kate, it’s amazing.’

  My sister came in and threw her keys onto the countertop behind us that separated the main living space from the galley kitchen. I turned and saw a row of shiny appliances, with a small kitchen island in the middle.