by Ali McNamara
‘Jamie,’ I say, surprised to hear from him so soon. We’d exchanged numbers last night so that he could contact me when he’d arranged a meeting with Harry at the museum.
‘Hi Scarlett, sorry to call so early but I’ve spoken to my friend this morning and Harry has a free appointment at ten-thirty, if you can make it uptown to the Met by then?’
‘Erm …’ I glance at my watch.
‘Sorry it’s such short notice, but Harry’s off to Paris tomorrow for a few days to do some work at the Louvre. Can you rearrange your plans at all? I know you were thinking of heading into Central Park today. The Met is right next door.’
‘It just so happens …’ I begin thinking of Oscar, still sleeping off his hangover in his bed across the hall. ‘That could fit in perfectly with my plans this morning.’
I climb the vast wide stairs outside the Metropolitan Museum of Art and enter through the doors, avoiding getting involved with the queue to buy tickets. Now, where had Jamie said I should meet him? Oh yes, over here by these big Grecian-looking pillars. There’s no sign of him, so I stand next to them and wait. It’s nice and cool in the museum, unlike outside where the temperature is already rising into the eighties even this early in the morning. And although it’s already beginning to fill with eager tourists, there’s an air of calm and tranquillity inside its great walls, which I like.
‘Hey,’ Jamie says, as I gaze up at the ornate building’s wide ceilings. ‘How are you?’
My head drops back down. ‘Hi again. I’m good, thanks.’
‘You found it OK, then?’
I smile at him. ‘A building this size? I couldn’t exactly miss it.’
‘Yes, that’s true.’ Jamie is wearing black jeans and a white Calvin Klein t-shirt. I’m glad to see he’s dressed casually, because I’m not exactly overdressed this morning. I’ve walked all the way uptown to get here, so I’m wearing trainers, cut-off denim shorts and my Take That tour t-shirt from last year. ‘So,’ he says, looking around him. ‘Now we just have to find Harry. Ah, there she is.’
She? I turn to where Jamie is looking to see a tall, attractive blond woman walking gracefully towards us.
‘Jamie,’ she says in greeting, kissing him on both cheeks. ‘How lovely to see you again.’ Then she waits politely to be introduced to me.
‘Harry, meet Scarlett,’ Jamie says, smiling at us both.
We shake hands.
‘Lovely to meet you, Scarlett. I can’t wait to see this brooch of yours. Jamie has told me all about it.’
Harry, or Harriet I now realise, leads us through some security doors and up the stairs to her office. Then we take a seat at her very ornate and clutter-free desk. In fact, her whole office is pretty much clutter-free, as is Harriet herself. She cuts a very elegant figure in her no doubt designer, powder-blue sleeveless dress and shoes. I feel very drab and scruffy sitting opposite her.
‘So,’ Harriet says, pulling up her own chair after she’s offered us refreshments. ‘Let’s take a look at this brooch.’
I take the brooch out of my bag and hand it over to her.
‘Mmm,’ she says, examining the dragonfly carefully. ‘It’s a very good copy.’ She takes one of those magnifying eyeglasses that experts often use and inserts it into her right eye. ‘A very good copy indeed.’ She allows the glass to fall from her eye and catches it in her hand. ‘Where did you say you got it from?’
‘It’s my father’s. I don’t know where he got it from, I’m afraid. I’m going to ask him about it while I’m over here, but I haven’t had the chance yet.’
Harriet nods, still inspecting the brooch. ‘Well, I can tell you it definitely is a fake, like you were informed back in the UK. No Tiffany original would have unmatched eyes like this. But it’s a very good one. I would go so far as to say that it may even have been made by one of the same craftsmen who worked for Tiffany at the time, it’s that good.’
‘Really?’
She nods. ‘Whoever owned this may have thought it actually was genuine.’
‘Wow, so it’s definitely old then. They thought it was, back in the UK.’
‘Yes, it would have been made at the turn of the century alongside the other genuine Tiffany brooches of the time, then sold on the black market and possibly traded back into the mainstream. It’s difficult to know exactly with fakes like this. But I can tell you, even though it’s fake, it’s worth several thousand dollars.’
