His hand was warm and soft when I accepted it, a thrill dancing through me as his fingers laced lazily through mine, as if they should have been there all along. The new contact was welcome but I was very aware of it as we set off, almost as if every sightseer would see it and rush for their cameras to take evidence of the remarkable event. It felt as if we had passed some unseen milestone. Did Max feel the same way? I couldn’t tell. But he seemed completely relaxed and at peace, which put me at ease.
Walking alongside groups of other people I could feel a tangible sense of excitement building as the towers of the bridge loomed ahead. So many of my experiences in this city were like mental snapshots I knew I would pore over when I was back at home and as we stepped onto the walkway of the famous bridge, holding hands, I knew this would be one I would come back to time and again. It was a palette of blues: the perfect blue sky over us, the deep blue waters of the Bay below us, the dusky blue hills of Marin County ahead of us, cut through with a vivid splash of red in the metalwork, cables, railings and supports of the bridge. Although the side looking along the Bay towards Alcatraz Island and the city was protected with wire fencing, it didn’t lessen the impact of the view and all along it visitors were pressed close with their cameras focused through the holes in the fencing to the beautiful landscape beyond.
‘You know, it was years before I actually walked across this bridge,’ Max said. ‘I’d lived in the city a long time and seen so much of what people all over the world come here to witness. Then a friend came to visit from Baltimore so I decided it would be a good thing to do with him. And he wasn’t impressed, as I recall. But I, on the other hand, walked across like an open-mouthed kid seeing Santa for the first time.’ He squeezed my hand. ‘So, what do you think?’
‘It’s magnificent.’
He laughed and raised my hand with his to kiss the back of it. ‘That’s such a British word. Bless you.’
‘I’m glad it amuses you.’
‘I’m glad you’re here …’ he said, suddenly. ‘With me.’
I looked up then, his words reverberating in my mind. What I was feeling – the peace in his presence at odds with every nerve within me standing to attention – did he feel it too? I saw my reflection in his sunglasses begin to grow larger as he leaned closer, his warm breath beating the cold Bay wind to blow softly across my lips. I closed my eyes and willed Max closer still …
‘Excuse me!’
We pulled apart as a family of large American tourists hurried past on ‘Bike the Bridge’ hire bicycles and it was only then that I realised we had stopped walking and had been facing each other in the middle of the bridge walkway. A little flushed and embarrassed, we succumbed to teenage giggles as we resumed our walk – and the moment passed …
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: I almost kissed him
Honestly, it nearly happened. The setting couldn’t have been more perfect – walking across the Golden Gate Bridge in the sunshine, on a gorgeous clear day. He was holding my hand (and seriously, Vix, the agonies I went through trying to get my head around that development were just ridiculous) and we were talking and then suddenly, we weren’t talking any more and he was leaning in … And I almost kissed him.
If it hadn’t been for a group of overfed Yanks on bikes (you had to be there) I would actually have done it. But once they charged between us it kind of killed the moment. The rest of the date was lovely, but no more near-kiss experiences, although he seems to like holding my hand. When we got back home he had a phone call from a friend and had to leave the Muni bus two stops before mine. He kissed me on the cheek – I’ve had quite a few of those – but nothing more.
The thing is, I really wanted him to kiss me. I’ve thought of little else since. But I’m not sure I want to be this fixated on someone while I’m here. This trip is meant to be about me, not finding a man. Does that make sense? Or is it just me panicking?
I really did want to kiss him, though.
Off to boil my head or something … Will keep you updated.
Big love
Nell xxx
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: I almost kissed him
Aaargh, Nell!!
Your email was as frustrating as when the EastEnders drums kick in at a crucial moment.
Why didn’t you wait till the fat bikers had gone and jump him? WHY? I’ve just Googled the Golden Gate Bridge and it’s 1.7 miles from end to end. That’s 1.7 miles for you to grab that gorgeous man and snog his face right off. And that’s only if you walked one way, which I presume you didn’t. In which case that would have been 3.4 miles of possible snog mileage – and you HELD HANDS instead?
