The Proposal (26 page)

‘Oh no, Amy has been taking care of me, Mr Carrell,’ smiled Georgia, meeting his gaze. ‘And she’s been doing a wonderful job.’

‘Amy! Honey,’ screamed Connie Carrell, running out of the kitchen.

Her mother had literally wept tears of delight when Amy had called her a week earlier to say that she was coming home, and her excitement still hadn’t subsided.

‘This is just the best Christmas present I could ask for. My little girl home. Nick, get Georgia a drink.’

‘You like whiskey?’

‘Nick!’ said Connie, slapping his arm. ‘You can’t offer this nice lady whiskey.’

‘Actually, Amy has been telling me about your egg nog on the way over here. I confess I’ve never had egg nog before.’

‘Comin’ right up,’ said Nick, smiling.

Amy gave Georgia a sideways smile. The older woman certainly knew which of her dad’s buttons to press.

‘Come through and meet everyone,’ said Connie. In short succession Georgia was introduced to Amy’s brother Billy, his wife Helen and their three children Candice, Billy Jr and baby Gretel, as well as Uncle Chuck, who seemed to be reasonably sober and immediately took a shine to Georgia, hovering over her, passing her nibbles and refilling her glass as soon as she took a sip. Amy sat back and watched, so happy to see her family again, but also happy to see them welcome her friend so warmly. She had only been away for a little over two years, but it had felt like decades. Too long.

Finally Connie clapped her hands to summon them all through to the tiny dining room.

‘Family tradition, Georgia. We have a big ham on Christmas Eve. It leaves us too stuffed for turkey the next day, but hey, you got to start Christmas as soon as possible, then keep it going for as long as you can. Those have always been the rules in this house.’

‘So long as we’re not having goose tomorrow,’ grumbled Uncle Chuck. ‘Should have seen the size of the thing. It was like a goddam pigeon.’

Everyone sat down, arguing over the merits of turkey versus goose, ten of them crammed around a table that could really only comfortably seat six, but their elbow-to-elbow proximity only added to the feeling of togetherness.

‘So why hasn’t Dan the Man come?’ asked Billy, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his stomach, his blue shirt straining at the buttons. ‘I want to meet your fancy English guy finally.’

‘We both wanted to be with our families over the holidays,’ Amy replied, wondering what Daniel was doing at this moment. She imagined him in the family home, a honey-stone manor house straight out of a Jane Austen novel. She had been there only once and had felt on edge all the time, not wanting to ruin the perfect picture by actually sitting down anywhere. She pictured him sitting at the formal dining table, cutting into his quail or whatever fancy British families ate at Christmas, making strained conversation with Vivienne, planning with his father to conquer the world. Well, he had made his choice – made his bed, as her friend Annie liked to say. Now he had to lie in it.

‘Say, Candice. How’s the ballet coming along?’ she asked her seven-year-old niece, wanting to change the subject.

‘I love it,’ she grinned with a gap-toothed smile.

Billy’s wife Helen bounced baby Gretel up and down on her lap.

‘She wanted to see some real ballet, so I took her to the Lincoln Center, saved up for months for those tickets, and she got so damn bored we had to leave after twenty minutes.’

Candice made a face and pushed some potatoes into her mouth.

‘Still, she wants to be a ballet dancer when she grows up. I told her she gotta keep practising, keep it up if she wants to be like her auntie Amy.’

Amy smiled hard, deciding this was not the right time to tell Candice about the pain and the constant rejection and the fact there was a good chance your boyfriend’s parents might think you were a slut. Best to let a little girl have her dreams. After all, she had been the same as a student at Miss Josephine’s dance academy on Quebec Street, the school that Candice now went to. She still kept in touch with Miss Josephine, who had been like a second mom to her growing up. When she’d moved to England they had swapped regular letters and emails, but these had dwindled as Amy grew more and more embarrassed about the state of her career. She wanted Miss Josephine to think she had produced at least one star.

Nick Carrell topped up Georgia’s glass.

‘So, Amy tells me you have a great apartment. It’s like worth a million bucks or somethin’?’

‘I did not!’ gasped Amy.

‘You told your mom it looked like a duchess’ house in some swanky part of town,’ said her father, looking offended.

‘I suppose Primrose Hill is rather lovely,’ smiled Georgia. ‘I bought at the right time. The nearest thing London has to a village, and yet when you climb to the top of the hill it’s all there before you. The BT Tower, the London Eye, St Paul’s.’

