by Annie Lyons
‘You just want to pretend you’re Rachel from Friends,’ Martin had joked. Emma had laughed, but it was partly true. You couldn’t help getting swept up by the romance of the place as you strolled through the park towards the heart of the city. Emma had felt immediately at home here. She loved the place, the people and their sense of humour. It was very like the British sense of humour: dry but less self-deprecating. She found that New Yorkers liked her because she was British; they were wryly amused by her in an indulgent way. She was having a ball.
As she approached the Allen Chandler building she looked up at its magnificent high-rise splendour and grinned. She pushed through the revolving doors and was immediately greeted by Don, the regular security guard.
‘Ooh, is he like Don Draper?’ Rachel had asked when Emma told her about him.
‘Hmm, not really,’ she replied, considering Don’s nineteen-stone bulk. ‘But he does a good impression of Joey from Friends.’
Don fixed her with a side-on grin. ‘Hey, Emma. How you doin’?’
‘I’m doing quite well, thank you, Donald,’ said Emma in the English aristocrat’s voice she reserved for their morning banter.
Don slapped his considerable thigh as he chuckled. ‘You crack me up. “Quite well, thank you, Donald.” That’s funny. You have a good day, now.’
‘You too.’ She smiled.
She was about to climb into the lift when a voice behind her shouted, ‘Hold that elevator!’ She turned to see Wendell Burke, fellow editor and a man as irritating as a bad case of piles, marching towards the lift. Emma sighed. Not everything about New York was perfect. They had wankers here too.
‘Good morning, Wendell,’ she said.
‘Emma Darcy. Why, the pleasure is all mine,’ he said in a terrible English accent. He thought he was being funny and clever. He was neither. ‘So how is project Brit-Lit coming on?’
‘Very well, thank you,’ said Emma.
‘I told Michael way back, why would you want to bring over this editor from England with her books on baking and football and the royal family? It’ll never work.’
‘Well, it just goes to show how wrong you can be.’
Wendell looked unimpressed. ‘You’ve had one book in the New York Times bestsellers and it was about Kate Middleton. You could sell diapers with Kate Middleton on.’
‘Look, my brief was to import anything British that captured the American interest. That is what I am doing. Michael is quite happy, so I don’t see what business it is of yours.’
Wendell shrugged. ‘It’s not, I guess. I’m happy to concentrate on proper literary works while you swan about with books for the masses. Actually, I’m doing a tour with an author you used to know. Richard Bennett?’
Emma kept her face very still but she could feel her heart start to beat a little faster. ‘Oh, yes?’
‘Yeah. His new book’s been picked up by Oprah so we’re going to get him over for a few days. We should all go out for dinner.’
‘That would be lovely,’ lied Emma. ‘Oh, this is my floor. Excuse me,’ she added, sidling past Wendell.
‘Good luck with your One Direction books,’ he jeered. ‘And have a nice day, now.’
‘I’ll have whatever bastard day I want, you oily toss-pot,’ muttered Emma, making her way to her desk. She switched on her computer and took off her coat just as Delia was wandering past with her coffee pot. Delia was the über-efficient office administrator, a proud New Yorker who had taken Emma under her wing from day one. Her impressive, immovable thick black bouffant was almost as big as her fearsome reputation for knowing everyone and everything there was to know about Allen Chandler. Emma loved her.
‘Who crapped in your purse?’ she asked with a cheery grin.
‘Guess. And good morning, by the way.’
‘Aww, not that dumbass Burke again. I told you a hundred times. Ignore him. From what I hear, he ain’t so shit-hot after all.’
‘Do you think?’ asked Emma.
Delia tapped the side of her nose. ‘I know it, honey. He’ll have his day, you mark me. Now, do you want a cawfee or not?’ she said, holding up the pot.
‘Please.’
Delia nodded and made her way to the kitchen. Emma sat down at her computer and fired up her e-mails. The top message had been sent early that morning and it was from her boss, Michael Allen, who also just happened to be the CEO’s son.
‘Emma, can we meet for a chat this morning, please? Give Alex a call as soon as you get in.’