Honestly, I’m disappointed in you. After all that waiting and hoping you did before Aidan kissed you for the first time, I expected more. Do you remember that? You mooned about for weeks with the ‘maybe it’s me, maybe he doesn’t like me’ routine. If you learned anything from dating him it should be that you have to seize the day – or more to the point, seize the MAN – when you get the chance.
I know this isn’t what you expected. I know it’s not what you were looking for in SF. But I think you need to see it as another opportunity to try something out. Like volunteering at the diner. Like jumping on a plane there in the first place. You don’t have long before you have to come back to all the lifeless crap of being unemployed. MAKE THE MOST OF IT!
Consider yourself told, woman!
Love you tons
Vix xxx
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The sweetest thing
Lizzie, it transpired, had been a little busy herself while I was out with Max. When I walked into her apartment she was wearing a sheepish smile, which I quickly discovered was directly linked to a certain handsome principal of Sacred Heart Elementary – a fact confirmed when he strolled into the living room wearing only a towel. The shock on his face, coupled with my cousin’s sudden fit of nervous coughing was too funny for words. I burst out laughing, which in turn broke the otherwise awkward moment and resulted in a surreal hour of polite conversation over tea (thankfully with Tyler fully clothed).
When he had gone, my cousin turned to me. ‘I’m sorry, hun. I thought you and Max might be out later than you were.’
‘Don’t apologise. When you told me you had lesson planning to do, I didn’t realise you meant those kind of lessons.’
Lizzie’s cheeks matched her rose-pink t-shirt. ‘Stop it! I didn’t plan on it happening. Tyler just offered to help me with a proposal I have to put together for the School Board. We met at Java’s Crypt and ended up coming back here for lunch. And then … I honestly don’t know how it happened, Nell. We were talking about the proposal and then we were kissing.’
‘About time too! It was obvious you both wanted more than friendship. I’m just happy you finally did something about it.’
‘So am I.’ She handed me a cold bottle of orange juice from the fridge. ‘He surprised me. The couple of dates we’d had before had been lovely, but Ty was always polite and restrained. This afternoon – he was anything but.’
‘But you’re happy?’
She paused for a moment but the sparkles in her eyes gave the game away. ‘I’m over the moon! He’s perfect, Nell – and he feels the same about me. I haven’t felt this way for ages. But how was your date?’
Now it was my turn to shine. ‘Amazing. We almost kissed …’
‘No! Really?’
‘Yes. And next time I think it will happen.’
‘I love this, Nellie! I feel like it’s all coming together for both of us.’
The change in my cousin was remarkable. For the rest of the weekend she was constantly upbeat, finding joy in the smallest observations or details.
The following day, I woke early and checked my emails on Lizzie’s Mac.
From: [email protected]
To: nell.sullygi
[email protected]
Subject: Happy Birthday! (I hope)
Happy Birthday!
OK, confession time: I still can’t work out this stupid time difference between London and San Francisco, so this email might be perfectly timed (in which case YAY, many happy returns, etc) or not (in which case I’m either getting in early or helping you extend the birthday celebrations …).
I wish I could see you to celebrate properly but I know you’re going to have the best time out there. So I just want you to know that right now, in honour of your birthday, Ryan Gosling is feeding me Aldi’s finest Merlot. WITH HIS FACE!*
(*That would be a wine glass I found on Etsy etched with RG’s face! Wine and The Gosling, my two favourite things combined: nirvana achieved!)
Have a fab one, Sully!
Big loves
Vix xxx
‘Surprise!’ Lizzie burst in and dog-piled onto my bed. ‘Happy birthday lovely cousin!’
I struggled to push her off, giggling. ‘Are you sure you’re thirty-four?’
‘Yep. And you, my fabulous temporary flatmate, are thirty-three today! Can you believe it, Nell? I could swear it was only yesterday we were in our teens and fighting over who was going to marry Harry from McFly.’
‘That was always going to be me,’ I grinned, thinking how different my life had turned out compared to what I’d imagined when I was a teenager. But spending my thirty-third birthday in San Francisco with Lizzie was better than anything I could have planned.
