One Wish In Manhattan (A Christmas Story) (31 page)

H
ayley hadn’t slept
at all and was operating on sugar-infused lattes a waitress was bringing her every hour. She held a tape measure up to the window, popping up on tiptoes to reach the top.

‘I can help!’ Angel exclaimed, leaping up from a chair and slamming shut her special dictionary.

‘It’s OK,’ Hayley said, her spine straining as she stretched.

‘Let me,’ Angel said. She began pulling a chair across the parquet floor, the noise jabbing at every one of Hayley’s irritation senses.

‘It’s fine, Angel. Stop doing that before you scratch the very expensive floor.’ Her eyes went to the sleek wooden blocks. A scratch about twelve inches long stood out like Rudolph in the reindeer pack.

Hayley put her hands into her hair, preparing to scream. This was all she needed. Her deliveries for the fundraiser hadn’t arrived and now her daughter was intent on wrecking the venue. Did she dare called Rebecca Rogers-Smythe and ask how best to remove a scratch from vintage parquet?

‘I’m really sorry, Mum,’ Angel said, her eyes going from the mark on the floor to Hayley and back again.

This was all Oliver’s fault. She shook her head. No, that wasn’t fair, it wasn’t Oliver’s fault. What he’d done was thoughtful and amazing but that hadn’t stopped the contents of the brown envelope practically searing her skin the entire night. After Oliver had left, Hayley had slunk to her bedroom and stared at the envelope. While screams and shouts came from the living room, where it sounded like Randy was trying to tear down Bruce the Spruce, she’d tore open the seal and taken out what was inside.

There were only three pieces of A4 printer paper. One piece detailed contact information for a Michel Arment. The other was a copy of a driving licence. The third was a photo. Hayley didn’t need to look at the photo for long. There were no doubts. This man was the one she’d spent a night with. Angel’s father.

‘It’s OK,’ she breathed, putting an arm around Angel and pulling her into an embrace. ‘I’ve been cranky since the orchid lady didn’t show up.’ She stroked a hand over Angel’s hair. Did she tell her daughter yet? Should she call Michel first? There was so much riding on what she did next it was almost too much to cope with.

Angel lifted her head, smiling as she looked up at Hayley. ‘Randy looked so cute in that outfit you bought him, didn’t he?’

Hayley smiled. ‘No fashion alerts needed for that pooch. And I think Uncle Dean was secretly jealous of the waistcoat.’

Angel laughed. ‘That’s what Vernon said.’

Hayley’s eyes went over to the scratch on the wood. ‘Listen, why don’t you go and sweet-talk the waitress into getting me another latte and I’ll see if I can find something to get rid of the mark.’

‘I could see what my special dictionary suggests,’ Angel offered.

‘Good idea.’

Oliver opened his eyes, blinking at the unfamiliar surroundings for a moment, until the night before came back to him. He was at home, his family home in Westchester. His old bedroom. There was still a poster of the New York Giants from 1994 on the wall. He sat up and smoothed his hands over the shadow of stubble on his face. He felt like he’d drunk a bottle of Scotch and then been run over by a snowplough.

There was a soft knock on the bedroom door and he pulled the covers up a little. It would be Sophia with coffee.

‘Come in,’ he called.

The door opened a crack and Cynthia popped her head around it. ‘Good morning.’

‘Hey, Mom,’ he greeted.

Cynthia stepped in. He was surprised to see her dressed in casual slacks and a Rangers sweater. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d dressed down. But it wasn’t just her clothing that was slightly off, she looked exhausted, obviously worn from everything that had happened last night.

I brought you some coffee,’ she stated, moving to put the mug down on the nightstand. ‘I thought you might need it.’

‘Thanks,’ he responded. ‘It was some night.’

‘Yes, I won’t disagree about that.’

He picked up the mug, taking a drink, before returning it to the nightstand.

‘So, we talked about Andrew all last night.’

‘Yes we did.’

‘Now how about we talk about you?’ Cynthia suggested.

The question made him shift in the bed, his hands going back to the mug and lifting it again. ‘You said it yourself last night, you and the rest of the board don’t have confidence in me to lead Drummond Global.’

‘Oliver, that isn’t quite what I said.’

‘I’m not saying you’re wrong either.’ He put the mug back on the nightstand. ‘I admit, these last few months my focus has shifted.’ He swallowed. ‘And my health hasn’t been so good.’

He waited for his mother to react. She had no clue about anything that had happened recently. He watched her take it on board.

‘Tell me, Oliver.’ There were tears in her eyes. ‘I can’t help you unless you talk to me.’

What was he going to say here? He didn’t want to put any more on her plate after the shock of last night. But was it fair to hold off? He knew he would likely cause his mother more anxiety by keeping it to himself rather than laying it all out there.

‘I’ve been having pains … in my chest … shallow breathing … rapid pulse.’ Just thinking about it felt like he was calling on an attack.

Cynthia’s hands went to her mouth and she stifled a sob. ‘Oh, Oliver.’

‘Mom, I think it’s only a matter of time.’

After a morning filled with organisation for the McArthur Foundation fundraiser, Hayley had spared the afternoon to tick off one of the “must-sees” on Angel’s list of New York sights. The New York Public Library. Following this visit her plan was to leave Angel with Dean while she checked out the intel on Michel. She wasn’t going to be one hundred per cent convinced of anything until she saw Michel in the flesh, here, actually in New York. After so many dead ends and false leads, she was still cautious and she wasn’t sure quite how to feel. Of course it was what she wanted. Finding him for Angel. But piece by tiny piece it was becoming reality and she wasn’t sure what happened after that.