‘Have you got family, Georgia?’ asked Connie politely. Amy noticed her friend stiffen.

‘Yes, but I don’t see them very often. They live out in the countryside.’

‘What are they up to back home in England?’

‘Uncle Chuck . . .’ said Amy with a warning tone.

‘No, it’s fine,’ said Georgia. ‘I suppose they’ll be doing much the same as here. Having a party, eating and drinking too much. Won’t be anywhere near as much fun as here, though. And this food’s much better.’

Amy saw her mother’s proud smile.

‘You gotta watch the British,’ said Chuck, waving a finger. ‘Poor teeth, poor food. To think you’re going to marry into that!’

Amy blushed furiously.

‘I haven’t got any plans to get married, Uncle Chuck.’

‘Really?’ said Connie with interest. ‘I thought it was serious with Dan.’

‘I wanna be a bridesmaid,’ shouted Candice with her mouth full.

‘Stop it, all of you!’

‘Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it, sis,’ said Billy, squeezing Helen’s hand. ‘It ain’t so bad, huh?’

‘So come on, Ames. Tell us. Can I expect a visit from this Daniel asking for my daughter’s hand in marriage? Guess he’s going to do things the proper way, huh?’

She was glad when Uncle Chuck changed the subject to talk about the upcoming Jets game and the clean-up operation in Queens after Hurricane Sandy.

Mrs Carrell served two puddings – a home-made pumpkin pie the colour of autumn leaves and a plum pudding complete with thick cream. When every last spoonful had been scraped from their bowls and the detritus had been taken to the kitchen, Amy and Georgia were shooed through to the sitting room. ‘You’re the guests today,’ said Connie. ‘Everyone else can help with the dishes.’

Amy flopped into an armchair.

‘Overload,’ she groaned, patting her flat stomach. ‘I need to go and lie down.’

‘Sounds like a good idea,’ said Georgia. ‘In fact, I think that’s my cue to leave.’

‘Don’t go,’ said Amy, sitting up. ‘You’re welcome to stay. In fact Mom and Dad will be offended if you leave.’

‘I should go,’ she said with such finality that Amy didn’t challenge her further.

‘I got you a present,’ said Amy, looking around for the bag of gifts she had brought with her. ‘It’s not as extravagant as that amazing dress and shoes you got me, but I think you’ll like it.’

She rooted around in the bag until she found Georgia’s present.

‘Open it now,’ she said.

‘But it’s not Christmas yet,’ smiled Georgia.

‘Please,’ said Amy.

Georgia’s thin fingers unwrapped the paper. Inside was a snow globe of New York.

‘Shake it and all the snowflakes – fake, of course – will sprinkle over the city. I know how much you wanted it to snow, and I can’t fix the weather, but when I saw this, I knew you’d love it.’

She looked up and saw that Georgia was crying. Just two single tears slipping down her cheeks, but still her reaction surprised her.

‘Don’t you like it?’

‘I love it,’ whispered Georgia. ‘Someone gave me something similar once. A snow globe of Paris. It’s one of my treasures.’

‘Now you have two,’ grinned Amy.

Georgia held the globe in both hands and looked at her.

‘Do you know what really constitutes being a lady?’ she said softly. ‘Kindness. Kindness is at the heart of it all, and you have that quality in spades, Amy Carrell.’

She cleared her throat and straightened her back, the more aloof Georgia returning.

‘I think Alfonse has just arrived,’ she said, seeing two beams of light outside. ‘I should go. Have fun tomorrow with your family.’

‘Thank you so much, Georgia. Thanks for making this happen,’ Amy said, leaning forward and hugging her. She was surprised how slight and fragile the older woman felt in her arms. Georgia seemed to flinch at her gesture, but then gave her a small squeeze.

‘No rush to get back to the hotel. Have a very merry Christmas, Amy.’

The whole family stood on the stoop and waved her off. Amy watched the tail lights disappear around the corner, until her dad put his arm around her shoulders and led her back into the kitchen, which was already clean and tidy.

‘It’s good to have you back, honey,’ he said, switching on the coffee machine. ‘Are you okay? You’re okay for money?’

‘Dad, everything is fine.’

