Back to reality
The distant church clock began to mark the hour and I hurried back inside, pushing through the crowd of visitors to collect my coat and blinking away tears as the lift descended. On the road outside I hailed a taxi, clambering into a black cab when it stopped for me.
‘Kensington High Street, please.’
As the lights of London passed by, I dropped my head into my hands. I should never have gone there tonight. I could have carried on thinking Max had lied to me, shelving that episode of my life and moving on. I could have left things with Eva as her exciting occasional London correspondent, her happy memories of me intact and perfect.
Instead, I had lost Max all over again and broken Eva’s heart when she overheard our argument. I would never forget the look of hurt in her eyes as she ran from the balcony. I knew the truth about Max and no matter what else happened in my life there would always be the question of what might have been. And now I was on my way to meet Aidan, feeling like I’d betrayed him already. It was a mess – and I only had myself to blame.
Nearing the restaurant address, I did my best to hide the evidence of my tears, trying to look as though the only stressful thing I’d dealt with this evening was overcrowding on the tube. I had to put this behind me, draw a line underneath it and focus on what I knew my life had in store: opening Nell’s Place and working hard to make it a success.
Aidan was already at the table when I arrived. My heart ached as soon as I saw him, guilt and longing pulling me in two directions at once.
‘Hi, sorry I’m late.’
‘Everything OK?’ he asked, rising to kiss my cheek. ‘You look stressed.’
‘The tube was horrific,’ I replied, hating the excuse even though it was partly the truth. ‘I gave up and caught a taxi but then we were stuck in traffic.’
‘Ah, the joys of London. At least when Nell’s Place opens your commute will be relatively easy.’ He grinned. ‘Now there’s a scary thought: very soon you’ll have a commute to your new business.’
His smile coaxed me back to life, the thought of something as mundane as the journey into work becoming a cause for excitement. ‘I’ll be able to call the diner my workplace – now that will be amazing.’
Aidan ordered a whisky on ice for him and a glass of red wine for me as we waited to be served. ‘Do you know what you want?’
I was startled by his question until I realised he was referring to the menu. ‘Oh, something light I think. I’m not really hungry.’
‘Fair enough. I won’t be joining you in your small meal, I’m afraid. I’m ravenous.’
I watched Aidan eagerly scanning the menu and considered how much my opinion of him had changed since I came home. He had been there for me all the times I had needed support over the last few months and that had to count for something. I was lucky to have him.
We ordered food and Aidan asked for another whisky.
‘Have you finished the last one already?’ I asked, eyeing his glass.
‘They serve a fantastic Speyside single malt here,’ he replied. ‘I just fancied another.’
‘You’ll be asleep before you know it, especially after your busy weekend.’
‘Maybe you should join me,’ he ventured, raising a suggestive eyebrow.
‘Aidan!’
He gave his best impression of an innocent man. ‘What? I was talking about whisky, Nell. What did you think I meant?’
I laughed in spite of the knot twisting my insides. ‘Very funny.’
‘It made you smile though, so that’s a good thing. Listen, I know what happened last week was – unexpected,’ he dropped his voice, ‘but I still don’t regret it. I believe there’s more for us – I want there to be more.’
Determined to push any last memory of Max away, I let myself be charmed by Aidan’s words. Maybe I wanted more too. Maybe this is how it should always have been between us. ‘I hope so,’ I replied, the words causing chills to tumble down my spine.
He reached for my hand and I let him hold it, taking a deep breath when I realised I was shaking.
‘I promise you that when Nell’s Place is open, we’ll work out where we should be. And this time, I’m not letting you go.’
Wanting to bring the conversation back from such emotive territory, I changed tack. ‘So, you were going to tell me what your dad thought about the progress at Nell’s Place?’
Aidan groaned into his single malt as he released my hand. ‘Let’s just eat first, baby. We’ve talked of little else for months.’
The sudden swing in his mood was unwelcome and new. ‘But it was your idea to discuss the diner over a meal,’ I returned. ‘You said we needed to spend every available opportunity double-checking everything.’
