Chapter 6
6
HEATHROW AIRPORT, LONDON, UK
‘Is Dean meeting you at the airport?’ Rita asked, shaking a Fisherman’s Friend into her hand before popping it into her mouth.
‘I don’t know yet,’ Hayley said, pushing the cases a few more inches in the queue for check-in.
‘What? You’ve not arranged it?’ Rita’s voice was shrill. ‘You’re going to be arriving at night. You have to have someone waiting for you.’
‘I just didn’t want to bother him straight away when we can easily get a cab.’
They were going to be staying with Dean. His large, expensive, beautifully decorated bachelor pad was going to be their home for the holidays. Without this offer, there was no way this trip would be affordable. But the truth was, as soon as Hayley started asking more of her brother, he would give it and then some. Dean was generous to a fault and the whole trip would be taken completely out of her hands. She didn’t want that. This was her and Angel’s adventure, even if it had to take place on a shoestring budget .
‘A cab .’ Rita said the word like it would be driven by the leader of a terrorist organisation.
‘Yes, Mum. And it will be fine. It will be just like the one we used to get here, only smaller and yellow, probably driven by someone who talks more Brooklyn than Billericay.’
‘But why would you do that?’ Rita continued.
This was why she’d wanted to leave her mother back in Wiltshire. A pleasant goodbye at the broken gate, air kisses and hugs neither of them really meant, then away. Liberty. That sounded mean. Hayley swallowed and offered her mother a smile, deciding to change tack.
‘Angel, do you have any more George Washington facts you’d like to share from your special dictionary?’
‘He was born in Virginia and he didn’t have any children,’ Angel said, thumbing the pages.
‘I expect Dean has company cars at his disposal. He needn’t come in person.’ Rita unzipped her patchwork leather handbag. ‘I’ll give him a call.’
‘No!’
Hayley surprised herself with the volume of her voice. She put her lips back together and tried to subconsciously tell her body not to let the colour red she felt hit her cheeks. The couple in front of them did a surreptitious glance backwards. There was only one thing for it.
‘Sorry.’ She let out a breath. ‘Sorry, Mum, I shouldn’t have shouted. It’s just we’re running a bit late and flying is so stressful.’
Rita screwed up her nose. ‘I don’t know what’s stressful about sitting doing nothing but watch television for eight hours.’
The sentence well you should know was at Hayley’s lips but she pressed them shut and said nothing. After all, her mother thought this was just a Christmas trip, a few weeks in the Big Apple and then home again. Rita knew nothing of the mission or Hayley’s crazy dream, the itch that New York could be an opportunity not just a vacation. Unless her mother had been reading her ten-year diary. She shuddered. If that ever happened, she’d be booking a one-way ticket around the world and never coming back. She was starting to regret not bringing it with her. She only hoped the cheap, ugly toys would do their job and keep it from being found. There would be no stopping the flipping of pages if Rita discovered it. There was no such thing as privacy where her mother was concerned. Your business was her business but only because she wanted to have an opinion on it, not because she actually cared.
Angel piped up. ‘Actually, the flight time is seven and a half hours and one of the films is Alvin and the Chipmunks .’
‘Great,’ Hayley said. ‘Annoying, singing rodents. That should pass the time and soothe the stress right out of everybody.’
‘Anyone would think you’re not looking forward to this holiday,’ Rita said.
She was obviously making too much out of this and her mother’s relentless questioning wasn’t helping. She had to make it out of the country without a whiff of anything other than Happy Holidays plans.
‘Don’t be silly. Of course I’m looking forward to it. It’s snowing there, isn’t it, Angel?’ Hayley grinned at her daughter.
‘Yes, minus four degrees and set to get so cold, you could throw a pan of boiling water in the air and watch it turn to snow before your eyes.’
‘I’m not sure throwing pans of hot water around is something to be encouraged,’ Rita said seriously, directing her gaze at Hayley.
‘It’s all over the TV,’ Angel said.
‘So is that awful woman who sings about snakes and that’s definitely not a good thing.’
Hayley furrowed her brow at her mother. ‘Do you mean Nicki Minaj?’ She shuddered again. ‘Because I hate to tell you this but she’s not actually singing about snakes.’
