Alice-Miranda In New York 5

by Jacqueline Harvey

‘What about you, Lucinda, did you have a good day?’ Her mother tried to lift the weight that had descended on the dinner table and only seemed to be getting heavier.

  ‘Yes, Mama,’ she replied and loaded her fork with potato and beans.

  Her mother was persistent. ‘Well, what did you do? You must have done some interesting things.’

  ‘The exact same thing I do every Thursday. I was driven to school, I went to school and I was driven home again. I did my homework and now I’m at dinner,’ Lucinda said, deadpan.

  ‘What has got into you, young lady?’ asked Gerda. She was rapidly losing her patience.

  ‘I’m bored, Mama. Why can’t I go out in the afternoons with my friends?’ Lucinda’s thoughts spewed from her mouth before she had time to think.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Morrie’s head shifted slightly to the right and he stared at his daughter. ‘Of course you can go out with your friends.’

  ‘No, I can’t, Papa. I can go out with the friends that you and Mama approve of. I don’t like Bethany Barrington and I can’t stand Carissa Dayton. They’re rude and mean and they spend all their time being nasty about the other girls at school. I want to go out with my real friends.’

  ‘Of course they’re your real friends.’ Gerda’s dark look at Lucinda was like a warning shot over the bow of a ship.

  ‘No, they’re not. They’re your friends’ daughters and I can’t stand them. I want to go out with my friends!’ Lucinda clamped her hand to her mouth but it was too late. The words had already escaped.

  ‘Your friends?’ Her father looked her full in the face now. ‘And who exactly are your friends, Lucinda?’

  Zeke and Toby exchanged glances. Their little sister wasn’t prone to outbursts at the dinner table. Lucinda hesitated a moment before she spoke up. Then she remembered what Alice-Miranda had said about making the most of every day.

  ‘Ava and Quincy.’

  ‘Ava, the girl from East Harlem and Quincy, the daughter of those rowdy jazz musicians?’ her father replied.

  ‘Yes, Papa,’ Lucinda nodded.

  ‘Out of the question.’ Morrie tensed his grip on his cutlery.

  ‘But they’re my best friends in the world. They’re kind and fun and they like me in spite of everything.’

  ‘They like you in spite of what?’ her father demanded with a sharp look.

  ‘All this.’ Lucinda waved her knife and fork around in the air. ‘Our money and our home and the store and everything.’

  ‘Lucinda, that is exactly why it is your mother’s and my job to protect you. You don’t understand. They like you because of all this. Her father’s brows knitted together. ‘When you’re a Finkelstein everyone wants a piece of you.’

  ‘That’s not true. They like me because I’m funny and silly and we laugh together. They feel sorry for me.’ Lucinda’s stomach lurched. She had already said too much.

  Gerda intervened. ‘They’re not like us, Lucinda. Those girls, their lives are different to yours.’

  ‘Yes, much more exciting.’ Lucinda pouted. She had a sick feeling rising in the back of her throat. The mere fact that her father knew as much as he did about Ava and Quincy worried her.

  ‘Ava – she is on a scholarship, right?’ Her father raised his eyebrows. ‘What good would it do her, you two being friends? Imagine if you invited her here. There is no point in raising a person’s expectations if you can’t see them through. And I can’t stand jazz music – it’s an abomination – an assault upon the ears.’

  Toby and Zeke had no idea where this conversation was heading.

  Zeke finally spoke up. ‘But Papa, you let Toby and me choose our own friends.’

  ‘That’s not relevant to this conversation,’ Morrie reproached his son.

  ‘But of course it is. Why shouldn’t Lucinda be allowed to have her own friends? She’s right, you know, about that whining Dayton child. She’s foul. Last time she was here I caught her putting handfuls of Mother’s best chocolates into her pockets. Snivelling little thief,’ Toby added.

  ‘When I want your opinion, boys, I will ask for it.’ Morrie silenced his sons, glaring from one to the other.

  ‘Ava and Quincy are my friends and there’s nothing you can do about it,’ Lucinda challenged her father.

  ‘What has got into you?’ Her father’s grey eyes drilled right through his daughter. ‘I forbid you to have any contact with either of those girls. You must not speak to them. Clearly they have put all sorts of nonsensical ideas into your head.’

