‘Well, the thing is,’ he says, ‘I want where I’m taking you tonight to be a complete surprise. And it’ll be all the more so if you just trust me. Can you do that?’
I nod. Because of course I trust Mike: how could I not?
But two seconds later, I’m starting to instantly regret it, when smiling enigmatically, he quickly slips the silk scarf over my eyes like a blindfold.
‘What the hell are you playing at?’ I laugh, immediately going to pull it off, but he gently grips my hands, kisses them lightly and pulls them into his.
‘Just trust me, Holly Johnson. Remember, it won’t be a proper surprise if you can see where you’re going.’
Right. I’ll give this all of five minutes max, I tell myself. Then this shagging scarf is coming off and that’s all there is to it. Feeling a bit like a hostage in a TV thriller, I sit back, mind racing.
So here’s what I’m aware of, in no particular order. Low-level mumbling between Mike and the driver, I presume about where the hell we’re off to. Then him gripping my hands tight and telling me it’ll all be worth it in the end. The taxi zooming off against the background noise of the city, then not long afterwards coming to a shuddering halt, to the sound of a cacophony of horns blaring at us from all around.
The car door being opened and Mike gently helping me out. Me instinctively going to whip off the blindfold and the sound of Mike laughing, telling me no, to be patient, not quite yet. Then just like someone vision impaired, next thing he’s leading me out into the cold, so I’m aware only of the icy pavement beneath me, the crowds bustling past and all the time the reassuring warmth of his firm grip on my hands.
Doors being opened. A sudden rush of welcome warmth. Again, low muted whispers as Mike seems to be discussing something that’s already been prearranged. My handbag being taken from me and something being mentioned about security checks. So now I’m thinking, am I at an airport? Couldn’t possibly be though, JFK is a good forty-minute drive from Manhattan, and wherever we are, it only took us a few minutes to get here.
Then I’m aware of Mike slipping his arm around my shoulders and leading me across a long marbled floor. At least I’m guessing that it’s marble by the click-clacking sounds my high heels make as we glide over it.
‘You’re doing great, I’m really proud of you,’ he says, and I swear, even without seeing, I can practically hear the smirk in his voice.
‘Well, that’s as may be, but I feel like a complete moron!’
‘Shh. Just trust me. It’ll be well worth it in the end.’
Lift doors opening and Mike guiding me inside. Again a lot of low muttering, then the whooshing sound of us zooming upwards, like we’re actually inside an express elevator.
‘The View?’ I ask Mike excitedly. ‘Are you taking me back to that amazing revolving cocktail bar? Because I’ll certainly need a good stiff drink after this!’
‘Maybe, maybe not,’ is all he’ll tell me, though.
Next thing, I’m aware of the lift gliding to a halt and being led out into … I’m not quite sure what, exactly. It’s quiet wherever we are though, that’s all I’m sure of. I can’t begin to guess where this is, but it almost sounds like we have the place to ourselves. More walking, then Mike holding another door open for me, then stepping outside into, no joking, an icily sharp breeze so cold it would practically slice your face in two.
‘Mike, come on! I have to know what’s going on!’
‘Alright then Miss Impatience, we’re finally here,’ he says, and again, I can feel the warmth of him beside me, heating me up a bit against the cold. ‘Time for you to take a look around, Holly Johnson. In the hopes that you won’t be too disappointed, that is.’
With that, he gently unties the blindfold and I blink in the darkness, as my eyes slowly adjust to my surroundings.
Oh my dear Jesus. I do not be-fecking-lieve this.
‘The Empire State!’ I half shriek at him. ‘You’ve taken me up the Empire State Building?’
‘Hence the blindfold,’ he smiles. ‘I knew it would ruin the surprise if you saw all the signs on Fifth Avenue directing us here. So, are you surprised? Was it worth all the cloak-and-dagger carry-on just to get you all the way up here?’
I can’t answer him though. In fact, I can barely breathe. For the first time all evening, I’m utterly bloody speechless. Mike takes my hand and leads me round the observation deck, past other tourists just like me, gaping at the whole thing, just drinking it all in. We even stop at a telescope and I clamber excitedly up to it to have a good look through it. And it’s astonishing, with the whole city in its sparkling, night-time prime right beneath us, stretching from the Hudson Valley right the way northwards to the tip of the Catskills and beyond.
‘So what’s the verdict?’ Mike grins as I climb back down again. ‘Worth waiting for?’
‘Well worth it,’ I tell him, as he slips his arm around mine. ‘It’s just indescribable up here! You feel – almost godlike. Looking down from this height onto all those people beneath, it’s as if there’s absolutely nothing we can’t see from up here.’
Next thing, Mike is fumbling about in his coat pocket, turning slightly sideways so I can’t see whatever he’s at. So I turn back to ogle the view and then nearly jump out of my skin when I hear a loud popping sound coming from behind.
Oh dear God, just when I think this moment can’t get any more perfect. I turn back to see him proudly holding up two baby bottles of champagne and two champagne flutes, holding one out to me as I look back at him completely dumbstruck.
‘Managed to smuggle these in,’ he grins down at me. ‘After all, it is your first time up here and I wanted to make it magical.’
‘Oh Mike … it’s been just …’ but the words clean escape me.