Emma took a deep breath. She got on well with Michael, but it was always unsettling to be summoned by the boss. She phoned his PA, Alex, and arranged a meeting for later that morning. Delia returned with her coffee and Emma settled down to read her e-mails and plan her day.
******
On the other side of Manhattan, Lily was complaining. ‘My feet really hurt. And I thought we were supposed to be going shopping, not looking at boring old historical stuff.’
Rachel sighed. ‘You can’t come to New York just for the shopping. You’ve got to have some cultural experiences, haven’t you, Mum?’
‘If you can call it culture,’ said Diana, glancing suspiciously at a man standing on a street corner dressed as a hot dog.
‘Well, we all enjoyed the Empire State Building, didn’t we?’ said Rachel.
Diana and Lily muttered affirmatives. ‘It’s a shame King Kong wasn’t climbing up the outside of it like in that film,’ said Lily.
‘Yes, yes, that is a shame,’ laughed Rachel. ‘Anyway, I think you’re going to like our next stop.’
‘Is it far?’
‘Not too far,’ said Rachel uncertainly, eyeing the street they were crossing.
‘The Apple Store!’ cried Lily. ‘We could buy Granny an iPad! They’re much cheaper here.’
Diana laughed. ‘I struggle to use the telephone, Lily.’
‘No, it’s not the Apple Store but it’s not far away,’ said Rachel, pointing towards a tall shopfront, where two soldiers dressed in red were smiling for photos and ushering excited children through their doors. Its windows screamed, ‘It’s Christmas!’ in the manner of Noddy Holder about to sing his festive hit.
‘A toy shop!’ cried Lily. ‘A really big one! Wait until I tell the boys about this. They’ll be well jell,’ she declared, skipping towards its open doors.
‘Cultural experiences, you say?’ murmured Diana, following her granddaughter through the entrance.
‘This is modern-day culture,’ said Rachel, taking a photograph of Lily next to the toy shop’s soldier she was hugging just a little too tightly.
Diana raised her eyebrows quizzically. ‘Oh, yes?’ she said, watching as a toddler had an impressive textbook tantrum, falling into a pile of rainbow-coloured unicorns.
Lily was skittering left and right like a sausage in a pan, for once unable to speak as she tried to take it all in. She dashed back to Rachel and Diana.
‘Right, I’ve got to get something from Hello Kitty, The Muppets and possibly Paddington. Oh, and there might be some cool American stuff so I’ll have to look at that too. Come on, we’ve got so much to do!’ she cried, leaping from foot to foot.
Diana shook her head but smiled indulgently at Lily as they headed towards the escalator. Rachel nudged her mother. ‘Well, at least she’s got her energy back,’ she whispered. ‘And anyway, who doesn’t like a bit of shopping? Lily, will you look at the size of that panda!’
******
Michael Allen’s pewter-blue eyes were fixed on Emma and to be honest it was making her mouth go a bit dry. If it weren’t for the fact that he was gay, Emma would have had a knee-trembling crush on this man. In fact, sod it; she did have a crush on him. He was a bit Tom Ford with an air of George Clooney and frankly what wasn’t to like in that combination? She almost forgot what she was saying.
‘And so given the success of the first royals’ book, we’re thinking of rolling out the format to other members of the royal family for publication next May.’
‘Okay, good.’ Michael nodded. ‘But let’s be selective, shall we? Harry would be an obvious candidate, I would say.’
‘Absolutely,’ said Emma. Wendell Burke, who was sitting in the chair next to her, gave an expansive yawn.
‘Late night, Wendell?’ asked Michael, bringing his hands together in prayer position.
‘Sorry, Michael,’ said Wendell with a sly smile. ‘I was just up late reading the new Richard Bennett. The guy is Grade A.’ Emma bristled.
‘Oh, yes, this is our new Oprah boy. Isn’t he British, though?’ asked Michael, glancing over at Emma.
Emma swallowed. ‘He is.’
‘Oh, don’t be shy, Emma. Richard’s told me all about your little dalliance a few years back,’ remarked Wendell smugly.