  ‘But –’ Lucinda began.

  ‘Lucinda, you heard me. You will not say another word on this topic.’ He faced his wife. ‘Gerda, have Bethany Barrington and her mother stop by tomorrow afternoon. Lucinda will feel much better when she understands who her real friends are.’

  Lucinda’s lip began to quiver. ‘But Papa!’

  ‘Lucinda! Go to your room. You can come out when you feel ready to apologise,’ Morrie ordered.

  Lucinda pushed back her chair, knocking carrots over the edge of her plate as she threw her cutlery down. She fled from the dining room and down the hallway to her room, where she slammed her bedroom door as hard as she possibly could.

  Gerda Finkelstein stared at her husband. ‘Morrie,’ she began, ‘don’t you think you’re being a little hard on . . .’ She stopped mid-sentence.

  Morrie looked up from his plate and arched his left eyebrow. ‘No,’ he replied firmly. ‘Pass me the salt, Ezekiel.’

  His wife knew better than to continue with her question. When Morrie Finkelstein made up his mind about something he rarely changed it. Lucinda would have to fall into line, just as Gerda herself had done these past twenty years.

  'I’m so excited Mummy.’ Alice-Miranda was positively bursting. It was the end of her second week at school and she was having a wonderful time, except for being worried about Lucinda. The day after the argument with her father, Lucinda had told her friends all about what had happened. She even threatened to run away and live in the zoo if she had to. Alice-Miranda offered to speak with Mr Finkelstein immediately but Lucinda had begged her not too. It was clearly a situation Alice-Miranda had to keep a close eye on.

  The lessons were excellent and Alice-Miranda couldn’t wait to go to the Met again. They’d had to skip their art class this week to attend a fascinating talk by a visiting scientist, so she was hoping to go on the weekend with her parents to finish her picture.

  She’d hardly seen Alethea either, as the sixth grade girls had been away on camp all week. Although her mother was trying hard to limit her working hours, most of Alice-Miranda’s after school excursions had taken place with her father. So far, they had visited the Natural History Museum, the Stock Exchange and the Statue of Liberty, but there were some things she was still very eager to do.

  ‘Oh, darling, I’m really not sure about this,’ her mother sighed. ‘Your father and Mr Gruber both tell me that you’ll be perfectly safe and of course I’d rather believe them than think about the alternative.’

  ‘We’ll be fine.’ Alice-Miranda stood up from her seat at the kitchen table, walked around to where her mother was sitting and wrapped her arms around her neck. ‘Please don’t worry.’

  ‘All right, sweetheart, but just promise that you’ll go straight to Quincy’s and not take any detours on your way home.’

  ‘Of course we will, Mummy,’ Alice-Miranda said, leaning around to stare at her mother. ‘We’re very sensible, you know, and it’s not as if I’m on my own. Ava and Quincy will be there too. I just wish Lucinda could come. It’s not fair that she was too scared to even ask.’

  ‘You mustn’t interfere. The Finkelsteins have their reasons. I’m sure Morrie wouldn’t appreciate anyone telling him how to raise his daughter.’ Cecelia rested her head gently against Alice-Miranda’s shoulder.

>   Cecelia Highton-Smith had grown more and more concerned about Morrie Finkelstein’s behaviour since their arrival in New York.

  When Gilbert Gruber had announced at dinner that the Finkelsteins were planning to open the Grand Salon on the same day as the Highton’s launch party, Cecelia had telephoned the next afternoon to let Morrie know about the clash. The Highton’s invitations had been out for at least a month and Morrie had only just issued his. He was terribly apologetic and said that he hadn’t realised, which seemed very strange given that he and Gerda had already replied to the Highton’s event, saying that they would love to attend. She wondered if he was planning to abandon his own party – it seemed highly unlikely.

  Then when she and Alice-Miranda had seen the roses in the Finkelstein’s window display, Cecelia discovered that the suppliers had been stripped bare. It did seem a strange coincidence that they were the exact same variety that she had been planning to use at her opening. Fortunately, the discovery had been made early enough to source another floral contractor.

