by Mandy Baggot
Hayley checked the address on the paper again. This couldn’t be where Michel lived, it was too … big. The brownstone she was looking up at had one large door at its centre and an arched window either side. Above were two more storeys. It had to be converted into apartments, didn’t it? Either that or he was a highly successful artist or something else now. She swallowed and thought about phoning him again. Three calls before she’d set off from Dean’s apartment had proved fruitless and she couldn’t bring herself to leave a message. Hi, I’m Hayley. You might not remember me, but we met ten years ago and I had your daughter. Ringing the bell and having a face to face was the only way.
She walked up the steps to the entrance and drew in a heavy breath. What was she going to say? How did she start? Would he even remember her? This situation called for every ounce of bravery she had.
She pressed the bell and waited. Beyoncé’s ‘Single Ladies’ erupted from the bottom of her rucksack. She ignored it, looking through the glass of the door for any signs of movement. The phone persisted, the whole of the first verse and the start of the chorus. No one was coming to the door. Hayley unzipped her rucksack and ferreted her hands around the contents to retrieve the phone. Dean.
‘Hello,’ she answered.
‘Hey, er, you need to come back here,’ Dean said without further explanation. He sounded guarded, like he couldn’t speak because someone was holding a gun to his head. Or something bad involving Angel had happened. Her heart jumped at that thought.
‘What’s happened? Is Angel OK?’ She put a hand to her chest as palpitations threatened.
‘Angel’s fine …’ Dean lowered his voice. ‘You won’t believe this, Hayley.’ He whispered. ‘Michel is here.’
* * *
Manhattan Wheelers’ Football Ground, Manhattan
‘Come on, Danny! Hurt them!’
Oliver had heard Tony’s voice as soon as he started mounting the bleachers at the game. Every step he took towards his friend in the midst of the middle row brought back memories. The grass was still speckled with snow where ground workers had cleared it, and the bright white lines on the turf were freshly marked. He inhaled, smelling the grease of the burgers and fries from the catering van, just a hint of liniment and sweat. The shouts from the players and the barracking from the stands had once been comforts, now they just taunted him.
He excused himself past other spectators until he was next to Tony. His friend was red-faced, Manhattan Wheelers beanie on his head and half a hot dog hanging from his mouth.
‘Room for another one?’ Oliver asked, already sinking to the bench. He pulled his hat further down his head and blew on his fingers.
Tony dropped his hot dog roll to the floor. ‘Jeez! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?’ He stuffed the remaining sausage between his teeth. ‘No pun intended there by the way.’
Oliver shook his head, a smile on his face. ‘What’s the score?’
‘They’re getting their asses kicked and Danny’s playing like he’s never seen a ball before.’ Tony got to his feet, gesticulating hard to one of the players. ‘What the hell was that? Are you insane?!’
Danny was Tony’s fifteen-year-old nephew who had always been touted by Tony as the star player of the outfit. But Oliver also knew that Uncle Tony was hard to please.
‘So what are you doing here? You haven’t been here since …’ Tony started, retaking his seat.
‘Since my father died,’ Oliver stated. For a long time after his dream of playing professional football was gone he’d come along to these small-time games with Tony and Richard. He knew it made his father feel better, thinking they could share something that wasn’t connected with Drummond Global.
‘Well, if I’m honest with you, you haven’t missed that much.’ Tony stood again. ‘Will you look at that, referee?! You’re killing me right now!’
Oliver waited for Tony to sit back down before speaking again. ‘One of my employees was giving Andrew Regis the heads-up on my new tablet.’ Oliver put his hands into the pockets of his woollen coat. ‘He had no intention of merging with Drummond Global he just wanted to steal our ideas.’
‘The sneaky bastard! I knew he couldn’t be trusted. Didn’t I say he couldn’t be trusted?’ Tony exclaimed. ‘So what happens now?’
‘I don’t know really. I try to get my life in order I guess.’
‘You’re going to suck it up and go home for Christmas?’
