The Leaving Of Liverpool (39 page)

Annemarie was glad - not because the poor farm worker had nearly cut off his foot, but because her da wouldn’t be joining them for breakfast. His presence would cast a shadow over the room. She always sensed it, though Mollie said this only proved how daft she was.
She
sensed nothing at all.

‘Good morning,’ said a voice.

Anne opened her eyes with the feeling she’d just had a lovely dream. The voice belonged to a man who was looking at her as if he knew her well. For a moment, she lost her bearings, then realized with surprise that she was in Central Park sitting on the bench opposite the apartment and had actually fallen asleep. She’d been on her way somewhere, but couldn’t resist stopping to savour the fresh April sunshine. ‘Hello,’ she said. He was a fine-looking man with a boyish face, brown crinkly hair, and brown eyes.

He smiled. ‘You don’t recognize me, do you?’

She screwed up her eyes and tried to remember where she’d seen him before, but gave up. ‘No,’ she admitted.

‘Robert Edgar Gifford, known as Bobby to my friends.’ He doffed his hat, an off-white Homburg. ‘And you’re Anne Murray. Do you remember me now?’

‘Of course,’ she said delightedly. She’d found him on the very same bench ten years ago and given him hamburgers and coffee. ‘You look very different now.’ Then, he’d looked like the scarecrow out of
The Wizard of Oz
. Now, he wore a smart grey pinstriped suit with a plain grey waistcoat. She patted the bench. ‘Sit down.’

‘You’ve hardly changed,’ he said when he was seated beside her. ‘I’d’ve known you anywhere.’

‘I knew I’d seen you before,’ she confessed, ‘but I just couldn’t remember where. You were much thinner back then. Did you go to California?’ She remembered giving him the eight dollars that she had in her pocket. ‘Are you still cross with me for giving you money?’

‘I was very rude. It seemed demeaning to take money off someone so young. But I still took it. I’m sorry,’ he said abjectly. ‘And no, I didn’t go to California. I hitched a lift as far as Springfield, Illinois, where I had my suit pressed and mended, and my shoes polished. I bought a fresh shirt, called in the local barber’s for a shave and a haircut, and got a job on the local paper, the
Springfield Star
. Now I’m the editor,’ he said proudly, ‘and it’s all due to you, Miss Anne Murray.’ He nodded at her left hand with its thick gold ring. ‘Though I see you’re no longer a miss, but a missus.’

‘Mrs Herbie Blinker, though Anne Murray is my professional name and most people call me by that.’

‘What does your husband do?’

‘He’s in the movies; he’s what’s called a movie star.’ Ollie produced a movie once a year with Herbie in the leading part. They would never win an Oscar, but were very popular and made a big profit. ‘He lives in California most of the time, Los Angeles, and I live in New York. We don’t see much of each other.’

‘Do you mind?’ He made a face. ‘Sorry, that’s a very intrusive question. Forget I asked.’

‘It’s quite all right.’ She liked talking to him. ‘No, I don’t mind a bit that Herbie and I don’t see much of each other. I’ll ask you a question, shall I? What are you doing in New York?’

‘I’m here for a job interview, assistant editor on the
New York Standard
.’ His boyish face shone and she could tell he wanted the job very much. ‘It’s a much bigger paper than my present one with a wider circulation, and it’s a daily, whereas the
Star
only comes out once a week. The interview’s not until tomorrow. Today, I’m looking up a few old friends - starting with you.’

She looked at him, puzzled. ‘I’m very flattered,’ she said, ‘but you could hardly call me a friend. We only spoke to each other for about ten minutes.’

‘You’re the best friend I’ve ever had,’ he said in a heartfelt tone. ‘You completely changed my life around. If it hadn’t been for you, Lord knows where I would have ended up. I owe everything I have to you, Anne Murray.’

Anne felt herself blush. ‘Did you actually expect to find me on this bench?’