‘You wish! Anyway, it’s Sunday, neither of us has to work and I have a whole day of birthday fun organised for you! So get up and we’re going to start the day with a birthday breakfast.’
Ordinarily being taken to my workplace wouldn’t have classified as a birthday treat, but here I couldn’t think of anywhere better. Everyone at Annie’s was in on my birthday surprise and I walked in to find a table near the counter decked out in pink and blue balloons and streamers. Karin brought a chef’s hat through from the kitchen (decorated with three cocktail umbrellas) and made me wear it. Dom cooked an enormous stack of birthday pancakes, smothered in whipped cream, chocolate and toffee sauce, sliced banana, peanut butter chips, miniature Hershey’s Kisses and caramelised pecans. He’d even piped ‘Happy Birthday Server Three’ in coffee icing around the edge of the platter.
Annie came over to give her good wishes and refused money from Lizzie when she asked for the bill. ‘This one’s on the house,’ she insisted. ‘It’s a special day for our valued member of staff.’
Laverne gave me a birthday card signed by all the staff and regulars and Frankie presented himself as my personal chauffeur for the day.
‘You win me until three p.m.,’ he announced, scowling at Marty who almost fell off his counter stool laughing.
‘Yeah. But second prize is Frankie for a week!’
Lizzie was incredibly proud of herself and all the way through breakfast was beaming like a lighthouse in the middle of Annie’s. When I had eaten as much as I could of my birthday pancake stack (which was less than half of it), she handed me an envelope. Inside was a strip of paper, which read:
Welcome to your San Francisco Birthday Treasure Trail!
We begin where money and journeys meet,
in a nook where a fun guy awaits.
‘What is that supposed to mean?’
‘You’ll find out.’ Lizzie clicked her fingers. ‘Mr Chauffeur, are you ready to go?’
Frankie jumped to attention, saluting us. ‘Ready when you are, ladies.’
Sitting in the generously proportioned back seat of Frankie’s cab I tried to extract more clues to our first destination but neither he nor Lizzie would crack. We were definitely driving downtown, that much I could tell, and when we pulled onto North Point Street beside the vintage F-Line trams overlooking the San Francisco Bay, I thought I’d guessed it.
‘We’re going to Pier 39, where tourists spend their money. And the fun guy waiting for us is Eric!’
‘I like your reasoning, but you’re wrong.’ My cousin was obviously enjoying this and while I pretended to be frustrated by her cryptic clue, I was touched that she had gone to so much trouble to create an elaborate birthday surprise for me.
After passing more historic piers we continued driving on The Embarcadero and soon the skyscrapers of the Financial District loomed into view.
‘Is the Financial District the money bit of the clue?’
‘Clever girl,’ Frankie said over his shoulder. ‘OK Lizzie, I’m gonna drop you both as close to the entrance as I can get and drive a loop until you’re good to go.’
We came to a halt outside the famous San Francisco Ferry Building, a long pale grey building with an elegant clock tower rising from its centre.
‘Money and journeys – Financial District and the Ferry Building!’ I exclaimed. ‘Brilliant Lizzie! But where’s the fun guy?’
We got out of Frankie’s cab on the wide sidewalk by the historic building and Lizzie linked arms with me. ‘We’ll find him inside.’
The interior of the Ferry Building had been transformed into an arcade of restaurants, cafés and speciality food market stalls. Just about every kind of foodstuff was represented here: fresh herbs, meat, olive oil, pickles, handmade chocolates and cakes – and an entire stall devoted to mushrooms.
I started to laugh as soon as I saw the stall and Lizzie led me towards the display of mushroom growing kits, rare and exotic mushrooms and mushroom-related gifts. ‘Fun guy – fungi. Lizzie, that’s dreadful.’
‘One of the S-O-S Club mums owns it,’ she explained. ‘It was the only clue I could think of.’ She smiled as a petite, blonde lady in a mushroom-brown apron approached us and I recognised her as Kennedy Syms-Bannerman, Maya’s mother.
‘Hey Lizzie. Nell, good to see you and happy birthday!’
‘Thank you.’