‘I’m sorry. I’ll just be glad when you’re in there and it’s operational.’
‘Me too, I can’t wait. So what did John say?’
Aidan swigged the remainder of his whisky. ‘He had some concerns.’
Still? How could that be the case? ‘Such as?’
‘It’s nothing we can’t work through with some give-and-take.’
‘Aidan. What concerns?’
He stared at his glass. ‘The menu.’
That was a relief. If the only issue John Matthews had about Nell’s Place was the design of the menu it was easily remedied. ‘What doesn’t he like about it? If he gives me a snag list I can chat to the printers …’
‘All of it, Nell. Apart from the French toast varieties – he thinks that could be a good gimmick.’
I stared at him. ‘Gimmick? It’s not a gimmick. It’s an American diner classic – because the diner is an American diner …’
‘Don’t get hung up on the word, Nell. The whole concept is a gimmick, let’s face it.’
‘No, it’s not. You know it isn’t.’ Adrenalin had started to pump as I noticed he was no longer making eye contact with me. ‘What exactly is your father asking me to do?’
He began to spin his knife on the white cotton tablecloth. ‘Change the menu back to what it was.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Dad did some market research in Acton. People want the old café back. They don’t want an American diner, no matter how carefully the food is sourced or how authentic it is.’
‘No …’
He stared at me. ‘You think I didn’t say this to him? You think I let him dismiss all of our hard work without a fight?’
‘Dismiss it?’ I was gripping the edge of the table now, the tablecloth bunching beneath my fingers.
‘I’m sorry, I wish it was different. But Dad’s ploughed a lot of money into this café.’
‘It’s not a café, it’s a diner. My diner!’ My voice was lifting above the restaurant noise, but I didn’t care. How dare John change his mind now! Did all the work that Aidan and I had put into the place mean nothing to him?
‘Keep your voice down,’ Aidan hushed me, glancing in embarrassment at the other customers. ‘We both knew there would be compromises.’
‘I’ve done nothing but compromise,’ I shot back. ‘I’ve compromised on quality, ingredients, equipment, layout … Just what, exactly, does your father want this time?’
‘Food that people recognise, Nell. Full English breakfasts, bacon sarnies, egg and chips, that sort of thing. Dad thinks you should sell jacket potatoes and panini for the more health-conscious, maybe some salads. You can still do the burgers – they fit the brief. And like I said, the French toast selection could be a great draw for the younger crowd. Oh and Dad really liked the movie quotes mural you’ve painted on the wall.’
I felt sick. Everything I had worked so hard for was being reduced to a greasy spoon café with fresher paint and less beer guts behind the counter. ‘He’ll be changing the name back too, will he?’
Aidan gave a weak smile. ‘No, Nell. You’ve earned the right to have your name over the door. Nell’s Place will be somewhere people can come to enjoy food they love, right on their High Street where it’
s always been.’
‘And you agreed to this?’
He shook his head. ‘Of course not. But given Dad’s attitude, perhaps this is the best thing for now.’
‘All your father is doing is ripping the heart out of everything we’ve worked for and sticking my name above the door!’
‘Nell, listen to me. This is still your dream. But by doing it this way you gain experience of running the diner with a menu we know will sell. Dad will be happy and will leave you alone to get on with running the place. Play his game, Nell, and then start to change it from within. Stick to his menu for a year and slowly start to introduce the other items on the specials board. The popular ones will stay, the others won’t. It’ll be like market research in real time.’
Our meals arrived, but I pushed my plate away. My appetite had disappeared along with the remaining pieces of my dream for Nell’s Place. ‘This isn’t what I wanted. It’s not what I’ve worked so hard for.’
‘Honey, stop worrying and eat something. You’re tired, you’re disappointed, but you’re still opening your own business in three weeks’ time. And I’ll be there to help you.’
But I wasn’t opening my own business. I was managing somebody else’s – somebody who cared about profit over service, and quick returns over community building. John Matthews was paying me a wage to run the business the way he wanted – that was the reality of it.
