First We Take Manhattan

by Colette Caddle

  ‘Yeah, I thought I could tell a white lie, say I’d come home for the interview and didn’t let them know because I didn’t want to get their hopes up.’

  ‘Good thinking. You know you really don’t have to move in with them, Krystie. It would make more sense to live here given you’re going to be working a ten-minute train ride away. Think of the hassle it’s going to be commuting from Ballymun every day.’

  Sharon was right: living here would make more sense, and moving back in with your parents after so many years just didn’t feel right. ‘It would be great, but are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to have the place back to yourself?’

  ‘No, it’s great to have company and –’ Sharon grinned – ‘a chef.’

  ‘Then I’d love to stay, thanks.’

  Sharon squealed and hugged her. ‘Brilliant!’

  ‘But I’d better go home for Christmas,’ she added. Christmas was a big family occasion in the Kelliher household.

  ‘Do what I do: just join them for the day. If I had the guts I wouldn’t even do that. My family are all completely mad. There’s a lot to be said for spending the silly season with strangers.’

  Krystie laughed. ‘There is, but I haven’t been home for Christmas in a couple of years and I kind of like all that traditional stuff and the home cooking. If it wasn’t for Fallon it would be great. She could start a row in heaven.’

  Sharon took a sip of wine. ‘I haven’t had the chance to ask you: are you happy about the job or are you just taking it for the money?’

  ‘Are you kidding? I’m thrilled. Sinéad Fields is a brilliant designer and it will be fantastic to work with her.’

  ‘It won’t be long before you’re in the fashion magazines: “Milliner Krystie Kelliher out on the town”.’

  Krystie laughed. ‘Sounds good to me.’

  ‘Imagine, someone wearing one of your hats could win the Best-Dressed Lady at the Galway Races or the Dublin Horse Show,’ Sharon said, wide-eyed.

  ‘I know. This is really a great opportunity for me, Sharon. It’s a small operation but it has the potential to be huge.’

  ‘It probably would be already if Sheila hadn’t died.’

  ‘Yes,’ Krystie agreed.

  ‘I remember seeing the two of them on TV,’ Sharon continued. ‘They looked gorgeous and seemed so nice. Everyone was thrilled and proud of their success. It was the kind of story that gives people a lift; a dream come true. And then the dream turned into a tragedy. It was the first thing on the news for days, there was a huge search. It was dreadful that they never found her body. I always think that must be very hard on a family.’

  ‘Yes, very hard. So did everyone assume she’d killed herself?’

  ‘It seemed the only real possibility, but why on earth would she?’ Sharon asked.

  ‘No idea. You would think she would be on a complete high and enjoying every second of their success.’

  ‘Maybe she was on a high.’ Sharon reached for the wine and topped up their glasses.

  ‘Drugs?’ Krystie laughed at the thought. ‘I find that hard to believe. Sheila was very mature for her age and quite conservative. The two couldn’t be more different. Mind you, Sinéad’s changed so dramatically. She looks more like her sister now than ever before—’ Krystie stopped.

  Sharon immediately put down her glass and put a hand on her arm. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Yeah, fine. I just had this weird déjà vu moment.’ Krystie shook her head.

  ‘So are you really starting on Monday?’

  ‘I start training on Monday. I have a lot to learn but I can’t wait.’

  ‘I’m delighted for you,’ Sharon said and, getting to her feet, carried the empty plates outside. ‘I’m going to have a nice long soak in the bath with my wine and my book for company. Why don’t you call your folks?’

  ‘I will. It’s great now that I have some good news to give them.’

  Krystie smiled when she heard her father’s voice. ‘Hi, Da, it’s me.’

  ‘Krystie?’

  Her smile broadened at the obvious delight in his voice. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Hello, sweetheart, how are you? Keeping all right?’

  ‘I’m fine, Da, how are you?’

  ‘Grand. I’ve been looking at the weather reports in New York. Bloody cold.’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘Hang on, I’ll get your mother. Peg! Peg, it’s Krystie,’ he roared. ‘You mind yourself, sweetheart.’

  ‘Da—’ But he was already gone. Moments later Krystie heard some fumbling and then her mother’s voice. ‘Krystie. Is everything okay? It’s been ages since we’ve heard from you. I was worried.’