‘Maybe. Sophia and Pablo were both there this morning doing their very best to convince me.’
‘And you’re gonna book a couple of tables at the McArthur Foundation fundraiser? Put me down for two seats, I’m sure I can score a plus-one by then.’
The fundraiser was the only thing Oliver and Cynthia hadn’t discussed. He knew she would still want him to speak and he wasn’t prepared to change his mind about that.
‘I’m going to take some time out.’
‘Yeah, of course you are,’ Tony said. ‘And that was Santa Claus right there, flying over the Hudson.’
Oliver smiled. ‘I’m serious.’ He needed to do what was best for the company and, more importantly, he needed to do what was best for him. He didn’t want to spend whatever time he had left being so dissatisfied with everything that he made himself and every single person around him miserable.
‘Oh, jeez, Oliver, you’re not going to make a bucket list are you? I’m not freaking asking you what your wish is.’ Tony leapt up again. ‘Danny, that quarterback is making a monkey out of you.’
‘I thought I might try making pizzas for a while. You got any work going?’
Tony laughed out loud. ‘You’re freaking me out now, man.’
Oliver slapped him on the back.
‘So, tell me, where does Hayley feature in these “time out” plans?’ Tony focussed all his attention on Oliver then.
He swallowed, still a little surprised that the mention of her name moved him so much. Had she called Michel? Of course she had. Finding her daughter’s father was her whole reason for coming to New York.
‘Listen, I spent an evening watching you with her. You lit up like the Rockefeller Christmas tree just from conversation,’ Tony told him. ‘And then there was the whole foot thing.’
Oliver shot him a look of disdain. ‘Tony Romario, you are perverted.’
‘Yeah,’ Tony nodded. ‘Maybe I am. But you’re a fool.’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘Tell the girl you’re dying and let her make her own decisions. Not ones you’ve made for her.’
50
Dean Walker’s Apartment, Downtown Manhattan
Dean opened the front door and Hayley bowled through it. ‘You’d better tell me exactly what he said to you and what you said to him and what Angel said to anybody.’
‘Slow down,’ Dean said. ‘Take a breath.’ He followed her towards the stairs.
‘Take a breath?! He’s up there with the daughter he doesn’t know he has. Why didn’t he just ring?! Why did he have to turn up here? What’s he even doing here?’
‘I know, it’s Sod’s Law.’
‘I want to kill Sod right about now.’ She put a hand to her head, trying to press away the tension with her fingers.
‘What do you want me to do? Do you want me to take Angel out somewhere so you can talk to him alone? I’ll do whatever you want me to do. Just tell me,’ Dean said.
‘What have you said to him? What have you said to Angel?’
‘He knocked on the door, he said he was looking for you, that you’d left this address at Vipers.’ Dean sighed and put his hand to his head as he recalled the scene. ‘I asked him in, I said you wouldn’t be long, I made him a coffee, I told Angel he was a friend and …’
Hayley clamped a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh my God, no, Dean, she knows it’s him. I showed her a photo!’ She ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and burst into the main room, her breath catching in her throat. The scene before her stole what little breath she had left.
Angel was sat on the arm of
the sofa holding a foolscap pad and there he was, Michel, Angel’s father, sat next to his daughter, sketching with her. He looked completely unchanged. He was wearing jeans and battered Converse sneakers, a tie-dye T-shirt, his hair still tousled.
‘So,’ Hayley started, making herself move. ‘What’s going on here then?’
Angel looked up, a serene yet slightly scary smile on her face. ‘Michel is here.’
‘I can see that,’ Hayley stated, stepping closer.
‘Hello, Hayley,’ Michel greeted, putting the pad down and standing up. He stepped forward and quickly kissed her on both cheeks. Angel started to clap and Hayley shot a look to Dean for some help.
‘So, Angel, let’s go find Randy and Vernon and take them for a walk,’ Dean offered, taking his niece by the arm.
‘But I don’t want to. I want to stay here,’ Angel protested, pulling a scowl.
