by Mandy Baggot
‘Well, you can’t be any worse than me. In fact if there is anyone worse than me I’d really like to meet them,’ Hayley said.
‘OK,’ Oliver said, clapping his hands together. ‘Now I’ve been put on the spot I think I ought to get out on the ice and show you what I’ve got.’
‘Oh my God are you going to wave your hands in the air like you just don’t care?’ Hayley asked, slipping on her jumper sleeves.
‘Only if you do. Wait, you’ll need both your hands to hold on to the barrier,’ he teased.
Angel laughed. ‘That’s funny.’
‘Right, that’s it! You’re going down, mister!’
55
Dean Walker’s Apartment, Downtown Manhattan
Angel had been standing in front of the mirror in Dean’s hall for the past twenty minutes. First her hair had been down – brushed flat – then it had been parted and palmed into position – then it had been swung up into a high ponytail. Now she was trying to plait it but Hayley could see she was all fingers and thumbs.
‘Do you want me to …’
‘No.’ Angel shook her head.
‘I’ll do it really quickly.’
‘That’s the problem. It won’t look right.’ Angel let out a heavy sigh.
Hayley knew what this was because she was feeling exactly the same. It was trepidation. Angel’s very first outing alone with her newly found dad.
Without asking, Hayley stepped forward and began braiding Angel’s hair.
‘The one thing we can’t have happen is Michel turning up and you looking like a walking, talking fashion alert,’ Hayley stated, trying to lighten the mood.
She lifted her eyes from the plaits and looked at Angel’s reflection. Her daughter was tight-lipped and lacking the enthusiasm that had oozed so readily when this trip was planned after ice skating.
This was going to be the only real time she had let Angel go. She was about to entrust a man she barely knew to take her daughter into the heart of a heaving, over-populated metropolis. The school day trip to the science museum in London had set her teeth on edge when Angel was seven, but this was something else completely.
‘So where did he say he’s taking you?’ Hayley asked, slipping the three strands of hair together.
She knew exactly where Michel planned to take Angel. There was no way she’d let him have her without knowing every stop on the agenda and a definite time to be back home. But she wanted to hear it from Angel. Hope the planned activities would reignite her spirit.
‘On a horse and carriage ride and then lunch at the House of Sandwich,’ Angel said, her voice monotone.
‘Let’s have a little more feeling for those horses. They work hard every day of the year. Do you want to take a carrot?’ Hayley suggested.
Angel shook her head.
‘Keep still or these plaits are going to fall out and you might end up with the soft perm look like her.’ Hayley moved her eyes towards the photo of Shirley Bassey.
‘What are we going to talk about?’ Angel blurted out.
Hayley let out a rush of air as she tied one plait into place. ‘Angel Walker, if there’s one thing you’ve always been excellent at it’s talking.’ Hayley smiled. ‘I’ve been coaching you in this area for years.’
Angel met her eyes in the mirror then. ‘We’ve only talked about drawing and stuff … and you were there last time.’
Hayley let go of Angel’s second pigtail and put both of her hands on her daughter’s shoulders.
‘Is that what you’re worried about? Being with Michel on your own?’ Hayley asked softly.
‘No,’ Angel answered immediately. It was obvious the real answer was yes.
Hayley swallowed. What should she do here? Her maternal instincts were telling her to bundle Angel up in a hug and tell her she’d come along too, the other part of her was advising she didn’t do that just yet.
‘Well, you always tell me about school. I bet Michel would love to hear about the time that boy brought in a photo of the Chelsea football club owner when you were doing about the Romans.’
The beginnings of a smiled formed on Angel’s lips.
‘Or you could tell him about the brilliant firework display we went to this year. Eating toffee apples until our teeth stuck together.’
Angel shook her head.
‘Keep still. I’m nearly done.’ Hayley tied up the plait.
‘Will you come with us, Mum?’
Angel’s plea tugged at her but she maintained what she hoped was an unreadable expression as Angel surveyed her in the mirror.
