by Helen Cox
‘Mornin’, you two,’ Mona said, putting emphasis on the word mornin’. Angela blushed and buried her head in Ryan’s chest. He laughed at how coy she was being and kissed her on the head.
‘Morning all,’ Angela said once she’d got over her embarrassment. She took a seat next to me at the counter. ‘Hey, Esther. Heard from Jack?’
I put my fork down in a swift, pointed manner and stared at her.
Her eyes widened and she scrunched up her lips. ‘I’m gonna take that as a no.’
Closing my eyes for a moment to get a handle on my irritation, I relaxed the muscles in my face. ‘Sorry. I just … I don’t know what’s going to happen with it all yet,’ I said, looking into my sunny orange juice.
‘Esther, when Jack and I were together…’ Angela began.
‘Do you have to bring that up?’ Ryan interjected.
‘Oh, and I suppose I’m the first girlfriend you ever had, am I, Mr Fellowes?’ Angela crossed her arms and stared at Ryan. He almost cowered. Wow. Who knew it was even possible to put Ryan in his place? ‘Anyway –’ Angela turned back to me ‘– as I was saying. When me and Jack were together it was fairly obvious we weren’t a fit. But you two, you match. You and Jack should be together.’
‘Couldn’t agree with you more,’ said a low, familiar voice that cut through the clatter of coffee cups and teaspoons tapping saucers. My eyes widened. I turned my head in the direction of the voice. There, looking almost slapdash in his khaki trousers and white T-shirt, was Jack, his face solemn. Everyone else fell silent looking between him and me.
‘Jack?’ My voice was shrill. I cleared my throat and tried to decipher the look in his eyes. Was he still angry about me leaving for England? That I was flippant enough to give up what we had, instead of hanging around to fight for it. Would he still want to fight for it now? ‘I didn’t expect to see you so soon.’ That was an understatement. I’d banked on having at least another day to work out what the hell I was going to say to him.
‘Let’s take a walk,’ he said.
‘OK, you’ve lived in New York too long because that sounds sort of ominous. Like I’m not sure if we’re actually going for a walk or if you’re going to pull a gun on me down a side alley.’
‘Only one way to find out.’ Jack kept his face in neutral and leant his head towards the door.
‘If you’re movin’ the show elsewhere can I come?’ asked Mona.
I gave her a withering look and left the money for my unfinished breakfast on the counter.
‘I’ll catch up with you guys later,’ I said, turning to find Jack already holding the door open for me.
All the way along East Houston Street I lagged one step behind Jack in silence until we hit the East River. There we found a bench in the shadow of Williamsburg Bridge and sat, still not talking, still not really looking at each other.
‘I don’t know where to start,’ said Jack. ‘Did you come back to New York to see me? I mean, did you come back to New York to…’
‘Yes.’ I nodded. ‘I saw on the news that you’d been stabbed and flew straight out here.’ I looked at him.
‘Oh, so it was the stabbing that brought you back.’ He made a slight nod but kept his eyes forward looking out towards the water. I followed his gaze, fixating on the dreamy, rippling reflection of the bridge.
‘Yes. But if that hadn’t brought me back here, your letter would have. Eventually.’ I started chewing on the inside of my lip.
‘Really?’ I felt Jack’s eyes on me but couldn’t look at him.
‘I thought…’ I looked at my trainers, and scuffed them around in the dirt. ‘I thought I was doing the right thing when I left the way I did. But I was wrong. So wrong. And I’ve regretted it. Every day. And I’ve missed you.’ One of Jack’s arms began to coil around my shoulders but I pretended I didn’t notice. ‘I’m not even sure the right thing was to come out to New York in the first place. Instead of dealing with everything back home I just ran away. And then I ran away again after Boyle’s show. And I need to stop running.’ My jaw tightened. ‘That said, I suppose if I’d never come out here, we might never have met.’
‘I like to think we would have. Some other way.’
Jack was very close to me now, his arm resting on my shoulder. I could feel the warmth from his body, and smell the bergamot drifting from his pores. I still couldn’t look at him. Instead, I frowned out towards the steel grey of the river.