He gave her that cocked-head quizzical look he’d given her as a kid when she’d been keeping something from him, that ‘Dad knows everything’ look. He’d always trusted her to do the right thing then, and he didn’t say anything now.

‘I can’t believe you asked Georgia how much her apartment was worth,’ said Amy, sitting down at the kitchen table and giving him an embarrassed half-smile.

‘I did not.’

‘You did.’

‘So I’m interested.’

‘It’s not the done thing. It’s rude.’

‘What’s rude?’

‘To ask personal questions. Questions about money and how much you earn.’

‘Says who? The Queen of England?’

He handed her a cup of coffee and sat opposite her.

‘She’s a nice lady,’ he said, taking a sip.

‘You sound surprised.’

He shrugged.

‘Didn’t know what to expect. Y’gotta admit, it’s kinda a strange set-up. I mean, why’s she not with her own family at Christmas?’

‘Yeah, well, you shouldn’t have kept bringing her family up, either. She doesn’t seem to like talking about them.’

‘I thought there might be a story there. You know, something we could have helped with?’

Amy fixed her hands around her coffee cup.

‘What do you mean?’

‘It’s just a bit odd. Why isn’t she with her family? Or friends? Why does she have to come to New York with a stranger? It doesn’t make sense. Not a nice fancy lady like that with money.’

Amy shrugged.

‘I met her cousin’s son in London, but I could tell there was some history going on.’

‘See? You should ask her. Might do her some good to talk about it.’

‘Georgia’s not like that. The English aren’t like that. It’s rude to ask.’

‘What is it with this
rude
thing? Maybe the lady’s got a problem. Maybe she
wants
to talk about it to someone.’

He snorted again, shook his head.

‘Each to their own, I guess. Anyway, how’s London treating you? You still working at the bar?’

Amy sipped her coffee.

‘You sound disappointed.’

‘In you? You kidding me? Never.’

‘Seriously? I haven’t exactly got my name in lights.’

‘Amy, nobody worked harder than you to get outta Queens and make something of themselves. You’ve been all over the world doing what you love – you know how rare that is? Sure, I’d rather you were closer, but that’s just a dad being selfish. Truth? Every time any of the guys at Dempsey’s asks after my little girl, I feel ten feet tall.’

Amy wasn’t sure she was going to get away without crying.

‘You just say the word and you can come home. I can paint your old room, you can stay there until you find someplace new. We can help you with money. Your old dad hasn’t done too bad. Just say the word.’

Amy looked at him, sorely tempted. After all, what was there for her in London? Daniel was gone, she’d had one audition in six months and she was barely managing to eat on her wages from the Forge. But she couldn’t let her family down. She remembered them waving her off at Newark – even Uncle Chuck had been crying, but they had all told her a dozen times that it was worth it if she could build a better life for herself outside of Queens. They’d had such faith in her, such cast-iron belief that she was going to dance her way to stardom and find herself a handsome British prince at the same time – her mom had seriously suggested she get a job in the Buckingham Palace gift shop, so convinced was she that Prince Harry would fall in love with her if only their paths would cross – that she couldn’t come crawling back now, no job, no boyfriend, nothing to show for her two years in exotic Europe. What would her dad say to the guys in Dempsey’s then? What would Candice tell her friends at Miss Josephine’s?

‘I miss you guys like crazy. But I have a life in London. I like it. I’ve got friends and I can’t come running home just because I’m not dancing,’ she said, determined not to let the cracks show.

‘It’s Daniel, isn’t it?’ He smiled. ‘Home is where the heart is, I guess.’ A look of such pride settled on his face that she knew it was not the right time to tell him her relationship had ended. Not on Christmas Eve.

Billy walked in rubbing his hands.

‘Fenies is open. What say we all go down and toast Santa?’

Amy shook her head.

‘I’ve had enough to drink and I’ve got a long flight on Wednesday.’

‘Which is two whole days away,’ he said, throwing over her coat. ‘Come on. All the old gang will be down there.’

Fenies was an Irish pub, but it was a world away from the ones you could find in Finsbury Park. There were none of the grand Victorian mouldings and high ceilings of the British tradition, just a long low room with a wooden bar at one side and beer served in bottles. Even so, it was heaving.
Christmas Eve, I guess,
thought Amy, glad she had changed into a pair of her mom’s trainers; she had been wearing her new shoes and it would have been heartbreaking to have them ruined by spilt Miller and trampling toes.