Oliver was seeing his mother tonight so Hayley planned to stay in with her ideas book and notes for the fundraiser then Dean’s cable channels until Angel got home. The ice-skating had been so much more than circles around the rink. It had seemed to start a new phase for everyone. Michel had delighted in Angel. Father and daughter with pink cheeks and excited eyes as they raced each other around the ice and Oliver had joined in too. He and Angel had paired up to beat Michel when the cones came out and a slalom ensued. He was good with her. He made her laugh. He was making it look like he wasn’t trying too hard. And it seemed natural, no matter how crazy the whole situation really was. And it really was. She swallowed. There were moments when she thought about what it would be like to lose Oliver, if this faulty gene claimed him. She tightened the band on Angel’s hair. She tried not to let those thoughts seep too deep. She’d only just found him. She wasn’t about to give up easily.
The buzz of the intercom broke the silence.
‘He’s here,’ Angel whispered.
Hayley turned her daughter around to face her.
‘Listen,’ she paused. ‘This is exciting! This is your dad, taking you out!’ She took another breath. ‘I searched for months for him and … Oliver looked too,’ Hayley added.
‘He did?’ There was surprise on Angel’s face.
‘Yes he did. So, you see, a lot of people have been wanting to get you your Christmas wish, Angel.’
‘It isn’t that I don’t want to go. I really do. It’s just …’
Hayley knew how Angel was feeling. Until a few days ago her daughter had known nothing about the search for Michel. Now he was here and it was all very real.
Hayley smiled. ‘I know. It’s OK.’ She squeezed Angel into a hug. ‘If you want me to come, I’ll come but let’s go and answer the door.’
* * *
Horse and carriage – Central Park
The horse was called Marco but Angel had decided to call it Snowy given it was a dappled grey who had almost been camouflaged against the snow on buildings, street and trees when they’d boarded. A white carriage, red and black canopy up to stave off the winter weather and a driver dressed in top hat and tails. Only in New York!
Now Hayley was sat on a red velveteen seat, close to Angel, snuggled under a tartan blanket, her teeth chattering as a strong wind blew snowflakes at them as they trotted through the park.
Central Park looked like the icing on top of a rich Christmas cake, with tree decorations sparkling with frost. Compared to the towering buildings encasing them, it was a patch of serenity, the only noise being the faint beep of car horns, Marco’s hooves and a saxophonist playing jazz who was braving the inclement weather.
‘This is the best way to see this part of New York,’ Michel stated. He was sat on the seat opposite them, a rug over his knees, snowflakes settling on his coat and in his hair.
Hayley smiled. Michel had been fine about her coming with Angel. She could tell he was nervous too and she didn’t blame him. This was a big step forward in their relationship. ‘When do we have to stop to pick up Marco’s poop?’
‘Mum!’ Angel exclaimed.
‘What? Did you not see the buckets hanging underneath the carriage?’ She turned to Angel. ‘You’re so good at doing that for Randy, maybe you could volunteer.’
Angel pulled a face and then quickly smiled at her father. ‘What’s your favourite New York building, Michel?’
> Michel rubbed his hands together and blew some hot breath onto his fingers. ‘That is a hard question.’
‘Oh it isn’t,’ Hayley said. ‘It has to be the Statue of Liberty. She’s strong, she’s feminine and she’s green. What’s not to love?’
‘Mum, the Statue of Liberty isn’t a building,’ Angel corrected.
‘Well, landmark then. She’s my favourite landmark.’
‘I like the Brooklyn Museum,’ Michel answered. ‘It’s near to where I live.’ He directed a smile at Hayley. ‘There is a replica of the Statue of Liberty there.’
‘Can we go there?’ Angel asked.
‘Yes, of course.’ Michel looked to Hayley again. ‘If this is OK with your mum.’
Hayley smiled as the carriage came to a halt.
‘Angel,’ Michel said, sitting forward in his seat and holding a bag out to her. ‘You would like to feed the horse?’
Angel’s face lit up. ‘You brought carrots? Mum said to bring a carrot but …’
‘Apples actually,’ Michel interrupted.