‘I don’t think I can do this.’
Aidan left his seat and gathered me into his arms as I broke down, this revelation the final straw in a day I wished had never happened. ‘You can do this. You’ve already made a fantastic job of all the crap Dad’s thrown at you! It will be a success because you have the determination to succeed. That’s what matters.’
Having made a total prat of myself in front of an entire restaurant full of people, I made my excuses and hurried to the ladies’ toilet. My mascara-streaked, flushed face stared blankly back at me. So John Matthews wanted to mess with all the plans I’d made, did he? Well, I had two choices. I could give up, postpone the dream and join the unemployment massive of London. I could let this beat me. Or I could fight back by making my mark where I could, in any way, however small.
I drew deep breaths and steadied myself as I held the edge of the sink. Staring at my reflection, I looked deep into my own green eyes. This had to be possible. I hadn’t come this far, risked this much and given all of myself to see the dream fall at the final fence. I thought of Ced with his Gothic coffee house, Rosita with her New Age store and Annie with her diner. None of them had started with the perfect conditions for a successful business, yet all of them were now Haight-Ashbury legends. And after them would come others, driven by a desire to do something different, to follow their dreams however ugly and out-of-shape they began life as. If they could do it, so could I.
Opening my handbag, I set about reapplying my make-up and straightening my hair. I would show John Matthews. Nell’s Place was going to be a success.
Calmness settling once again on my shoulders, I pushed open the door to the restaurant and was walking back towards Aidan when my mobile rang. Seeing the number on the screen, I turned my back on Aidan and answered.
‘Hello?’
‘Nell – Eva’s missing. I’ve searched everywhere but I can’t find her.’
The panic in Max’s voice made every hair rise to attention on the back of my neck. ‘Stay there. I’m on my way.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Little lost girl
Icy rain had begun to fall across the city, turning pavements into dark glass reflecting the lights from cars, shops, offices and buildings. The black cab sped through quieter streets, frustratingly finding every red traffic light between Kensington and Blackfriars Bridge. All I could think about was how upset Eva had been when I’d last seen her. In a hotel as vast as the Blackfriars Millennium there could be countless places for an eight-year-old to hide. Especially an eight-year-old who didn’t want to be easily found. I checked my watch. It had been two and a half hours since Eva had left the balcony: had she been missing all this time? If so, how had Max lost sight of her when he knew how upset she was?
Max’s number flashed up on my mobile phone and I answered it before it even rang this time. ‘Any news?’
‘No. The hotel people are doing a sweep of all floors. She could be anywhere.’
‘What happened after –’ I paused to carefully phrase my question ‘– after I left?’
‘Eva was upset. She ran to the bathroom and locked the door. I talked her out after about twenty minutes. I thought I’d calmed her down. She said she was OK and I left her talking to the cloakroom attendant. But when I checked ten minutes later she’d disappeared. How could I let this happen? I promised her mother I’d take care of her …’ His voice cracked and I could hear sharp bursts of breath as emotion swept over him.
‘Max, keep looking. This taxi’s taking forever but I promise I’ll be there soon. We’ll find her.’
I hadn’t explained to Aidan where I was going, only that a good friend urgently needed my help. I’d refused his offer to join me, hailing a cab before he could pay the bill and leaving as he ran out onto the steps of the restaurant. It was another mess I would have to rectify when I next saw him, but tonight it wasn’t important. Eva’s safety and wellbeing were at stake and despite how things had ended with us earlier that evening, Max had called me.
Maybe Eva had taken the lift, got off on a floor she didn’t recognise and become disorientated. Every storey of the Blackfriars Millennium was identical, with long, narrow corridors that seemed to stretch on forever in every direction and mirrored doors that confused your sense of direction.