  Krystie cringed at the reproach in her mother’s voice. ‘I’m fine, Ma, honestly. I’ve never felt better. Sorry I haven’t been in touch but I’ve been pretty busy.’

  ‘A quick call to let us know that you’re okay wouldn’t take that much time.’

  ‘No, you’re right, I’m sorry. But I have some news, Ma.’ Krystie took a deep breath. ‘I’m in Dublin.’

  ‘Ah, that’s great news. Have you just landed? I’ll get your da to collect you.’

  ‘No, I’ve been home a few days. I’m in Greystones with Sharon.’

  There was a pregnant pause on the other end of the line. ‘I don’t understand.’

  Krystie crossed her fingers. ‘I had a job interview and I didn’t want to get your hopes up, Ma, but, well, I got it.’

  ‘You got a job? Here in Dublin?’

  Krystie grinned. ‘Yep.’

  ‘Oh, my God, that’s wonderful news. You’re home for good. Larry? Larry, she’s home!’

  Krystie held the phone away from her ear and laughed. ‘I suppose that depends on whether the job works out but, yeah, looks like I might well be.’

  ‘So tell me all about it.’

  Krystie wasn’t surprised that there was another shriek when she said she was going to be working alongside Sinéad Fields.

  ‘It was so sad about her poor sister,’ her ma said after she’d calmed down. ‘Are you taking her place?’

  Krystie shivered at the thought. ‘I wouldn’t say that. I imagine I’ll just be Sinéad’s assistant until I’ve learned the ropes.’

  ‘I’m delighted, love. But why are you all the way out in Greystones when there’s a room here for you?’

  ‘I’m going to be working in Blackrock, so it makes a lot more sense for me to live over here.’

  There was a short silence and then a resigned sigh. ‘Well, if that’s what you want, but, if you change your mind, you only have to say.’

  ‘I know. Thanks, Ma.’

  ‘I’m so glad you’ll be here for Christmas. It hasn’t been the same without you these last couple of years. We’ll have a grand time. We’re all going to Alexis for tea on Christmas Eve and then to Midnight Mass from there and then everyone will be here on the day.’

  Alex was a pet and the best big sister ever, and Krystie got on well with her husband, Sam, but she still didn’t fancy spending two days with the family fending off queries about Jacob and the reason she had come home. ‘Oh, Ma, that’s weeks away yet! I’ll definitely be there on the day, but I’m not sure about Christmas Eve. Sinéad wants us to get as much done as possible before Christmas because in January we’ll be busy putting together a spring collection.’

  ‘I suppose you have to show willing in a new job,’ her mother agreed, ‘and at least you’re home. Your father and I worried about you when you were in New York.’

  ‘There was no need, Ma.’ She smiled.

  ‘When you’re a parent you never stop worrying, trust me.’

  ‘So I shouldn’t have kids, is that what you’re saying, Ma?’ Krystie teased, trying to lighten the mood.

  ‘Oh, no, love. It will be the happiest day when your father and I see you settled down with a good man to look after you and, well, if you’re blessed with children we would go to our graves content.’

  ‘Jeez, Ma, you’re only in your sixties. Wh
at’s with this doom and gloom? And you can forget about me settling down for a while: I’ve got more important things on my mind.’

  ‘Money won’t keep you warm at night,’ her mother insisted.

  ‘Nah, but I’ll be able to afford a decent electric blanket,’ Krystie retorted, laughing.

  ‘What about that lad you’re dating? What does he think of you coming home? He’s not with you, is he?’

  Krystie’s heart sank at the hope in her mother’s voice. ‘Jacob and I split up, Ma.’

  ‘I’m sorry, darling. You seemed to be getting on grand.’

  ‘I thought so too but, let’s say, the more he got to know me, the more he realised I wasn’t the woman for him.’

  ‘Then it’s his loss. You can find yourself a good Irish man.’

  Krystie smiled at the wonderfully typical answer of a loving mother. ‘I’d better go, Ma. I’ll drop over on Sunday and say hello.’

  ‘Come for lunch. I’ll do roast pork with the crackling, just the way you like it.’