Angel didn’t need to be told twice. She grabbed the bag and jumped down from the carriage, heading across the snow for the horse up front.
‘Can you see her?’ Hayley asked, moving to the side of the carriage to keep Angel in her line of sight.
‘Yes, I can see her,’ Michel said. ‘Why don’t you come and sit over here?’ He patted the banquette next to him.
Hayley stood up, holding onto the blanket and dropped down next to Michel, settling when she could clearly see Angel offering an apple on the flat of her hand to Marco.
‘She was nervous for today,’ Michel remarked.
‘You guessed,’ Hayley said. She sighed. ‘Yes, it wasn’t me being overprotective, although I seriously am. She was just a little apprehensive, worried about what to talk about, that sort of thing.’
‘Me too,’ Michel admitted. ‘It is all so very different and I want things to go well.’
‘I know,’ Hayley answered.
‘I feel as if every small moment is magnified a thousand times.’ Michel let out a breath. ‘This carriage ride through the park, feels like something monumental.’
‘You mustn’t overthink it,’ Hayley said. ‘That’s what Angel’s doing too. You both need to relax. Just be yourselves.’
Michel ran his hand through his hair, snowflakes fluttering into the air as he moved. ‘I feel I have so much to make up for.’
‘No,’ Hayley shook her head. ‘I have so much to make up for.’ She pulled the blanket up over her body. ‘I should have told you when it happened.’
‘We said we would not talk about the past,’ Michel reminded her.
‘I know I just …’
‘Cannot ever stop talking?’ Michel said, smiling. ‘I remember this about you.’
She nodded. ‘I’m taking memorable as good, seeing as we had a child together.’ She watched Angel petting the horse, slipping her fingers between the hairs of its mane.
‘You are getting serious with Oliver?’ Michel asked.
His question surprised her for a second and she had to stall a little, playing with the fringing on the rug before she made her answer. Despite Dean’s first remarks insinuating she might be looking for Michel with a view to the whole mother/father/daughter package there was no reignited spark. Michel was still an attractive guy but there was no chemistry fizzing. Was that why he was asking about Oliver? She looked to him then, analysing his expression. No, there was no flicker of desire from what she could tell.
She sighed. ‘We have a distance issue. He’s here in New York and I live in England.’ She put a finger to her lips, biting on the nail before continuing. ‘But I haven’t felt for anyone what I feel for him.’ She laughed then. ‘Which is completely crazy because it’s so new.’
Michel shrugged. ‘Some of the best things in life are new and come out of the blue.’
Hayley watched his eyes go to Angel then and her heart warmed. This was going to be OK.
56
Restaurant Romario, Greenwich Village
Angel speared an olive with her fork, missed its centre and sent it flying off the table and onto the floor. Hayley raised her eyes at her daughter and cast a glance out the window at the worsening weather. The snowfall had continued relentlessly the last few days and now there was a good couple of feet in places that hadn’t been cleared by the ploughs. Michel had started to become almost a constant in their lives much to Angel’s pleasure. Finally, just yesterday, Angel had gone out with him alone, to the Brooklyn Museum. Angel having her father in her life had also softened the edges around the conversation they’d had about Oliver being a little more than Dean’s boss. Angel hadn’t said very much and Hayley hadn’t pushed the subject. Her daughter was having to take on so much at the moment it wasn’t fair to expect her to adjust to everything overnight. But she knew Hayley and Oliver were dating and for the time being he was still called Mr Meanie. Hayley still didn’t know when she was going to explain Oliver’s health issues, if at all. The truth was, they hadn’t talked about it much themselves. They’d spent the last couple of days just enjoying being together. Eating burgers bigger than dinner plates, browsing the shops on Fifth Avenue, taking in the sights and sounds of a city gearing up for Christmas. Oliver’s heart condition and the McArthur Foundation fundraiser – those two topics were strictly off the agenda for now.
‘More garlic bread, Angel?’ Tony asked, winking at her.