‘Wow,’ I say again. ‘I never thought about it being worth anything, I was just interested to know more about it.’
‘It could be worth more if you had some history with it. Anything with a proven history always sells well at auction.’ She hands me back the dragonfly brooch.
‘Thanks, Harry,’ Jamie says. ‘We really appreciate this.’
‘Anything for you, J,’ Harriet says, smiling coyly at him. ‘Give me a call sometime, yes? And we’ll have that drink you keep promising.’
‘Sure,’ Jamie says, smiling warmly back at her. ‘I’ve got your number.’
I feel a bit awkward, sitting in the middle of this flirt-off. So I glance around the room and spy a familiar couple hanging on the wall next to me. It’s a photo of Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal.
Harriet sees me looking at it. ‘Are you a fan?’ she asks. ‘It’s signed, take a look.’
I get up and walk over to the photo, and see it’s a still from When Harry Met Sally, the scene set in the museum when Harry insists they talk in funny voices for the rest of the day. Of course, that scene must be set in the Met, I’d never thought about it before. I love that film; it’s one of my favourite New York movies, and I see that yes, it is signed at the bottom by each actor.
‘My predecessor was a huge movie fan,’ Harry explains. ‘She was here when they filmed that scene in the museum. She managed to get a couple of stills signed and left me with one as a parting gift.’
‘How lovely of her. I absolutely adore that movie.’
‘Do you? I can’t bear it myself. Meg Ryan is so irritating in any movie she’s in. As far as I’m concerned, that’s a reason to stay away from the cinema if I see she’s the lead actress.’
Perhaps Harriet wasn’t so perfect after all. But then she redeems herself.
‘Would you like it? The photo. I’ve been looking for a worthy person to donate it to since I moved into this office. But everyone who works here is either too old to care or too young to remember the film.’
‘Are you sure? Won’t they want to keep it at the museum?’
‘No, she gave it to me. I’d like it to go to a good home. And any friend of Jamie’s is a friend of mine.’ She smiles at him again – and is she actually fluttering her eyelashes now? Yes, I think she is.
Oh, so that was it. She was trying to curry favour with Jamie. But if it meant I was going to get the photo …
‘If you’re sure, then of course I’d love to take it off your hands; thank you so much, it’s very kind of you.’
As we leave the Met Museum with a promise to keep Harriet updated on the brooch’s progress, and an added bonus from my visit clutched tightly in my hand in a Met Museum paper bag, we walk towards Central Park and I grin at Jamie.
‘What?’ he asks.
‘She likes you.’
‘Who, Harry?’
‘Knew who I meant then!’ I tease, pointing my finger at him.
‘Ha, you got me. Yes, I knew who you meant. I know. She’s been trying to get me to take her out for ages.’
‘Why don’t you then?’
‘She’s a fair bit older than me, for one.’
‘Is she? How old are you?’
‘Twenty-four.’
I’m surprised at this; I thought Jamie was at least my age, if not a bit older. He seems very mature for his age.
‘Did that surprise you?’ he asks. ‘It does most people.’
‘A bit, yes; I thought you were about my age or older, even. I’ve just turned twenty-six.’
‘Good of you to admit that
,’ Jamie grins. ‘Most women don’t like to. But seriously, I think the age thing comes from being an only child and living with my mother. I had to grow up fast.’
‘Yes, I know that feeling, remember.’
‘And I am one of Morning Sunshine’s younger reporters.’
‘So that’s why you won’t take Harriet out, because of the age gap?’ We’ve entered Central Park now, and everywhere you look there are people biking, walking, roller-blading or just sitting quietly, basking in the New York City sunshine. It’s just like you see on the TV or in a movie, but I’m too intrigued at this moment by Jamie to take it all in fully.
‘That, and the fact that she’s not really my type. Shall we go this way?’ Jamie asks, changing the subject and pointing in the direction of a path. ‘Where are you meeting Oscar again?’
‘Strawberry Fields.’ I take a quick glance at my watch. ‘But not for ages yet.’ I’d given Oscar plenty of time to get over his hangover before insisting he brave the bright sun of the day.
‘Great, I’ll take you for a quick tour. You’ll love Central Park. So many movies have been set here, you wouldn’t believe.’