‘So, I have a gift for you.’ She handed me a tiny pot shaped like a mushroom, with sparkly string tied around it. ‘It’s a little something to remind you of my stall – and to thank you for inspiring my daughter. And here is your next clue.’
‘Thanks for doing this, Kenni,’ Lizzie said.
‘It’s my pleasure. Nell’s toffee popcorn cupcakes have turned my kids into baking nuts. Have a lovely day, Nell.’
‘I will. Thank you.’
Leaving the stall I was about to head for the front doors when Lizzie stopped me. ‘Actually, while we’re here you need to experience a San Francisco original.’
Five minutes later, armed with very smoky house coffee from Peet’s – a local coffee chain – we climbed back into Frankie’s taxi.
‘Next stop?’ he asked, accepting a coffee from my cousin.
‘Next stop,’ Lizzie confirmed. She took my takeout coffee cup as I opened the next clue.
Next stop is a place where the bell tolls
and ancient rail runners rest at 1201.
‘Is it the church in Mission? Although what the “rail runners” are I don’t know …’ As I considered the conundrum, Frankie paused to let a vintage tram pass by, its bell ringing angrily at the taxi driver ahead of us who hadn’t been as courteous. ‘Oh hang on – it’s a tram!’
‘Almost,’ Frankie said. ‘Think about another thing that runs on rails in this city.’
‘Cable cars? Is the next clue on one of the cable cars?’
I saw Frankie grin at Lizzie in the rear view mirror. ‘I think that’s close enough.’
We drove along streets away from the Bay until Frankie parked the taxi by the side of a redbrick building that housed the San Francisco Cable Car Museum. Above the glass entrance the number ‘1201’ was painted in large gold letters.
‘Welcome to 1201 Mason Street,’ Lizzie said.
Leaving Frankie reading his newspaper in the sun outside, Lizzie and I wandered into the museum. We spent almost an hour looking at the gorgeous old cable cars, fascinated by the simple system of cables and pulleys that kept the iconic cars transporting people up and down the steep stree
ts of the city. In the gift shop Lizzie bought me a miniature cable car bell and handed me my next envelope.
Stop three on your birthday odyssey
is a shape that a smoothie painted
in the shadow of a famous name.
‘OK, I have no idea about this one,’ I admitted, after scrutinising the clue for several minutes. ‘You might have to help me.’
‘It’s easy,’ Frankie said. ‘Think about a shape you associate with San Francisco.’
‘Pyramid! It’s the Transamerica Pyramid.’
Lizzie shook her head. ‘Think a little more romantic than that.’
‘Romantic? Oh, is it a heart? OK, “a heart a smoothie painted” – well I’ve kept seeing the painted hearts everywhere, but a “smoothie”? Ah, I think I’ve got it – it’s the heart sculpture that Tony Bennett painted in Union Square … and the “shadow of a famous name” is Saks!’
The palm trees in Union Square were moving in the breeze when Frankie dropped us off by the red heart painted by Tony Bennett with a landscape image of the Golden Gate Bridge. Lizzie asked a friendly tourist to take our photo and we posed by the heart with cheesy grins and jazz-hands, reminding me of the sightseeing we used to do in London during the holidays, the photographic evidence of which was stuck to our bedroom walls for most of our teens. Giggling, she handed me the next clue and it was lovely to see her so thrilled at her own plans.
To reach the fourth stop you must brave hairpins
and step into the movies at the Hillards’ home.
‘Right,’ I said, as I worked out the first half of the clue, ‘I think “hairpins” must refer to the hairpin bends on Lombard Street. “Hillards’ home” – why do I know that name?’ Suddenly, it hit me: my favourite film from my childhood that at one point I could quote verbatim. ‘The Hillard House from Mrs Doubtfire!’
Lizzie applauded me. ‘And the address?’
‘I don’t know where it is. I know the address Sally Field mentions in the film, but …’
‘So say that …’
‘2640 Steiner Street – but that’s only in the film.’
We clambered back into Frankie’s cab. Lizzie mentioned the two addresses to him and turned to me. ‘They used the actual address in the film. Well done for remembering, though. I had to look it up.’
Take A Look At Me Now Page 18