‘Tony, if you give that child any more garlic bread she’s going to be keeping vampires away for the foreseeable future,’ Cynthia stated, raising her head from her leather portfolio.
‘My dad likes garlic bread. We had some for lunch the other day,’ Angel informed.
‘Want to see how we make it here?’ Tony offered. ‘Special, secret recipe dough,’ Tony informed.
Angel stood up, scraping back her chair. ‘Can I, Mum?’
‘No eating it,’ Hayley warned.
‘Come on,’ Tony encouraged. ‘What happens in the kitchen stays in the kitchen.’
Hayley took a sip of the white wine she badly needed and pushed a piece of paper towards Cynthia. ‘Here’s the details of the table magician.’
Subtle, she’d found, was the best way with Cynthia. The woman looked at the print-out with a dubious expression on her face.
‘He comes highly recommended. I spoke to three hotels that have had him work there. He’s been on TV and he even supported David Copperfield back in the day.’
‘And you think the fundraiser attendees will find this appealing?’ Cynthia asked with scepticism.
‘Have you ever had a table magician before?’
‘No and there’s probably a very good reason for that.’
‘Illusion is really on trend, Cynthia, I promise you.’
‘Is he expensive?’
‘No, and with my magical skills of persuasion I reckon I can get him for a song … well … a trick … you know what I’m saying.’
Cynthia sighed and let the paper drop to the tablecloth. ‘It’s futile to oppose, I’m guessing.’
Hayley grinned. ‘You won’t regret it.’
Cynthia gave her a warning look over the top of her designer reading glasses. ‘No live animals.’
‘I promise,’ Hayley said, slipping the magician’s details into place.
‘So,’ Cynthia said, closing her folder and taking a grip of her wineglass. ‘You and Oliver.’
Hayley swallowed. They hadn’t talked about this at all. She knew Cynthia knew and she was sure Cynthia knew Hayley knew she knew but she didn’t know how to broach the subject. She had gone from terrible hygiene operative to fundraiser planner then to the girlfriend of Cynthia’s son in such a short space of time. They’d only talked business. There had been a lot to organise. And she had been avoiding it.
‘Yes, it’s becoming a thing since the embarrassing ice skating photos made the papers.’
Cynthia smiled. ‘I haven’t seen him look so happy in
years.’
Hayley nodded and clutched her wine glass a little tighter. Oliver’s condition was at the forefront of her mind. She took a breath. ‘How did you do it?’
‘Do what?’
‘Love someone who wasn’t going to live a long life and not let it seep into everything.’ Hayley shook her head. ‘When he first told me it didn’t make a difference. I care for him so much it just seemed unimportant …’
‘And now?’ Cynthia asked.
‘Nothing’s changed, I still want to see where this is going and I feel more for him than I’ve ever felt for anybody, but knowing what I know makes me question everything.’ She sighed. ‘Is this going to be the last burger we share together? Could this kiss goodnight be it for us? Should he be running around the park or should he be taking things easy? What happens when Angel eventually accepts him and gets too close?’
‘Never, ever think about it during sex,’ Cynthia stated.
‘Whoa!’ Hayley said, clapping her hands over her ears. ‘Table magician, table magician.’
Cynthia laughed. ‘Listen, although Ben and Oliver’s grandfather died young, before we lost Ben we didn’t know about the gene. I’ve had most of my life not having to think about it. Which is why you have to persuade Oliver to do the sensible thing.’
‘The sensible thing?’
Cynthia sucked air in through her teeth. ‘I knew he wouldn’t have told you all of it.’ She shook her head, her set blonde hair moving only slightly. ‘There’s a chance he might not have the gene,’ she stated. ‘There’s a test.’
Hayley was mid-sip and she coughed, trying to hold onto her wine. ‘What?’
‘Last year, just before Richard died, we had a letter from a consultant, a heart specialist. His team had done extensive research into the condition and they had come up with a test that can detect the abnormality. They offered Richard and Oliver the chance to take it, to rule out or rule in the condition.’
‘And they didn’t take it?!’ Hayley exclaimed.