Her mother had sent another text. Rita was starting to get to the good stuff. In some ways it was a relief the diary had been found. She swallowed. Did she really mean that? Had she always wanted Rita to know what she was thinking? Being an ocean away made it slightly easier to deal with and there was so much going on right now it wasn’t riding high on her list of priorities.

‘You do know you’re not supposed to have your mobile on in a library,’ Angel whispered.

‘Show me the sign,’ Hayley responded.

‘Sshh!’ Angel hissed as they walked into the Rose Main Reading Room.

‘I know books are important and interesting but why was it you wanted to come here?’ Hayley asked, touching icons on the screen of her phone.

‘Wow!’ Angel said, looking up and around her.

At her daughter’s exclamation, Hayley took her eyes off the phone and looked too. Light flooded in from the arched windows on both sides of the grand room. Chandeliers hung from a ceiling that was ornately carved, paintings of cloud and blue sky at its centre. Ancient-looking wooden tables and chairs filled the floor space and underneath the large windows were rows and rows of books occupying a full-length balcony and the walls below.

‘It looks like something out of Hogwarts,’ Angel said, her tone awe-coated.

Hayley jumped as her phone began to trill, prompting a death stare from Angel.

‘Wait right here, I’ll find a place I can talk. Don’t move,’ she ordered, rushing to the door they had just walked through.

‘Hello? Yes, this is Hayley Walker … oh hello Sally-Anne, how did you get on? Can they do what I want with the lights?’

When Hayley returned to the reading room, Angel was sat at a table, a giant book open in front of her.

‘Is that a really big bible?’ Hayley joked, pulling up the chair next to her.

‘Actually it’s an encyclopaedia.’

‘This is what we used to use before we had Wikipedia,’ Hayley informed. ‘Does it have “aardvark” and “anteater” with pictures?’

Angel looked up. ‘Did you never get past the “A” section?’

‘“Bison” and “buffalo”. See if they have two separate entries for what’s basically the same thing.’

‘Who was on the phone?’ Angel asked, turning a page.

‘Sally-Anne from the lighting company. It’s a go for that effect I wanted.’

‘The one
I
suggested, you mean.’

‘OK, clever clogs, it was all your initial idea but I followed it through.’

‘And is the menu all done? You know, the idea
I
had about including food the family members loved?’ Angel batted her eyelashes at her.

Hayley folded her arms across her chest. ‘
I
came up with the slogan.’

Angel patted her arm. ‘So how much else have you got to do?’

‘Not as much as I had to do yesterday.’

‘That’s good then,’ Angel responded. ‘So apart from Nanny being mad with you, everything is fine.’

‘How do you know Nanny’s mad with me?’ She coughed. ‘Not that she is or anything.’

‘Uncle Dean got a text this morning. It said something about a lifeguard and how could he have kept secrets about you from her.’

Oh God. Daytime television had definitely been sacrificed for diary reading.

‘She isn’t happy about us looking for my dad, is she?’ Angel stated. ‘I saw the other message she sent you. She called him “that man” again.’

Hayley closed her eyes, taking a second before opening them again. ‘I’ve never really listened to what Nanny had to say about most things.’ She sighed. ‘And about your dad … she’s wrong.’

The details about Michel were in her rucksack. She could pull them out now and tell Angel he’d been found. But she knew what would happen. Dancing would ensue, eyes brightening like a neon bar sign, mouth opening in wonder as if she was Dorothy in
The Wizard of Oz
discovering the Yellow Brick Road. She had to play this carefully and protect Angel. Above all, she needed to tell Michel he had a daughter before they came face to face. A shiver ran over her.

‘Nanny’s met a man called Neville,’ Angel informed her matter-of-factly. ‘He plays bowls.’

‘What?’ Hayley shook her head, trying to get her mind back in the moment.

‘She told Uncle Dean that before she started getting mad about a lifeguard.’ Angel’s voice echoed around the cavernous room.

Dean was going to kill her for writing about the lifeguard. ‘Sshh!’ Hayley said. ‘We don’t want to be chucked out of the library. They probably inform that scary man at the desk at the airport and he has our fingerprints.’

‘Did you know that the fingerprinting system for criminals was introduced in New York in 1906?’

‘I didn’t know that.’ She swallowed. Who was Neville? She knew she didn’t listen to everything her mother said but mention of bowls and a man would have spiked her radar. ‘So, anyway … about your dad.’ She cleared her throat as quietly as she could. ‘Nanny only says things like that because she worries about us.’

‘So she likes my dad?’

‘Angel, she doesn’t know your dad.’ Hayley paused. ‘But she does know us and she doesn’t want either of us to get hurt, that’s all.’

Angel wrinkled her nose. ‘I don’t know if I agree with Nanny playing bowls with Neville.’ She sniffed. ‘We don’t know him at all.’

‘No, we don’t,’ Hayley agreed. ‘But, like us, Nanny’s going to do what she feels is right.’ She sighed. ‘Let’s just hope Neville likes gardening programmes.’

Neville could be a good thing. So could bowls, no matter how that sounded. A little social activity, her mother getting out of the house and away from re-runs of
Escape to the Country
.

Hayley turned her attention back to her phone. She typed out a text, being careful not to show Angel.

H
ayley 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.’

‘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.’