Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
EVIE
Over the last few days, urged by Mrs Evans, I’d been to visit the Guggenheim, MoMA and the Botanical Gardens to see the Holiday Train Show, which was quite the most adorable thing ever.
A model railway set among the landmarks of New York, running through the conservatory with friendly conductors dotted around, live music and food and drink.
It was definitely Christmas holiday heaven.
With the pictures I posted of my magical tour of New York, I acquired loads of new followers every day and Alicia was delighted with the way the campaign was going.
Before each of my outings, I’d made a morning pilgrimage to the ice rink, the times varying each day depending on what had been arranged.
This morning, my feet whispered across the plush thick carpet and my down coat shushed quietly like a disapproving theatre goer at rustling sweet eaters, the sounds cocooned by the corridor as if it were in on my secret.
These quiet dark early morning hours had quickly become my favourite part of the day.
Despite this, there was an air of anticipation to the day.
The hotel was just waking up, and behind the scenes, I could sense the practised hum of preparation and activity.
The calm, quiet lull before a full day’s storm of activity.
I could hear the subdued chink of china and clatter of cutlery from the restaurant as the place was readied for breakfast, and saw Martin, the waiter, carrying a stack of plates into the room.
From somewhere beyond me, there was the distant back and forth hum of a vacuum cleaner and the up-and-down squeak of cloth on glass as someone cleaned a window on the other side of the lobby.
Bernard the maintenance man was up a ladder, underneath the huge, central chandelier, which hung above the group of six Christmas trees, their tips just brushing the dangling crystals.
I watched as he twisted one of the little pieces of glass back into place, bathed in the glow from the trees below.
‘Morning,’ he said with a cheerful wink.
‘Morning,’ I said, grinning up at him. They had to be the prettiest trees I’d ever seen.
With their frosted branches and the plethora of tiny sparkling white lights, they looked as if they were encrusted with diamonds, and the tiny boughs of cranberries glistened like rubies. It reminded me of Narnia through the wardrobe.
‘Morning, Evie,’ said Carol from her usual lookout post on the front desk, which was swathed in garlands of dark green yew interspersed with fat white velvet bows.
Along the counter were groupings of elegant silver stags, so well sculpted that they looked as if they might startle and flee at any moment.
Nothing got past Carol without her knowing it. With eagle-eyed awareness and a near photographic memory, she knew all the comings and goings in the hotel. ‘Going to be a beautiful day. What have you got planned today?’
Before I could answer, her face lit up with an enthusiastic smile.
‘Can I just say. I loved those clothes you got at Bloomingdales. That lady really has an eye.’ She shook her head.
‘I’ve decided I hate the outfit I got for Carla’s wedding.
I’m gonna book myself in with the lady you saw.
See if she has better ideas. No one wants to feel like a dowdy on their little girl’s big day. ’
I eyed her smart uniform and her pinned-up hair which was wrestled into a tidy updo with a dozen clips and grips, clearly for extra insurance.
‘I’m sure you won’t, but,’ I leaned forward, both in empathy with her insecurity and because I’d learned a surprising amount from Debbie, ‘you want to feel good about yourself on Carla’s big day.
So, if you’re not happy with the outfit, why not?
What have you got to lose? You haven’t got long.
What is it? Two weeks now until the wedding? ’
‘Yes.’ Carol’s face lit up. ‘What was the stylist’s name, again?’
‘Debbie, and I can highly recommend her. She’s lovely and really knows her stuff.
You must be getting excited and a bit nervous.
’ A couple of my friends had got married in the last few years and there seemed a ridiculous amount of planning to do for one day.
Personally, I thought people were crazy spending so much money and effort on one day when it could all be snatched away so easily.
Life is short, they should just get on with it.
I’d heard all about the childhood sweethearts. That Carla was a teacher and her husband-to-be was a fireman. A fireman! I would never say anything to Carol, but how did she feel about her daughter marrying someone with such a dangerous job?
A firefighter’s life expectancy is ten years lower than the average persons. I’d looked it up. Did she not realise that he might not come home from work one day?
Before Carol could reply, she was interrupted by the phone on the reception desk. ‘Good morning, The Plaza. How may I help you?’
I gave her a quick wave, mouthed goodbye and hurried on through the revolving door.
‘Morning, early bird,’ said Danny with his customary bright smile.
‘Morning. How are you?’ I asked, wondering if he ever had an off day.
‘Doing just fine, ma’am,’ he said, touching the brim of his hat. ‘You going for your usual constitutional?’
‘I am.’ I said and hitched the heavy tote bag higher on my shoulders.
On my first morning out, I’d said I was going for a walk, and now it was easier to let him think that I was doing nothing more than taking a leisurely stroll around the park.
Skating was my private thing and always had been.
Out on the ice I had to concentrate so hard that I was able to let go of everything else in my head. I was completely free, mind and body.
‘Want me to bring you a coffee back?’
He grinned. ‘I would love it, but not on duty.’