  Krystie grinned. She couldn’t bring herself to tell her mother that it was Fallon who loved pork. ‘Sounds gorgeous.’

  ‘Welcome home, Krystie.’

  ‘Thanks, Ma. Goodnight.’ Krystie hung up, feeling happier. Now that she’d heard their voices and had admitted she was in town she couldn’t wait to see her folks. And she wouldn’t let Fallon get under her skin and she’d try to stop her getting under anyone else’s too. They would have a great family Christmas, she would make sure of it.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sheila woke in the early hours and glanced at the clock. Sinéad would be awake soon. It was the twenty-eighth of November and their twenty-ninth birthday. It would also be the first birthday that they hadn’t been in contact. She picked up her phone and stared at it. She could call. She could end all this but her anger and hurt stopped her dialling the number. She huddled under the covers and stared into the darkness. There was no comfort in knowing that this would be a hard day for her twin and, despite everything, Sheila knew it would be a hard day for her too. She decided not to tell Karl it was her birthday. He would want to celebrate and that was the very last thing she wanted. She turned on her side and stared at the clock, tucking her hands firmly under the pillow. She should have realised she would feel emotional today, it was completely normal. But she would get through it, and so would Sinéad.

  Sinéad woke from a rather raunchy dream involving Hugh Jackman and then realised what day it was and her good mood promptly vanished. She was twenty-nine today. She glanced at the alarm clock. It was seven forty-five. Any year they had been apart on their birthday, Sheila had always phoned at eight. She put her hand out and checked that her mobile was on, the volume was turned up and the battery was fully charged, and then snuggled down under the covers with it on the pillow beside her. Philip had thrown a party for the two of them the last three years. It had been as much about PR for both him and them as it had been about a birthday celebration. She and Sheila would have already agreed on outfits that complemented each other’s and put a lot of time and effort into the headpieces they would wear with them. On the day, they always lunched together and had then gone on to the hair salon. Seven fifty-five. Maybe . . .

  ‘Morning, Birthday Girl!’ Dylan walked in with a large mug of coffee. He set it down in front of the clock and bent to give her a long, lingering kiss.

  Sinéad broke away with a tight smile. ‘Coffee. Lovely, thanks.’ She sat up and reached for the mug, her gaze fixed on the clock.

  ‘Are you okay?’ He sat on the edge of the bed and studied her face.

  ‘Sure.’ Seven fifty-nine.

  ‘Tonight will be fine, Sinéad. You’ll be fine.’ He turned her face to his. ‘I know that you miss Sheila, but it will get easier.’

  One minute past eight. ‘Just leave it, Dylan, please?’ She choked back her tears.

  ‘Sure. Happy birthday.’ He stood up, put a small parcel on the table beside the clock and walked out of the room.

  ‘Dylan!’ she called after him just as the front door slammed. She reached for the package and glanced at the clock beyond it. Six minutes past eight. She wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand and unwrapped the gift. She opened the red velvet box and smiled at the delicate net of silver and turquoise stones. She took it out and, scrambling out of bed, went to the dressing table and held it against her neck, admiring its simple beauty. Unlike other years, she hadn’t bought a new dress for the party, but she had made a hair appointment. She’d had enough of being a brunette; she needed a lift. She walked to the wardrobe and flicking past the black outfits she’d been living in for the last few months, she started to examine her more colourful options. She drew a fitted, navy, silk cocktail dress with lace sleeves. It was low-cut, barely covering her shoulders, and would show off the necklace beautifully. She hung it on the wardrobe door and, picking up her phone, she typed a text to Dylan: ‘It’s beautiful, thank you and I’m sorry. xx.’

  As she dressed in a white shirt, short plaid skirt and black opaque tights, Dylan responded: ‘I’m glad you like it. See you this evening. xx.’

  She smiled, happy that at least that was resolved, finished getting ready for work and hurried out to her yellow Mini. She had wanted to sell it but Dylan and Max had laughed at her. ‘But it just doesn’t seem right driving something so bright and cheerful, not now.’

  ‘It’s only a bloody car,’ Dylan had said.

  ‘At least wait until January and trade it in then,’ Max said, as always thinking about the best return on investment. She heeded him but used his advice only when she had to. They could laugh, but that was the way she felt.