‘Did you know snakes don’t have eyelids,’ Angel asked, hugging her dictionary to her chest.
‘How did a conversation about snow turn into this?’ Hayley looked desperately at the rows of people ahead of her. ‘And why won’t this bloody queue move?’
‘If you’re getting anxious here, you wait until you see the queues for taxis at JFK,’ Rita said.
Hayley spoke through gritted teeth. ‘I have been to New York before.’
Rita shot her a look. ‘How could I forget?’
Hayley swallowed and moved her eyes to Angel, who was regarding them both, sensing the atmosphere but not knowing the cause.
‘You’re right,’ Hayley said quickly. ‘But we’re British. We’re experts at queuing and waiting our turn. If all else fails, I’ll act all foppish and bumbling like Hugh Grant and wait for someone to take pity on us.’
Angel let out a tinkle of a laugh while Rita just continued to look sour. Only Hayley knew the puckered lips were all for her and nothing to do with the Fisherman’s Friend.
‘Mum, we’re going to have to go through security because we have a gate allocated already.’
Hayley watched Rita fuss around Angel. The hair was being pressed into place, the red coat – still a bone of contention for her mother – was being fastened up tight, her cheeks cupped, kind words being expressed .
‘Now,’ Rita started. ‘Remember to look both ways very carefully when you cross the road because they drive on the right.’
‘Yes, Nanny,’ Angel said with sincerity.
‘And don’t have a hot dog from one of those street vendors on the corner of everywhere. There’s a reason they don’t have a shop.’
‘Yes, Nanny.’
Hayley immediately craved the biggest hot dog they could find from the grungiest-looking guy the second they got there. ‘We have to go.’
‘All right!’ Rita barked. ‘Can’t I have five minutes to say goodbye to my granddaughter?’
And your daughter . Hayley chewed her lip and tried to dismiss the words that bit. It was good Rita cared so much about Angel. She checked her watch again.
‘I hope your hospital appointment goes OK, Nanny,’ Angel said. Rita would be fine. A neighbour was going with her to the hospital and she had a year’s supply of after dinner mints and an arctic roll.
‘Freda and I will have a pensioner’s lunch at the coffee shop there.’ She put her hands on Angel’s shoulders. ‘Don’t forget to give your Uncle Dean a kiss from me and tell him how much I miss him.’
The golden child . The one she put up on a pedestal as high as the Chrysler Building. Hayley cleared her throat, hoping to dislodge the bad feeling.
‘I hope you have a lovely Christmas, Nanny. I’ll call you,’ Angel said, smiling at her grandmother.
‘Oh don’t you worry about me, Angel. I’ll have one of those meals for widows and single people from Marks and Spencer.’
Hayley closed her eyes. If she mentioned getting out the electric fan heater or watching Pollyanna, she was seriously going to lose it .
‘Right then, off we go,’ Hayley said, pulling Angel towards her by the fabric hook on the back of her rucksack.
‘Bye, Nanny,’ Angel chirped.
Hayley felt her mother’s eyes on her but didn’t know what to do. Hugging always felt so awkward and air-kissing was even worse. Guilt was now winning out over everything else.
‘Bye, Mum. Happy Holidays as they say in New York.’ Hayley stepped forward, ready to embrace her mother with everything she had. Instead, she impacted on Rita’s foot.
The noise that came from her mother’s mouth was akin to a cat having its tail trodden on. A yelp and a stagger had Angel rushing to her grandmother’s side.
‘Sorry,’ Hayley breathed. ‘Sorry, Mum.’
‘Are you all right, Nanny?’ Angel asked, concern etched on her features.
‘Yes…’ Rita let out a jagged breath. ‘Nothing the chiropodist can’t fix, I don’t expect.’
Hayley didn’t dare move her feet a second time. ‘Well, if you’re sure you can make it back to wait for the taxi driver then we’ll head off.’ They really couldn’t wait any longer. And the emotion just wasn’t coming.
‘Bye, Nanny,’ Angel said again.
Hayley put her arm around her daughter and, drawing her close, she simply waved a hand.