‘Esther.’ He put a hand on each of my shoulders and turned me to face him. My breathing deepened the moment our eyes met.
‘Jack… I… I…’
His eyes flitted up and down my face. He pulled me close, and touched my forehead with his.
I swallowed and tried to focus on getting the next sentence out … on saying it without making some stupid comment straight afterwards or faltering on any of the key words.
‘I’m so in love with you, Jack. And I’ve never felt about anybody the way I feel about you.’ The back of his hefty hands brushed my cheeks. ‘Tell me you feel the same. Tell me, if it’s true.’
‘I love you. That’s never been in question. But…’
‘But?’ I stiffened and jerked backwards in my seat. ‘Really? You’re throwing a caveat in now? This second?’
Jack moved his hands down to my elbows to steady me and looked into my eyes.
‘I need to know if you can forgive me, for what happened before you left for England. If we’re going to be together I don’t want anything coming between us. I shouldn’t have kept the secret from you. And I’m still so sorry. I was weak.’
‘I forgive you, Jack. I do. I was weak myself.’ I shook my head. ‘So many times.’
‘Well, being weak, that’s not good enough for me anymore. You deserve better.’ He shoved a hand through his hair.
I nodded. ‘We both do.’
‘I want to be stronger. Not just for my sake but for both of us.’
‘Me too.’
‘I know I don’t deserve you –’ he looked into my eyes ‘– but if you give me the chance I’ll do everything in my power to become the man you do deserve.’
I looked long into his eyes. He meant it. Every word. ‘Sounds like a fair enough deal.’ I smiled.
His eyebrow flickered at the realisation I’d swung back across the spectrum, from sentimentality to sarcasm.
‘At this stage however, I’m unsure how the trifling issue of you still having a wife might affect our future.’
Jack grinned.
‘Just so you know, grinning at me is not the most comforting thing you could be doing right now.’
‘I can think of several comforting things I’d like to be doing to you right now.’ He leant in to kiss me but I stopped him. Pressing my good hand against his chest to fend him off.
‘Jack!’
‘Alright.’ He smiled again. ‘The only, and I do mean only, positive to come out of everything that happened was that Laura finally came out of the woodwork. No judge in his right mind would make me stay married to her after she attacked me. We finally have grounds for divorce.’ My brow dipped, following the story. ‘Laura’s going to be put on a rehabilitation programme. We’ll be divorced within six months.’ I opened my mouth to speak but surprise corked the words in my throat. I tried again.
‘You know, if the roles were reversed here, I might have led with that.’ I narrowed my eyes at him.
‘Well, that was my ace. You don’t put your ace down on the table right away.’ He scratched his forehead dead in the centre and then flashed the false, dashing smile he used whenever he wanted to pretend his good looks compensated for whatever idiotic rubbish he was spouting. There was some truth in the idea but I wasn’t about to let him know that anytime soon.
‘Oh dear.’ I put a hand to my temple. ‘Am I going to have to put up with this gibberish every minute we’re together?’
‘Only when I’m not kissing you.’ He pulled my body close to his again.
‘Oh,’ I said, my eyes lo
wering to his lips. ‘In that case…’ I leant forward and gave him a slow, soft kiss, pressing my lips against each of his, one at a time. Our tongues merged and enfolded in his arms, I felt the dim prickle of his stubble against my skin. His mouth trekked downward, along my neck and, once he pulled my shirt aside, traversed further along my shoulder. I reclined and then, seeing the leaves of the green ash tree and the cloudless, blue of the sky, remembered where I was.
‘You’ve already been arrested in New York for assault.’ I murmured the words as his lips were still caressing the nook between my neck and my chin. ‘It’s probably not wise to add indecent public behaviour to your list of offences.’ Jack looked at me breathing hard. His face was more serious than I’d have expected. ‘What?’ I asked. He looked down at my bandaged hand, took it in his and gave it a soft kiss. I winced at the pressure even though he was being as gentle as he could be. Noticing the pain I was in, he returned my hand to my knee. The area around his mouth tightened.