  When she got to the café, it was already quite busy and she had to queue along with the other workers getting their morning fix of caffeine.

  ‘Good morning and happy birthday!’ Ellen stretched across the counter to hug Sinéad, and then stepped back, her eyes dark with concern. ‘How are you doing?’

  Sinéad nodded. ‘I’m okay. I’ll have a vanilla Americano to celebrate.’

  Ellen grinned. ‘On the house, and you’d better make it two.’ She nodded towards the ceiling.

  ‘Does she sleep here?’ Sinéad laughed. Krystie was in before her nearly every morning, no matter how early she arrived.

  ‘Don’t knock it. Dedicated people are hard to find. Is she any good, that’s what’s important?’

  ‘Oh, yeah. She has a very special gift. She absorbs information like a sponge, it’s fantastic. Her biggest problem is that she’s a perfectionist and takes too long on one piece.’

  ‘But she’ll get faster as she gets used to the work, and she’s so easy to get on with.’

  ‘She’s great,’ Sinéad agreed.

  ‘And so pretty. I assume she’ll be sporting one of your pieces tonight.’

  Sinéad frowned. ‘I haven’t invited her.’

  Ellen looked surprised. ‘Oh, Sinéad, why not?’

  ‘She’s only just started and, well, I don’t want people to think I’ve replaced Sheila.’ Sinéad felt the tears well up and dug her nails into her palms. She couldn’t cry here.

  Ellen was around the counter in an instant. ‘Rory, take over,’ she called over her shoulder as she steered Sinéad towards the door that led upstairs. ‘You’re not replacing her, you’re just introducing your new assistant to your friends and prospective clients. Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry.’

  Krystie brushed the tears from her cheeks. ‘No, you’re right, Krystie should come along tonight. I’ll ask her.’

  Ellen patted her shoulder. ‘Good girl. You go on up, I’ll bring the coffee.’

  Sinéad stopped on the landing and checked her eye makeup and hair in the mirror of her compact before going into the studio. Krystie was working on a piece of pink felt and was surrounded by feathers, lace and gauze, so completely immersed in her work that she never even noticed Sinéad walk in. ‘That looks interesting,’ she said, making Krystie jump. ‘Oops, sorry
.’

  The girl laughed. ‘That’s okay. I was just in a world of my own.’

  Sinéad tossed her bag in a corner and perched on the table beside her. ‘So, what do you think? I know it’s early days, but do you think you could get to like the hat business or would you prefer, in the long term, to work in general fashion?’

  Krystie looked up, her eyes shining. ‘Oh, hats, definitely! They say so much about a woman. They do so much for a woman, inside and out. In a nice dress or coat she might feel good but when she wears a hat it gives her confidence and says to the world, “Here I am.”’

  Sinéad smiled at the passion in the girl’s voice. ‘What a wonderful way to put it. Look, Krystie, I know it’s very short notice but are you doing anything tonight?’

  ‘No, why?’

  ‘It’s my . . . our birthday. Philip, Sheila’s husband, always threw a party for us and he decided to give a more low-key affair tonight rather than ignore the day altogether.’

  ‘That’s nice.’ Krystie said, looking uncertain. ‘I’d say happy birthday, but it doesn’t seem right. It must be kind of weird for you.’

  ‘It is. Anyway we, Sheila and I, always used it as an opportunity to show off a couple of new headpieces, and so I wondered, if you’ve nothing better to do, would you like to come along?’

  ‘I’d love to! If you’re sure I won’t be intruding.’

  ‘No, of course not. This will be a good opportunity to introduce you. Most of the women who’ll be there are customers and, anyway, Philip’s idea of low-key is sixty people or more. I don’t suppose you have a dress you could wear that you made yourself?’

  Krystie thought for a moment and then grinned. ‘As it happens, I do.’

  ‘Great. What’s it like?’

  ‘It’s satin and an aubergine colour. It’s fitted to the waist and then it flares out to just above the knee with a net overskirt of the same colour. It’s long-sleeved and has a cowl neck so it looks quite prim, but the back goes into a deep V to the waist.’

  ‘That sounds amazing,’ Sinéad said, wondering yet again how this girl hadn’t been snapped up by one of the big fashion houses.