While Jamie and I walk through Central Park, he shows me all the places that I recognise instantly from the many movies I’ve watched over the years. From classics like Breakfast at Tiffany’s and Kramer vs. Kramer, to romantic comedies such as You’ve Got Mail and When Harry met Sally. Then there are children’s movies like Stuart Little, Home Alone 2 and Enchanted (although I’ve always had quite a soft spot for this film – and for Patrick Dempsey) to comedies such as Three Men and a Baby, Crocodile Dundee and Elf. As we walk through the park the list is never-ending, as is Jamie’s quite incredible cinematic knowledge. We pause at what appears to be an old-style funfair and look down at the brightly coloured rides twirling their passengers around in the brilliant sunshine.
‘In the winter months this is the Wollman Rink,’ Jamie informs me. ‘You’ll remember it from movies like Love Story, Kate & Leopold, Maid in Manhattan …’
‘And Serendipity,’ I add, staring wistfully down at the bustling area which at the moment it is hard to imagine ever being anything so cool and graceful as a skating rink. ‘It’s one of my favourite New York movies.’
‘Of course, how could I forget Serendipity.’
‘Everything happens for a reason,’ we both say at the same time, and then we look at each other.
I grin at Jamie. ‘Don’t tell me you believe that too? It’s one of my favourite sayings.’
He shrugs. ‘Not really, but it’s a good one to choose if you’re going to believe in that kind of stuff.’
‘So how come you know so much about movies?’ I ask. ‘I’ve been impressed with your very extensive knowledge while we’ve been walking around the park.’
‘Are you taking the Michael, Miss O’Brien?’ Jamie asks, looking at me suspiciously.
‘No, not at all. I think you probably know more than I do about them, and that’s saying a lot, I can tell you!’
‘I don’t know; I’ve always liked movies, I guess, since I was small. When I was growing up I spent quite a bit of time alone because Mum would be working at night, so movies were my thing. Kept me company, I suppose. Does that sound weird?’
‘No.’ I shake my head knowingly. ‘No, it doesn’t sound weird at all. Oh!’ I look at my watch. ‘Oscar … I’m late!’ I’m about to get my phone out of my bag to text him to say I’m on my way, when I hear my name being called.
‘Scarlett, wherefore art thou, my darling Scarlett!’
What on earth?
Jamie and I both turn in the direction the voice is coming from. It’s slightly distorted, and sounds like it’s being projected over a loudspeaker.
‘This way,’ Jamie says, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the main road that encircles the whole of the park.
As we stand watching cyclists coming towards us along the one-way system that operates around the perimeter, they are joined by joggers, roller-bladers and some of the many horse-drawn carriages that take tourists for sightseeing trips around the park. And it’s from aboard one of these carriages that we hear my name being called again.
‘Scarlett, wherefore art thou?’
It couldn’t just be one of the plainer carriages that my name was being hollered from. Oh no, it had to be one of the really fancy white ones, the type that honeymoon couples hire, or that people propose to each other in. And as it approaches, dramatically hanging off the side with a megaphone in his hand is Oscar.
‘Scarlett, darling, when I’m calling yooouuu-ooohooooh,’ he sings down the megaphone.
‘Oscar!’ I wave furiously at him from the side of the road, my face flushing like a tomato.
‘Darling, there you are,’ he calls, still talking into the megaphone. ‘Whoa, Pedro! We’ve found our damsel in distress.’
The horses are brought to a halt, and as Oscar climbs down from the carriage we walk across to him on the other side of the road.
‘What are you doing?’ I demand. ‘I thought I was meeting you at Strawberry Fields. Why didn’t you just call me?’
‘I couldn’t,’ Oscar booms, still talking into the megaphone. ‘Oops!’ he grins sheepishly, reaching for the off-switch and lowering the megaphone. ‘I couldn’t,’ he begins again. ‘I came out without my phone, then when I’d sat and waited for a while I thought, in my hungover state, that maybe I’d misheard you and got the wrong place, so I decided to try and find you like this.’
‘By hiring a horse and carriage?’ I exclaim, gesturing up at the ornate contraption behind us. ‘There must be easier ways.’