  Cecelia had kept on hoping that these things were all just silly misunderstandings until one of her long-standing designers had called and said that she was withdrawing her clothing line and wouldn’t be with Highton’s at all any more. Cecelia couldn’t even convince the woman to come in for a meeting. But the designer let slip that Morrie Finkelstein had made her an offer that was just too good to refuse. Cecelia and Hugh decided they would invite Morrie over to the store for a private tour and to see if they couldn’t at least get him to reschedule the salon event, even just to an earlier time in the day. Cecelia hoped that if they made Morrie feel important, he might reconsider. New York City was more than big enough for both stores – in fact it was big enough for more than a dozen stores – and this Finkelstein feud was really starting to get her down.

  Cecelia was staring off into the distance, wondering whether the store would ever be ready in time for the opening.

  ‘Isn’t it exciting, Mummy, that Quincy’s father is a famous trumpet player?’ Alice-Miranda bubbled.

  Cecelia started. ‘Sorry darling?’

  ‘Mr Armstrong. I wish we could see him play. Do you know that their jazz club is one of the oldest and most respected in the whole city? It says so here in my guidebook.’ Alice-Miranda ran her finger down the page and stopped at Armstrong’s. ‘And apparently the food is delicious too. Quincy’s greatgrandmother is in charge of the kitchen and her mother greets people at the door. How exciting to have the whole family involved! Quincy’s older brother has just started playing in the band too.’

  ‘Well, don’t get in the way, sweetheart. The Armstrongs are a very busy family,’ her mother warned.

  ‘And what time will you and Daddy come and pick me up?’

  ‘When I spoke with Quincy’s mother she suggested we come at seven,’ Cecelia replied.

  Alice-Miranda had been thrilled when Mrs Armstrong had telephoned her parents earlier in the week and asked if she wanted to go home with Quincy on Friday afternoon.

  ‘All right, young lady. I’m sorry, but your father and I have meetings this morning so Dolly will take you to school. Have a wonderful day and we’ll see you later at the Armstrongs’. Now run along and brush your teeth,’ Cecelia instructed.

  Alice-Miranda kissed her mother’s cheek and scurried out of the kitchen.

  ‘I’ll meet you at the lift in a couple of minutes, dear,’ Dolly Oliver called after her.

  ‘I can’t wait until this afternoon,’ Alice-Miranda told Quincy, who was sitting opposite her in the cafeteria. Ava and Lucinda had just hopped up to get some drinks.

  ‘It’ll be fun,’ Quincy grinned.

  Ava was going to Quincy’s too – her mother was picking her up at the end of her shift downtown – but Lucinda wasn’t formally invited. She’d told Quincy there was no point asking her and it would only make her father even madder than he already was.

  Lucinda and Ava reappeared balancing a tray of hot chocolates between them.

  ‘What’s with the long face, Finkelstein?’ Quincy asked as the two girls passed out the steaming mugs.

  ‘You know.’ Lucinda frowned and slid into the booth beside Alice-Miranda. ‘You’re all going on this great adventure after school and I’m going . . . to a play date with Carissa Dayton. Maybe I should just come, but then you might have to keep me, because I don’t think I’d be welcome back home again.’

  ‘I could speak with your parents,’ Alice-Miranda offered for at least the eighth time.

  ‘No!’ Lucinda protested. ‘That will never work. Mama wouldn’t understand and Papa, well, he’s crazy these days. I don’t understand what’s got into him.’

  ‘It is rather silly,’ Alice-Miranda said. ‘I mean, one day you’ll be grown up and he won’t be able to control your life any more.’

  ‘I wish. You know, when we had that argument last week he said that he forbade me to talk to Ava and Quincy. Seriously, who does he think he is? He wants me to spend all my time with girls I can’t stand. Doesn’t he understand that you can’t force people to be friends if they don’t want to be?’

  ‘You mean like Thea and the way she seems to hate you, Alice-Miranda, even though you’re perfectly kind to her?’ Quincy said, glancing across at her friend.

  ‘Don’t worry about Thea,’ Alice-Miranda replied. ‘I think her life is just a little bit complicated, that’s all.’