Hayley swallowed. ‘Angel, please, go with Uncle Dean.’
Michel had walked into this situation with absolutely no prior warning. She needed to tell him in a controlled way, so he had a chance to react to it without Angel being here. He deserved that at the very least.
Angel folded her arms across her chest and looked indignant. ‘It’s not fair.’
‘Double waffles and hot chocolate?’ Dean tempted. ‘Let’s get your coat.’ He shepherded Angel from the room and Hayley collapsed into the chair opposite Michel. How did she begin? When she eventually found the strength to meet his eyes, he was gazing back at her.
‘You have done something a little different with your hair,’ he started.
‘You haven’t.’
He smiled, put a hand to it. ‘It has been a long time since we saw each other last.’
‘You do remember then?’ Hayley asked. ‘One wild night under the influence of wine and vodka.’
‘But, of course. It is impossible to forget someone who wore a neon pink dress and danced so crazy.’
She blew out a breath. That was something. Not that it would make it any easier. ‘You changed your name.’ And it was agony trying to find you, she wanted to add.
‘Yes, for my job. It was a suggestion from my agent. He thought Michel Arment had more appeal.’
‘Wow,’ Hayley stated. ‘An agent.’
‘So, you live here now? In New York?’ he asked her. ‘With the man that was here?’
She shook her head. ‘No. Dean’s my brother. I’m just visiting.’ She swallowed. ‘I still live in England. We live in England.’
He nodded. ‘I have travelled quite a lot. I go back to Belgium for a time, then to France, but I come back here two years ago. My art goes well here, people like it and they buy it.’
‘That’s good,’ Hayley nodded.
She watched Michel’s eyebrows knit together as he looked at her. ‘You want to catch up? To go out together?’ he asked. ‘That is why you try to find me?’
She shook her head. ‘Not exactly, no.’
‘Then …’
She squeezed her eyes tight shut. If she could pay someone to come in and deliver this news for her then she would. Like a kissogram service but not. He was here. It was what she’d wanted. She needed to get it over with.
‘There’s no easy way to tell you this.’ Hayley drew in a breath that had her ribs bursting for relief. ‘Our night together all those years ago … we didn’t just make love, Michel, we made a baby.’ She screwed her eyes shut again. ‘I got pregnant and I had your baby.’
There. It was done. Out in the open. The only thing to be afraid of now was his reaction.
She dared to open one eye and watched the colour fall from his face. He leant forward, put his face in his hands, dragging his fingers down the skin, eyes wide with shock. He wet his lips and opened his mouth to speak. ‘The girl who was here …’
Hayley nodded. ‘Yes, that’s her. That’s Angel.’
He shook his head. ‘I do not believe this.’
‘I know it must be a shock and I never had any intention of getting you involved, but Angel, she has this dream to meet her father and I just want to make her happy. That’s all I’ve ever tried to do.’
‘I mean … how could you do this?’
‘What?’
‘Ten years ago you have a child and … I do not … I cannot.’ His voice was raising in volume and his agitation was clear to see. He got to his feet, kicking at the wooden flooring and heading towards the Christmas tree. He threw his arms up in the air, bells on Bruce’s branches reacting as his fingertips swiped at them.
‘You say you were careful … I ask you this!’
‘I was drunk, Michel! And young and stupid!’
‘Ten years, Hayley,’ Michel stated.
‘I know how long it’s been.’
‘You do not find me when you know you are pregnant.’
‘Well, no, I mean, you were here and I was in England and we were both young. You wouldn’t want to settle down with a child. You had dreams to paint and take pictures, see the world.’
‘So you do not tell me?’
‘I …’ Hayley moved her eyes away. She didn’t know what she had been expecting but it hadn’t been this. So much anger and accusation.
‘You do not give me the choice?’
‘It was my problem.’ She swallowed, instantly regretting the word ‘problem’. Her mother had told her what to do and she had let her, too ashamed, too overwhelmed to have an opinion. He wouldn’t want to know. He was on the other side of the world.