Emma wished the ground would open up and swallow Wendell and then possibly herself. She cleared her throat. ‘I wouldn’t call it a dalliance. I was his first editor.’
‘And you never forget your first, right?’ said Wendell, relishing her pain.
‘I’m not sure how this is relevant,’ said Michael with quiet authority.
Wendell looked irritated but contrite. ‘Sorry. I was just messing with you, Emma.’
‘Always,’ she muttered under her breath.
‘Right, well, I do have something I need to discuss with both of you,’ said Michael. ‘It’s a last-minute opportunity but I’m going to need you to be both on board and, Wendell, it’s a commercial opportunity so you’re going to need to park your high-brow ideals for this one.’ Emma and Wendell shifted to sit up straighter in their seats, like children trying to win the approval of a parent. ‘Okay, so I’m presuming, even though neither of you is a thirteen-year-old girl, you’ve both heard of Cameron Soul?’
Emma nodded. ‘My niece loves him. He’s huge.’
Wendell looked scathing. ‘I’m not into manufactured popular music but, yeah, I’ve heard of him.’
‘I’m glad we’re on the same page because we’re buying in the UK edition of the book he’s just published and he’s coming to New York to do some events. Emma, I thought you could make him feel at home as he’s a Brit and, Wendell, you can make sure he gets the full New York treatment. The visit coincides with the Allen Chandler Christmas party in two days so we’re all set to celebrate anyway. Apparently he comes with a bit of an entourage but I’m sure we can handle it. I assume I can count on both your support?’
Emma was nodding in agreement when she was momentarily distracted by someone in the corridor trying to get her attention. The walls of Michael’s office were made of glass with a wispy frosted design. Lily was peering through the glass, pulling a funny face from behind the gigantic toy panda she was carrying.
‘What the hell?’ began Wendell. ‘There’s a child in the office.’
Michael looked over, his face breaking into a delighted smile. ‘I’m guessing this is your niece, Emma?’
By this time, Rachel had spotted her daughter and rushed over to retrieve her, flapping her hands in apology. Michael rose to his feet, opened the door and came out to greet them.
‘I am so sorry,’ gushed Rachel. ‘Lily, what do you say?’
Lily hid behind the panda, shamed into silence. Michael knelt down next to her. ‘Hey, Mr Panda. Please tell Lily that there’s nothing to be sorry about. It was just some dumb old meeting and it’s good to meet her.’ Lily peeped out and smiled at him.
Michael rose to his feet and grinned at Rachel. ‘It’s lovely to meet you too…?’
Emma stepped forwards. ‘This is my sister—’
‘Rachel, I’m Rachel,’ said Rachel with a swish of her hair, keen to do her own introductions to this delightful man.
Michael shook her by the hand. ‘And someone tells me you’re a big Cameron Soul fan, Lily?’
‘His biggest,’ declared Lily, finding her voice again.
‘Well, we’re having a little Christmas party in a day or two and Cameron is coming along, so, if you guys are still around, why don’t you join us?’
Lily stared at him open-mouthed before rushing forwards and wrapping her arms around his middle. ‘I love New York and I love you,’ she declared. Michael laughed.
Wendell looked appalled by the whole scene. ‘Well, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do,’ he said, breezing past them.
‘So do I, worse luck,’ said Michael, winking at Lily. ‘I’ll be seeing you, then,’ he added before disappearing back into his office.
Lily turned to her aunt and mother. ‘I like him,’ she said.
‘So do I,’ said Rachel, nudging her sister. ‘You’ve kept him well hidden,’ she added. ‘But then he’s probably a bit out of your league.’
Emma folded her arms. ‘Is that right? You think he’d go for a saggy almost fortysomething like you over a pert English rose like me?’ she asked, giving a superior flick of her head.
‘Firstly, I think you’ll find that with age comes experience, which, for your information, men tend to like and, secondly, I am not saggy.’
‘Yes, but you could do with finding some shoes to go with those bags under your eyes,’ retorted Emma. Rachel stuck out her tongue.