‘The last few days, my mind kept flitting back to Laura holding that knife. I thought that was it … that I was going to lose you for good. And all I could do was lie there and press the assistance button.’ His brow knitted and he put a hand to my face.
I watched the brightness of our future twinkle in his eyes, and smiled.
‘Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Faber. I can handle myself in extreme situations,’ I said with a shrug. ‘I’ve seen Die Hard. Twice.’
Jack gave me a reluctant smirk, shook his head and pressed his lips against mine. Once again, I opened my mouth, and my heart, and let him in.
Epilogue
New York, 26th December 1990
Mona set the burger down on the counter a little harder than she needed to, put both hands on her hips and squinted at her unwanted customer.
‘You do realise Esther and Jack get back tomorrow?’
‘Not doin’ any harm today am I?’ said Jimmy Boyle, dunking one of his fries in ketchup before swallowing it whole.
‘Makes a change.’ Mona’s stare drifted from Jimmy’s narrow, brown eyes, out to the glass frontage of the diner. Outside, snow swirled in tiny tornados, a million white specks churning in the darkness. It was gone eleven, and the people of New York City were all locked up inside. All, except those without loved ones to go home to.
‘Guess I asked for that,’ said Jimmy, re-establishing her attention.
‘And more.’
‘C’mon now,’ he said, pointing his fork at Mona. ‘I know you’re not mean enough to kick a lonely reporter out on them cold streets. Especially around the holidays.’
‘No, but I will tell you that if you’re spending the holidays alone you’ve probably taken a wrong turn somewhere.’
Jimmy didn’t respond with words. He instead looked down at his hamburger and nodded. The waitress was right, of course, he thought, but it was so easy for her. With her husband and kid. With her family. He wagered she had loving parents kicking around somewhere too. Take that away and maybe she wouldn’t fare so well either.
Mona, noticing Jimmy’s silence, sighed and topped up his cup with the last drops of coffee she hoped to brew that night.
‘Keeping secrets ain’t my strong suit,’ she said, her voice softer than before. ‘It’s just a matter of time before I blab by accident that you was in here. And then Esther’ll get that look she gets and Bernie’ll start yellin’ at me.’
‘Well, they need never know. You won’t see me again after today.’
‘That’s what you said on Christmas Eve.’
‘Is it my fault you make such good hamburgers?’ Jimmy took a huge bite of his sandwich and then with his mouth full, added, ‘Hard for a growing boy to keep away.’
Mona grunted, turning to a pile of napkins and restocking the small, tin holders along the counter. Marvin and the Starlighters belted out ‘Earth Angel’ over the jukebox, filling the silence that mushroomed between them.
Just a minute later the bell above the doorway chimed and a cold gust blew in, carrying on it the unusual aroma of peonies in full bloom. The scent of spring somehow trespassing on a bleak, winter night. From his seat at the end of the counter, Jimmy breathed in the fragrance he couldn’t quite place and turned to see a woman with electric blue hair, chopped in a blunt line just below her jaw. She stood staring over her shoulder, shivering in a black leather jacket which must’ve been worse than useless in sub-zero temperatures. In one hand she carried a guitar case, in the other a suitcase made of purple leather that had seen better days.
‘Hi there, honey,’ said Mona. The woman’s head swept round. ‘Why don’t you take a seat and I’ll be right with you.’
The woman nodded but didn’t speak or smile. With one last glance behind her, she dragged her Doc Martins across the lino and chose a seat further up the counter, near the kitchen.
‘What can I get for ya, honey?’ asked Mona.
‘Matter of fact, I was looking for Esther Knight. She still work here?’ said the woman in an accent forged somewhere in the Mid-West.
‘Oh, you’re a friend of Esther’s?’ Mona smiled.
‘Uh, yeah.’ The woman nodded, though something about the nod seemed uncertain to Jimmy. Not that the woman even noticed him studying her.
‘Well, she’s out in England visiting her mom for Christmas. Not back till late tomorrow.’
‘Oh.’ The woman’s eyes slipped down to the counter and she swallowed, hard.