‘I didn’t think …’ she began.
‘That is obvious.’ He made a noise of irritation like someone had pushed past him on the street.
She tried to even out her voice, taking a breath before continuing. ‘Listen, we have to deal with the situation as it stands now. I have a nine-year-old daughter who made a wish this year to meet her father. Your daughter. Now, it’s up to you.’
She waited for her words to sink in, watching him shift his feet, rubbing one trainer up against the other. He turned to face the window and Hayley watched him as the snowflakes flashed past the glass. What was he going to do?
He turned around to face her and she swallowed.
‘I am allowed to have a decision now, yes?’ Michel spat.
She opened her mouth, unsure what was going to come out. ‘Yes … of course … I …’
She watched him suck in a breath that filled his wiry frame, rocking him slightly until his hair fell over his face. What was he going to say?
‘I can’t deal with this, Hayley.’ He put his hands into his hair, wrapping it around his fingers until he was pulling it like someone in complete turmoil. ‘I just can’t deal with this.’
‘Listen … I know it’s a big thing … a huge thing but … nothing has to change for you. I mean, we can …’ She was talking so quickly none of the words were coming out how she wanted them to. She just needed him to know that Angel just wanted the chance to get to know where she had come from.
‘Nothing has to change?!’ He shook his head, his hair responding to the motion. ‘You tell me I have a child! Everything has changed!’
She could feel the tears at the very edge of her eyelids. One blink and they would be slipping down her face. She had to hold it together.
‘I’m sorry.’ He strode towards her but moved past, heading for the door. ‘I can’t do this.’
‘Michel, please,’ she begged, reaching for his arm.
He shook her off and before she was really fully aware of it, she was hearing footfalls on the stairs and the slam of Dean’s front door.
51
Dean Walker’s Apartment, Downtown Manhattan
Hayley couldn’t believe he’d walked out. Was her mother right? Was that what would have happened if she’d told him ten years ago? She was hurt and disappointed. Yes, she’d only known him one night back then, but he’d been kind and decent and hadn’t behaved like someone who was going to run the second something unexpected happened. This was all her fault. From beginning to end it had b
een a disaster and now Angel was going to be bearing the brunt of all those mistakes. It was even worse that Angel had actually met him. Now she would think he didn’t want to know her. She had meant to protect her from that.
She wiped at her tear-stained eyes and blew her nose as she heard sounds from downstairs. Angel, Dean, Vernon and Randy were back. She had no idea what she was going to say. She couldn’t tell Angel the truth. What was the truth anyway? Michel had just been told he had a nine-year-old daughter. You didn’t get over that in a New York minute. He couldn’t leave things how they were, could he? He would come round. He had to.
Hayley rushed to the sink, splashing cold water on her face and rubbing it dry with the Union Jack tea towel. She had this situation.
And then the door opened and Randy burst through it, his claws skittering over the wood floor towards her, bow tie shining from his furry neck. The dog leapt up at her knee and she stroked its head.
‘Hey,’ Dean greeted cautiously.
‘Hey! Did you have double waffles and hot chocolate?’ Hayley asked like she was an excited children’s television presenter.
Angel was already pouting, her eyes roving over the empty lounge room. ‘Where’s Michel?’
‘Michel?’ She put a question mark at the end of his name which was an instant mistake. She wet her lips and tried again. ‘He had to go. He had an exhibition to get ready for tomorrow.’ More lies.
‘Why don’t we read Randy your favourite Christmas story?’ Vernon suggested to Angel.
‘Did you tell him about me?’ Angel asked.
The look on her daughter’s face was killing her. So much hope was written there, so much love too. This meant everything to Angel and she wasn’t about to rip that apart until absolutely necessary.
‘Yes,’ Hayley said, eyes shining with more tears. ‘Yes, I did.’ She swallowed. ‘It’s a big thing … a really big thing to take in and … he’s doing so well with his art and he’s really busy right now.’ She paused. ‘We just need to give him a little bit of time.’