I stared at my phone, willing it to ring with news of her safe discovery. Max was experiencing every parent’s worst nightmare, in a city he didn’t know. If she was in the hotel at least she was safe. But if she’d left it, with the Thames nearby and countless dark and unfamiliar streets snaking away from the Blackfriars Millennium, it didn’t bear thinking about. A scared little girl in a strange city, at night, in the icy rain …
And then it hit me: I knew where she was.
‘Wait!’ I yelled, slapping my hand on the Perspex screen separating the driver from me.
‘Oi, pack that in!’
‘I’m sorry, mate. Change of plan. Take me to St Paul’s, as fast as you can. It’s an emergency.’
Grumbling, the taxi driver made a sharp U-turn, sped down a side street I was pretty sure was one way in the opposite direction, and joined another main road, the windscreen wipers battling with the heavy rain pelting the glass.
Hanging on to my seat belt as the taxi veered from left to right, I called Max but he didn’t answer. Frustrated, I left a message and rang off. I would keep trying when I arrived, but for now all that mattered was that I found Eva.
The taxi screeched to a halt outside the South Transept steps of the cathedral – the view featured on the postcard I had sent Eva a few weeks ago. I stuffed a handful of notes from my purse into the driver’s hand and dashed from the cab, gasping as freezing cold raindrops assaulted my body.
Holding my bag over my head I shouted, ‘Eva! Eva, it’s Nell!’
The marble of the famous cathedral glowed in the floodlights, caliginous shadows gathering between its columns as it rose like a giant from the street. The sight was daunting for me, but for a small, scared eight-year-old it could be terrifying. No Disney-style cuteness here: it was more like a scene from a Gothic horror film.
‘Eva!’
Shielding my phone as best I could, I called Max again.
‘Max Rossi here, I’m not able to take your call but leave a message and I’ll get back to you …’
‘Max, it’s Nell again. I think Eva is at St Paul’s Cathedral. I’m there now and I’m looking for her. As soon as you get this, call me.’
I looked up at the curve of the South Transept, the grand dome rising high behind it, and tried to remember the picture of St Paul’s f
rom Mary Poppins. I recalled Dad remarking once that the painting used in the film didn’t look anything like the real thing. Blinking through the raindrops, I tried to think clearly. I must be missing something …
‘Eva!’
Certain that these steps were deserted I turned left and ran the outside length of the church, my eyes scanning the periphery for any sign of her. In the floodlights of the surrounding buildings the rain was descending in undulating sheets. I couldn’t feel my feet in my thin ballerina flats and my face was numb.
‘Eva! Eva, it’s Nell!’
The raindrops thundered against the bag I held overhead, crashing onto pavements painted an eerie pale orange by the streetlights. I ran on, my fear growing with every empty shadow.
I remembered getting lost on holiday one year when I was around Eva’s age. We were staying in Torquay and Dad found out that a travelling funfair was visiting nearby. Walking around the stalls I somehow lost sight of my parents, suddenly realising that I was alone. As night closed in and the crowds grew, I remember the awful terror that gripped me, thinking I would never see my mum and dad again. I felt like I wandered around the funfair for days, scared out of my wits, although my parents reckon I was missing for around thirty minutes. When they finally found me, I was curled up beside the Hook-a-Duck stall because the jolly yellow plastic birds reminded me of the one I had for bath time back at home and that made me feel safe. But it was traumatic for me – and I didn’t want this to be Eva’s version of my experience.
‘Spare a pound, love?’ A man suddenly appeared in front of me, a sleeping bag wrapped around his body offering meagre cover from the rain.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t have any … Oh, wait …’ I stopped running, dug in the front pocket of my bag and gave him a handful of coins. ‘I’m looking for a little girl, eight years old, light African skin, black hair? I think she was wearing a red dress. Have you seen her?’
The homeless man shook his head. ‘Seen no kids here tonight. You want to find her fast, though. This place ain’t friendly.’
I was really scared now. I rounded the corner of St Paul’s Churchyard and looked up. That was it – the grand classical entrance with columns, towers, stone staircase and dark dome above. The view from the film!
Take A Look At Me Now Page 29