I think back just a few short weeks to the little cloud of depression that was hovering over me just because Christmas was coming.
And then I force myself to delve even further back. To two Christmases ago to be exact, when the worst thing that could possibly happen did happen. When I thought I’d never smile again, never mind laugh and begin to see the joy in life again.
And now here I am. I’ve no idea what the future will hold with Mike or where we’ll both be in a year to come. Whoever can answer a question like that one? All I know is that right here, right now, I’m in heaven.
And I think I might know someone else who is too.
I look upwards to the twinkling night sky as Mike slips a warm, comforting arm through mine.
And I whisper, ‘Our special time. Always was, always will be. Thank you, Mum. Always.’
Epilogue
One year later
And now it’s time. All my adult life I’ve put this moment off, but there’s no getting out of it now.
Mike is with me, of course. By my side, like he has been throughout most of this magical last year. The whole long-distance thing? We’ve made it work. He must have more Air Miles than all the senior cabin crew at BA combined, he’s been over and back to Dublin so often. As for me, I’ve spent every spare holiday and long weekend I could in NYC, including two unforgettable weeks in July, when we went to the Hamptons and really saw how the other half live.
And all that time, in the background, there was the one question Mike kept gently probing. Did I ever consider getting in touch with my birth parents?
I’d looked into it of course, years ago, when Mum was fit and strong and actively encouraging me, saying she’d be right there with me, lending support all the way. But somehow I never did: to me, I had the most amazing mother alive, why would I want to go and search out another? Then, as I explained no end to Mike, once Mum got sick, it almost felt disloyal to consider that somewhere out there, there might be someone whose DNA I shared, who I had a right to know.
But that was then and this is now. So here I am, on Haddington Road in Dublin, right outside the adoption agency. It’s taken up the best part of the last six months, but thanks to the agency and thanks to Mike and hi
s tenacity, we got there. And now it’s time. I’m meeting her now. Here. This morning.
‘Ready?’ says Mike, who’s right beside me, just like he promised he would be.
‘As ready as I’ll ever be,’ I gulp nervously.
‘Come on then, sweetheart. Just hold my hand and know that I’m never going to let it go.’
Then with one hand clasped tightly in his, I take a deep breath.
And press the doorbell.
THE END
Acknowledgements
To Marianne Gunn O’Connor. There really are no words to thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I hope you know how grateful I am and always will be, dearest friend.
Thank you Pat Lynch, for your incredible kindness and patience. Thank you Vicki Satlow, for all your hard work and for always being so encouraging.
Dearest Eli Dryden, what can I say? It really is a joy to work alongside you, although somehow it never feels like work at all. I’m blessed to have an editor like you and look forward to hatching more books with you in the years to come.
Thank you, Charlie Redmayne, for all your generosity and for always making authors feel so special.
To everyone at Avon, all I can say is wow. Just wow. You’re an incredible team and it really is a privilege to work with you. Special thanks to Caroline Ridding, Claire Power, Helen Huthwaite, Lydia Vassar-Smith, Parastou Khiaban and Victoria Jackson. And I look forward to visiting the new offices! Stick that kettle on …
Thank you to Tony Perdue, for everything and for always making book signings such fun.
Thank you to Kate Bowe and Sarah Dee for all your amazing hard work and brilliant ideas. It’s wonderful to finally get to work with you.
And thank you, as always, to my family and friends, for everything. A large portion of this book is set in Manhattan, so Mum and Dad, who knows? Play your cards right and we might just be back there very soon …
I’ve left one very special family to last, but to Susan McHugh, Sean Murphy and of course Luke and Oscar, a very special thank you for decades of friendship – not to mention all the 24-hour tech support! This one is for you all, with love.
If you liked Meet Me in Manhattan, why not try…
Heartbreaking and uplifting, this is a story about how hard it is to leave our old selves behind, the tough choices we sometimes have to make and how love and friendship can heal the most damaged of hearts
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Heartbreaking and uplifting, this is a story about how hard it is to leave our old selves behind, the tough choices we sometimes have to make and how love and friendship can heal the most damaged of hearts
Buy the Ebook.
An original, funny and poignant story about those things in life that you just can’t plan for…
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Absence makes the heart grow fonder…doesn’t it?
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The fairytale ending was just the beginning…
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About the Author
Claudia Carroll is a top-ten bestselling author in the UK and a number one bestselling author in Ireland, selling over 670,000 copies of her paperbacks alone. Three of her novels have been optioned, two for movies and one for a TV series on Fox TV. In 2013, her tenth novel Me and You was shortlisted for the Bord Gáis Popular Choice Irish Book Award. She was born in Dublin where she still lives.
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
Love Me Or Leave Me
Me and You
A Very Accidental Love Story
Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?
Personally, I Blame My Fairy Godmother
If This is Paradise, I Want My Money Back
Do You Want to Know a Secret?
I Never Fancied Him Anyway
Remind Me Again Why I Need a Man
The Last of the Great Romantics
He Loves Me Not … He Loves Me
About the Publisher
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United Kingdom
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
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London, SE1 9GF
http://www.harpercollins.co.uk
United States
HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
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New York, NY 10007
http://www.harpercollins.com
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