‘Arguing again, girls?’ said Diana, coming up behind them. ‘Really, you’re just like a pair of teenagers sometimes. My, who is that handsome man?’ she added, gesturing towards Michael.
‘Emma’s boss.’
‘Well, I’m starting to see why you like New York so much,’ said Diana.
‘Mum, please!’
‘I still have a pulse, Emma.’
Emma decided to change the subject. ‘How do you like Delia?’
‘I couldn’t really understand what she was saying.’
‘Why? She speaks English.’
‘It sounds as if she’s swallowing her vowels. She was very pleasant though. She offered me her recipe for peanut-butter cookies but I declined.’
‘Another triumph in Anglo-American diplomacy.’ Rachel grinned. ‘Right, are we going for lunch or what? I’m starving.’
‘Where’s Lily?’ said Emma.
‘Oh, not again.’
Lily had decided that she loved New York and she particularly loved Auntie Emma’s offices. Everywhere was light and you could see out towards the amazing views. She liked America. It was an adventure, like being on TV. She sort of wished Alfie and Will were there too. That might have made it even more fun. As she approached one office she could hear the cross man from earlier on the phone. She decided to pretend she was Daphne from Scooby-Doo and crouched down behind a gigantic pot-plant to listen.
‘I’m telling you, Chris, they’re praying this one works. It’s Allen’s last chance to make a profit this year. All we have to do is make sure the events are a disaster so that Soul’s people and all the fans are gunning for Allen Chandler. It’ll be another nail in their coffin and another step to Wild and Madison taking top spot.’
Lily had no idea what this man was talking about but there was something about him she didn’t like. She was wondering if she should mention it to Emma when she heard her mother’s voice.
‘There you are, Lily. What have I told you a million times about running off like that?’
‘But I was just—’ began Lily.
‘No buts, young lady. I am confiscating your Hello Kitty make-up set until I can see how sorry you are.’
‘Fine,’ said Lily, folding her arms and harrumphing towards her mother. ‘But don’t blame me when something really bad happens.’
Rachel shook her head and followed her daughter to where Emma and Diana were waiting by the lift.
Chapter Three
Diana stood in front of the painting by Vermeer entitled ‘A Maid Asleep’, and suddenly felt rather tired. New York was exhausting. Rachel seemed to be on a mission to see everything before they left in three days. Diana was remembering why she avoided big cities. They were so full of people and she did find people rather irritating sometimes. They were even worse in cities. They were all in such a hurry to get somewhere,
but never really managed it. She had become used to her own company over the past two years, out of necessity rather than choice, of course. But she had found that she didn’t mind it as much as she’d thought she would. She had friends and good ones at that, but, after a morning’s shopping or an evening at the theatre with them, she was always relieved to go home and lock the door behind her. She missed Edward, of course. She could hardly bear to express how much she missed him, but she knew he was with her. After he died, Emma had suggested that she go for grief counselling.
‘I do not need anyone telling me that I miss your father. And I don’t need anyone telling me how to manage my grief. It’s my grief and I shall deal with it as I see fit, thank you, Emma.’
Emma hadn’t brought up the subject again. Diana talked to Edward every day: to his picture or the chair he used to sit in. She didn’t tell a soul about this. They would have thought her mad or, worse still, tried to analyse why she was doing it. She didn’t care. It enabled her to cope with the fact that he wasn’t coming back. It was as simple as that.
She missed Edward now as she gazed up at the pictures. He would have had an interesting fact or two about Vermeer, possibly something fruity to make her laugh like a schoolgirl. She could imagine him leading her by the arm through the galleries, before going for tea in the café. He would have made it interesting for Lily too, instead of racing her past the myriad paintings as Rachel was doing, like a cultural spinning top.
Lily had declared the Jackson Pollocks to be ‘like something Alfie would paint’, and the Picassos to be ‘quite good’, which must have been a relief to the great man. She then decided that she would like to see the Christmas tree and then go to the gift shop. So Rachel had left her mother to potter through the galleries in her own time, agreeing that they would meet for lunch in an hour.