‘Would you like a hot drink or something whilst you’re here?’ Mona asked.
‘I’ll get a cuppa coffee. Thanks.’
‘Not a problem, just gotta run out back and get a fresh pack of grains. Won’t be a minute, honey.’
Again, the woman responded only with a nod and the second Mona was out of sight, she covered her eyes with her left hand. A moment later, Jimmy noticed tears gliding down her cheeks, and she brought her right hand up to her mouth to smother a sob. Her whole upper body shuddered as she cried and Jimmy was convinced, in all his years, he’d never seen anyone break down like this. At least, not in a public place.
‘Hey, you alright?’ Jimmy called across to her, wondering whether to move closer or give the stranger some space.
She jumped at the sound of his voice; seemingly she’d forgotten anyone else was there. She dropped her hands down to the counter, turned her head and locked her deep, green eyes with Jimmy’s.
He didn’t know why her eyes ached with fear. Or that those tears were spawned from an unforgettable, grisly scene the woman never should’ve witnessed. The odds were he’d never find out, for the woman understood that anyone who knew what she knew wouldn’t be alive for much longer.
To be continued…
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
1. Why is the mugging that Esther talks about in the opening of the book significant to her journey, even though it is a part of the story we are never shown?
2. In chapter two, the man at Coney Island argues that if you close yourself off to people they can’t hurt you, but they can’t love you either. There are heartbreaking risks attached to love, so why do we pursue it?
3. In the first part of the novel Esther struggles to balance her affections for Jack with her sense of loyalty to another woman. ‘I was advising Angela through the sour fog of a hidden agenda. She deserved better than that, and I knew it.’ How does this book explore some of the more problematic elements of female friendships?
4. How far do you agree with Mona’s statement: ‘I’d say letting your past control your future is unwise’?
5. What does this novel say about our attitudes to celebrities and their fame?
6. Esther says: ‘The only person who could change my life was me.’ Can other people change our lives? Or is it really our responsibility to lead the life we want to?
7. Jack’s predicament with Laura was created in part by fears about his infertility. How does the pressure of gender expectation impact on men in our society?
8. In the last section of the book, Esthe
r has the following realisation: ‘You can’t outrun your own shadow, it follows you everywhere.’ What benefits are there to facing our problems and making peace with tragic events that have befallen us?
If you liked Milkshakes and Heartbreaks, you’ll love the next book in the Starlight Diner series …
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
No book gets to publication without people believing in it and its author. In the case of this book, and this author, those people are: Gigi Woolstencroft, Helena Sheffield, Natasha Harding, Ellie Wood and my agent Joanna Swainson. My gratitude to all of you for this opportunity, and all the support you’ve shown me cannot be measured.
As this is my first novel, I relied heavily on the goodwill of proofreaders for steer on how well I was doing. I’d like to thank Barbara Cox, Shirley Cox, Christine Pugh, Mahsuda Snaith, Nigel Floyd, Amy Cradock, Shelby Holt, Rob Keeling, Randall Davis, Tim DeBruler, Matthew Tyson, Leah Lantzy and Amanda from Beta Reading Bookshelf for all their feedback and input. I’d like to extend further gratitude to Hazel Nicholson for being so enthusiastic about my work and for helping me with some important fact-checking.
To my writing partner in Canada, Dean Cummings, I’ll say this: How grateful I am that you responded to that nonchalant email I sent you one hazy, September day. I would’ve been lost without you. Though an ocean separates us geographically, you have somehow managed to be at my side at every step. This is a kindness I will never forget.
Credit and undying thanks is due to the family who listened to my stories before they were ever published: Carol Cox, Brian Cox, Elaine Patch, Sheena Widdowfield and Ray Cox. You’ve all done well to endure my dark sense of humour all these years.
And lastly, a thank you to my husband, Jo Pugh. It’s downright embarrassing as a writer when words aren’t enough to convey how much someone means to you. What I can say with absolute certainty is that you are the man who got me thinking that maybe this romance thing did exist after all. So really, if you think about it, this is all your fault.