‘Oh, I didn’t hire it, darling. I met Pedro in the bar last night, didn’t I, Peds?’
Pedro lifts his hat and waves from the driver’s seat of the carriage.
‘He said if I was ever by the park to pop by and he’d give me a free ride. You know I never turn down a free ride, Scarlett.’
I hear Jamie cough from behind me.
‘Hmm … and the megaphone?’ I enquire, looking down at it still clutched in Oscar’s hand.
‘There were a group of cheerleaders having a break as we trotted around, and when I told them what I was doing they said I could borrow it as long as I got it back to them as soon as.’
‘And you think I live a mad life?’ I remark, turning back to Jamie. ‘You wanna try being with this one for a few days.’
‘Ah, the infamous Jamie again,’ Oscar says, fixing Jamie with a steely gaze. ‘I should have known you’d be hanging around somewhere in the bushes.’
‘At least I’m not singing my way around Central Park in some sort of Cinderella-meets-Judy-Garland nightmare.’
‘To be compared to the fabulous Judy is the highest of compliments!’ Oscar exclaims with a flourish of his hand. ‘I thank you. Now, who wants a ride before my carriage turns into a pumpkin?’
‘Tempting though that is,’ Jamie says flatly, ‘I need to get to work.’ He turns to me now. ‘I’m supposed to be meeting Max in a few minutes to edit our piece on Fleet Week.’
‘Sure, well, thanks again for all your help this morning, Jamie. It was really kind of you to introduce me to Harry and then show me around the park with a guided movie tour like that.’
‘No worries, any time. Let me know when you find out some more about that brooch of yours, yes?’
‘Sure, I have your number now.’
‘Great, I’ll see you guys later then. Have fun in your pumpkin, Cinders,’ he says with a wave up to Oscar, who is now arranging himself back in the seat of the carriage.
‘I will, Buttons!’ Oscar waves gaily from the seat.
I roll my eyes.
‘Seriously, give me a call,’ Jamie whispers into my ear. ‘I’d like to see you again while you’re here.’
‘Sure, that would be fun,’ I reply, trying to sound casual. But as I climb up to sit beside Oscar, I feel that pull inside me. Because I know I really want to see Jamie again too. And soon.
Fourteen
After our carriage tour around Central Park, Oscar and I take a wander along to Bloomingdale’s on 59th and Lexington, and come away with more than our fair share of their infamous Little, Medium and Large Brown bags. Then we take a walk back down Fifth Avenue, stopping off at all the stores we’ve not had a chance to visit yet. After the heat of Central Park, going into those cool, air-conditioned spaces is an absolute joy, and we don’t want to leave them in a hurry.
‘So,’ Oscar asks while we’re browsing around Saks, ‘what’s going on with you and Buttons?’
‘What do you mean, what’s going on? Nothing is going on.’ I hurriedly begin examining a pair of jeans in a size that’s clearly far too small for me.
‘Scarlett?’ Oscar says, drumming his fingers impatiently on his folded arms.
‘What?’ I hang the jeans back on the rail. A year doing ‘carb-free’ wouldn’t get me into those. Actually, even a year doing ‘food-free’ wouldn’t have the desired effect.
‘I know you better than that by now. And even though you know I’m not Sean’s greatest fan, I wouldn’t want to see him getting hurt.’
I turn to face Oscar. ‘What are you talking about? Why would I hurt Sean?’
Oscar raises his eyebrows. ‘What was all the whispering before Buttons left us today, then?’
‘Nothing.’
Oscar’s eyebrows get even higher.
‘Really, nothing is going on. We just have a lot in common, that’s all.’
‘Such as?’
I explain to Oscar all about Jamie’s father.
‘So, you’re both from single-parent families,’ Oscar says with a shrug. ‘There are hundreds of thousands of you out there in the world; doesn’t make him anything special.’
‘He’s also a big movie fan like me. In fact, he’s probably an even bigger fan, if anything.’
‘Not possible,’ Oscar says, resting his hands on his hips.
‘Well, he knows enough about them. He was telling me this afternoon in great detail about the many movies that have been filmed in Central Park.’