  ‘Hmph. I think she’s a first-class fake. Anyone who says they’re from Atlanta in Alabama is either really stupid or has something to hide,’ Quincy said.

  ‘Thea’s all right,’ Alice-Miranda said gently.

  ‘Well, I’m just glad that Gretchen told the truth about what happened at the park last week or you could have been in big trouble,’ said Ava seriously.

  Lucinda was deep in thought. ‘You know, I’m surprised my father hasn’t planted some spies inside the school to tell on me. Oh!’ she whispered. ‘Maybe he has. He seemed to know a lot about you two.’ She looked at Ava and Quincy. ‘It’s a miracle that he hasn’t found out we’re friends, Alice-Miranda. I can’t imagine what he’d do. I don’t know why but he seems to dislike your mother an awful lot.’

  ‘That’s just ridiculous,’ Alice-Miranda was firm. ‘Mummy’s never said a bad word about your father. Whatever imaginary thing he thinks she has done to him is plain nonsense and I’ve got a good mind to –’

  ‘Please Alice-Miranda,’ Lucinda interrupted her. ‘Don’t do anything. It will only make it worse.’

  Alice-Miranda tapped her finger against her cheek. She had a very strange feeling about Morrie Finkelstein, but at the moment she had no idea what to do about it.

  ‘We’d better get moving,’ said Ava, looking at the clock on the wall.

  Quincy slurped the last of her hot chocolate and Lucinda gathered the empty mugs and offered to take them back to the counter.

  ‘Mr Underwood said we can have some extra time to research our Science projects,’ Alice-Miranda informed her friends.

  ‘I don’t think an hour’s going to make much difference for us,’ said Ava, rolling her eyes, ‘unless there’s an astronaut hiding out in the library.’

  Alice-Miranda grinned. ‘Come on.’

  Alice-Miranda, Ava and Quincy said goodbye to Lucinda and headed for the back door. Lucinda raced out the front. She didn’t dare be late as her mother was picking her up so they could go to the Daytons’ for afternoon tea. The week before, just as her father had ordered, her mother had invited bossy Bernadette Barrington and her ghastly daughter Bethany over to the house. And as always Bethany spent the whole time nosing her way through Lucinda’s bedroom, moving her collection of miniature animals all over the shelf, riding her rocking horse so hard that Lucinda thought at any minute she might launch it through the window, and insisting on playing hide and seek (which Lucinda worried g
ave Bethany way too much time on her own).

  This afternoon would be just as torturous but for a whole other set of reasons. Carissa Dayton didn’t speak. She just nodded and stared. Lucinda always wondered what was going on in her head. Her mother Fifi spent her whole life telling everyone about how clever Carissa was. She was always coming first in this and that and giving recitals on the violin and piano and more recently the harp. Lucinda thought it was a pity that no one had ever taught her how to talk.

  Lucinda made her way across the street and disappeared into the back of the town car where her mother was waiting for her.

  Alice-Miranda, Ava and Quincy bounced along towards the 77th Street subway entrance on Lexington Avenue. As they descended the stairway, Alice-Miranda stopped and raised her nose in the air. She took in a deep breath.

  ‘What on earth are you doing?’ Quincy called back to her.

  ‘Taking it all in,’ Alice-Miranda replied. ‘I want to savour all of the smells and the sounds of the subway, seeing as this is my first time on it.’

  ‘You know, sometimes you foreign people are a little on the weird side,’ Ava giggled. ‘The subway smells like the subway.’

  ‘Oh no, it smells like cold concrete compressed with the scent of millions of travellers and the seasons and food. It’s like nothing I’ve ever come across before,’ Alice-Miranda bubbled.

  ‘Like I said, sometimes I just don’t understand you people from other countries. Anyway, hurry up or we’ll miss the next train,’ Ava urged her little friend.

  Quincy and Ava both had metro passes because they travelled on the subway every day. Alice-Miranda’s mother wanted to pre-purchase her daughter’s ticket too but Alice-Miranda insisted that she buy her own. Ava and Quincy guided her over to the ticket machine where they quickly worked out what to do and then helped another man, who was on holiday from Sweden, work out how to buy his pass too.

  The girls then proceeded through the turnstile and descended another flight of stairs to the platform below.