‘No, but you told me where you lived. Your bedroom’s the second from the left in that apartment building directly opposite. I intended to enquire if you still lived there so we could meet and I could thank you and apologize for being so rude, but found you in exactly the same place as you found me.’

‘Well, now we’ve met, you’ve thanked me, and I’ve accepted your apology. What happens now?’

‘How about lunch? Or is it too early?’ He paused and put a finger to his chin. ‘I know, how about a drink in the Plaza and we’ll just hang around until it’s time for lunch? Or were you planning on doing something different? Are you in a show? I seem to recall you said you were a dancer - no, I don’t
seem
to, I recall very well.’

‘I’m resting between shows. I start rehearsing a new one next week.’ Her smooth brow furrowed. ‘I think I was going shopping,’ she said vaguely. She couldn’t remember what she was going shopping for, so it couldn’t have been anything important. ‘It’s my birthday, ’ she announced then, taking herself by surprise. How did she know? She looked down at her right hand, half expecting to see a ring with a green stone, but the hand was bare. She shrugged. She had so many strange dreams that sometimes she couldn’t tell the difference between what was real and what was not, but she was certain it was her birthday. Lizzie had mentioned this morning it was April Fools’ Day, so it must be. She was probably twenty-nine. Lev had reckoned she was about fourteen when he’d found her. They’d used to pretend it was her birthday on a different day each year. Lev had gone to Washington for a conference, but she’d telephone as soon as he got back and tell him she’d remembered her birthday.

‘Many happy returns,’ Bobby Gifford said warmly.

‘Thank you. Shall we walk to the Plaza?’

‘What a good idea.’

Without thinking, she tucked her arm inside his and they strolled across Central Park in the April sunshine. Anne just knew it was going to be a really wonderful day.

 

After a long lunch, during which they’d talked non-stop, hardly noticing what they were eating, she took him back to the apartment to introduce him to Lizzie. She’d already told him that Lizzie was her mother-in-law and Ollie her father-in-law, ‘but he spends as much time in Los Angeles as Herbie - he produces Herbie’s movies.’

‘That’s a very strange arrangement,’ Bobby opined. ‘Wives on one side of the country, husbands on the other. You couldn’t be further apart.’

‘It’s also a very happy arrangement. It means that Ollie and Herbie can get up to whatever they like without interference from their wives.’

‘I won’t ask what they get up to,’ Bobby said darkly.

Anne laughed. ‘I wouldn’t tell you if you did.’

When they arrived, Lizzie was having a bath. Christina offered to make coffee while Anne showed Bobby around the apartment. He paused in front of the paintings, hugely impressed. ‘Is that really a Picasso?’ he asked, and Anne assured him that it was. He touched it reverently. ‘A genuine Picasso. It must have cost the earth.’

‘It didn’t when Lizzie bought it. She’s had it for years. And most of these.’ She waved at the canvases done by other artists whose names she couldn’t bring to mind. Like Lev, she preferred paintings in which the figures had two eyes, a nose, a mouth, and recognizable bodies with arms and legs in the right places.

‘Are you admiring my art collection?’ Lizzie sailed in wearing tailored slacks and a polo-necked jumper.

‘It’s stunning, Mrs Blinker,’ Bobby said appreciatively. ‘Like having your very own art gallery.’

‘Not bad for a girl who was born in the back streets of Manchester nearly sixty years ago, is it?’ Lizzie said heartily. ‘Call me Lizzie. And who are you?’

‘Bobby Gifford, ma’am - Lizzie. Anne and I found each other in the park.’

Lizzie laughed out loud. ‘All I ever seem to find in the park is old cigarette packets and the occasional glove. I shall definitely go there more often if there are more young men like you waiting to be found.’

Christina came in with the coffee and they sat around and talked for ages. Lizzie said there was a breathtaking new work by Picasso in the Museum of Modern Art. ‘It’s called
Guernica
. It’s the name of a little town the Germans bombed during the Spanish Civil War. Have you heard of it, Bobby?’