I visited Starbucks each morning and couldn’t decide which was my favourite Christmas drink: Peppermint Mocha (Yum), Caramel Brulée Latte (double yum) or Chestnut Praline Latte (absolutely divine).
With another goodbye I swung sharp left and crossed over the road sucking in a big breath of the crisp winter air.
Today the clear dark sky highlighted the moon glowing beyond the skyscrapers, but there was a softer glow heralding sunrise.
Anticipation fluttered through me, with gentle butterfly wings brushing my stomach.
It was a brisk walk to the Wollman Rink, just inside Central Park, and when I arrived I did as I’d done for the last few mornings – I stood for a moment, marvelling that I was finally here.
Just like in the movies. The bench, when I sat on it, was cold and hard, dusted with a light frost. But I didn’t mind.
It was worth it. With great care, I removed my skates from my bag and gave the soft red leather a covetous stroke.
I loved, loved, loved them and all they represented – a special reward after years of practice in borrowed smelly rink-rental skates.
The stainless-steel blades were sharp and shiny, perfectly balanced and all mine.
I’d only allowed myself to buy them once I’d perfected a double axel – which, for the uninitiated, is a forward jump in the air with a double rotation before landing on one foot without falling over – it took me a very long time to master.
My determination to learn to skate bedded in after Mum and I watched Serendipity and from that moment, I’d decided that when we did get to New York, I would be able to glide effortlessly across the ice and surprise her.
Of course, that was never meant to be, but at the time I didn’t realise that Mum would die, I thought we’d beat the cancer together.
After Mum died, I moved near Alexandra Palace and signed up for lessons. I had no desire to be an Olympic champion or anything, I just wanted to be good enough to look as if I were in one of those iconic New York winter movies we’d always watched together. And now it was my time.
When I’d come for my inaugural visit on my second day here, the rink had lived up to all my expectations, one of those pinch-me moments – although minus a handsome stranger, but there was still time for him to show up.
Adrenaline and nerves fired through me as I stepped out onto the fresh surface only marred by a couple of tracks.
With a swoosh, I pushed my blade forward, the ice unforgiving beneath my blade but I immediately felt the freedom as I pushed my feet across the surface.
Picking up my speed, I sailed along, the breeze whipping through my hair as I did a swift circuit.
Joy filled my heart like air trying to burst a balloon.
I whizzed along, revelling in the pace. I felt so free, swooping like a bird, gliding with ease.
Graceful, elegant and together. Here, I knew what I was doing, I’d practised and trained for no one but myself.
None of my friends knew I could skate like this.
It was a secret part of me. After Mum died, I wanted something that was just for myself, that no one else could judge or comment on.
Here, I was confident that when I took off on an outside edge I could land with accuracy.
If anything went wrong, it was down to me.
I was in control and that couldn’t be taken away – as long as I focused and concentrated on my feet, my muscles and the positioning as I took off.
I liked the precision of skating, the absolute science of knowing when I made the right effort and concentrated, by the laws of physics, I would get the right results.
Of course, it didn’t always work out like that – I’d ended up on my bum plenty of times – but the principle of it comforted me.
I whirled and twirled with the abandon of a snowflake in a snowstorm, feeling the endorphins flooding through my system, exhilaration bouncing through my veins.
The sunrise splintered through the trees, golden beams piercing the shadows to reveal a perfect pure-blue sky and the promise of clear, bright day.
After half an hour, I was on a high, if a little tired from the exertion. When I felt my legs start to wobble with effort I knew it was time to head back. Besides, I had a meeting with Alicia. She’d texted me late the night before to tell me she had some exciting news.
I walked slowly back through the park, watching two girls walking along, arm in arm, giggling together and taking selfies and then comparing shots.
They were oblivious to me, and their self-absorption highlighted my loneliness.
At that moment I would have killed to have a friend to share this with me.
But look at what I’d done to my friends.
And because I wasn’t looking where I was going, I bumped into the one person I’d rather not have.
‘Oof,’ I said as they cannoned into me.
Strong arms steadied me, and I looked up into Noah’s face.
‘You,’ I said, annoyed by how sexy he managed to look. Despite the temperature, he was wearing a tight-fitting running top and shorts, which left very little to the imagination.
‘Morning, Evie,’ he said. ‘You’re up early.’
‘So are you,’ I pointed out.
‘I’m training,’ he drawled, as if I wouldn’t know the meaning of the word, but he was gazing over my shoulder as if he were looking for something.
‘Lost something?’ I asked.
He squinted into the distance towards the ice rink. ‘No,’ he said but it was the sort of quick denial that said the opposite.
‘Well, don’t let me stop you,’ I said, intrigued, and also cross with myself, because at the sight of him my pulse had started jumping about like the Easter Bunny.
I hadn’t seen him for a few days, and I had to summon up my blasé I’m-totally-used-to-this-level-of-hotness-in-a-man face because I’d forgotten the effect he had on me.
I gave him a snarky smile. ‘I wouldn’t want you to get cold.’
‘Don’t you worry, Green.’ He winked at me. ‘I run hot.’ With that he jogged away leaving me feeling more than a little hot and bothered.