‘I’ve heard of Guernica, yes, but not the painting.’ Bobby slapped his knee impatiently. ‘That’s why I’d like to work for the
Standard
. The
Star
is very parochial. I want to deal with world events, not local council matters and church affairs. I doubt if anyone in Springfield knows there’s a war going on in Europe.’

‘Ah, yes, the war,’ Lizzie said gravely. ‘I have relatives in Manchester that I still write to. Apparently, it’s been the coldest winter they’ve ever known and they’re short of virtually everything. I’ve been sending food parcels.’

‘I always make a cake,’ Anne put in. She was beginning to feel a bit out of things.

‘And so you do, pet. They’re probably the richest fruitcakes ever made and they weigh a ton. Well, I’d better be off.’ She got to her feet. ‘I’m secretary of the Committee to Re-elect the President and I’m due at a meeting. Eric will have the car outside by now.’

‘She’s nice,’ Bobby said when Lizzie had gone. ‘You’re very lucky to have her for a mother-in-law. My mother-in-law was a witch. I’m convinced she practised the black arts in the kitchen of her house in Queens and put spells on people she didn’t like, including me.’

‘I didn’t know you were married.’ For some reason Anne’s heart gave a mournful little tug. She didn’t know why. After all,
she
was married, so why should it matter if Bobby was?

‘I’m not sure if I’m married or not,’ he said frankly. ‘I was married when I first met you, but my wife had gone back to live with her mother after I’d lost my job and was about to lose our apartment.
I
wasn’t invited. Not that I would have gone,’ he added hastily. ‘I’d sooner have shot myself than live with my wife’s mother. She might have divorced me by now - my wife, that is, not her mother. I suppose I’d better find out.’

Anne giggled. ‘It sounds very complicated.’

‘It’s not as complicated as
your
marital situation.’

‘My marital situation is completely straightforward. Herbie - and Ollie - come to stay at Christmas. Lizzie and I go to Los Angeles when Ollie is about to release one of Herbie’s movies, but I can’t go if I’m in a show, so I’ve only been three times.’ She was glad. The less she saw of Herbie the better, even though she still liked him. But it was useful being married. It kept other men at bay. Apart from Lev, Anne had never had much time for the opposite sex. Bobby Gifford, she realized, was the first man she’d really felt attracted to. There was something wholeheartedly nice about him, as if the niceness went right down as far as his toes.

‘What would you like to do tonight?’ she asked. ‘Shall we see a show?’ Too late, she remembered he’d come to New York to look up old friends. Anyway, it was the man who was supposed to ask the woman out, not the other way around. The trouble was, she had little experience of such things. She couldn’t flirt to save her life and was useless at small talk. ‘I forgot, you’ve got other people to see, not just me.’

‘The other people don’t matter,’ he said bluntly. ‘I’d sooner be with you.’ He gave her a look that sent a delicious shiver running through her body.

‘And I’d sooner be with you.’ She shouldn’t have said that. Women were expected to play hard to get, but Anne didn’t know how, nor did she know what to say next.

Bobby must have noticed her confusion. He came over and kissed her softly on the lips. ‘You’re married,’ he said, ‘but I get the impression you’re not madly in love with Herbie? Is that true?’ She nodded vigorously. ‘I might well still have a wife, but I’m not in love with her either. I might not get that job tomorrow. If I don’t, I shall just have to find another so I can be in New York near you.’ He raised his eyebrows quizzically. ‘Shall we leave it like that and see what happens next?’

Anne nodded again. She leaned against him, he put his arms around her, and she could feel his cheek pressing against her hair. They stayed like that for a long time, neither speaking, but both knowing how the other felt.

Levon was having the worst time of his life. Why was he so weak? Why did he give in to Tamara every time she wanted to do something and he didn’t? He supposed it was to avoid an unpleasant atmosphere and her endless nagging. The trouble was that, in doing the thing he didn’t want, he ended up being even more miserable than if he’d refused.