Chapter 29
29
DRUMMOND GLOBAL OFFICES, DOWNTOWN MANHATTAN
‘That was reception again. Your mother has left another message,’ Clara said, putting down the phone on Oliver’s desk.
‘When do you think she’s going to give up?’ he asked, leaning back in his chair.
‘I’ve known her half my life, Oliver. She isn’t going to give up until you talk to her.’
He nodded, filling his chest cavity with a long breath. Clara was right, of course, but he wasn’t ready yet.
‘Is this about the McArthur Foundation?’ Clara asked.
He shook his head. ‘No.’
‘Then…’
He knew she’d deliberately left the end of her sentence open, the words hanging there, just waiting for him to fill in the gaps.
‘So, romantic locations,’ Oliver said, pulling himself upright and smiling at Clara.
‘You were serious about that?’
‘Did you think I wasn’t?’
‘It’s that woman who was here the other day.’ Clara smiled. ‘Lois. ’
He couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his mouth. ‘Maybe.’
‘Oliver, I’ve never seen you look like that before.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like you’re not running from the world.’
He swallowed, the smile fading a little. Was that what he did? Was that how others saw him? He felt the familiar grip of fear tighten its hold on his heart. Planning a date like this was having faith in something he didn’t believe in. This wasn’t a casual pick-up. Making a diary entry with someone was as permanent as he’d ever been. A voice at the back of his mind was urging caution. You are going to die. He swallowed, tempted to listen. Or did he dare to ignore it? Live life without thinking too hard, like Tony kept suggesting.
‘It wasn’t a criticism,’ Clara said quickly. ‘I just know how much pressure you’ve been under since your father died and?—’
He cleared his throat. ‘So, I was thinking of a Broadway show. What’s best?’
Clara put a hand to the turquoise statement necklace on her chest, twisting the beads between her fingers.
‘No?’ Oliver asked.
‘Well, it’s a nice idea but you can’t really talk to each other in a show.’ She shifted in her seat. ‘A first date should give you an opportunity to get to know each other better.’
He nodded. ‘You’re right. What was I thinking?’
He thought over Clara’s statement, watched her cheeks redden because she’d spoken her mind.
‘Dinner?’ Oliver suggested.
‘Where’s your originality? Food is good but you need something more.’
‘Cocktails?’
‘Clichéd. ’
‘Philharmonic orchestra?’
‘You can talk over violins?’
He stabbed his pen at the pad in front of him and picked up the stress baseball. ‘Why is this so difficult?’
‘Because you care.’ Clara smiled. ‘What are her interests?’
The question jarred his thought process. He didn’t know. They had met three times now, had conversation, kissed, and he had no idea what she liked.
‘I don’t know.’ He felt pathetic. ‘She has a daughter.’
‘Even I knew that. Think, Oliver.’
‘She’s smart.’ He stood up. ‘I don’t necessarily mean intellectually so…’ He sighed. ‘I don’t know that. But she’s a smart talker, knows how the world works, finds the fun in everything. Fights me for the last word.’
‘Feisty and fun-loving.’ Clara nodded, making notes on her clipboard.
‘Am I wasting my time here, Clara?’ He turned towards her.
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Should it be this hard?’
‘The very best things in life are the ones you have to fight for.’
He swallowed, a feeling of melancholy washing over him. ‘My father used to say that.’
‘I know he did.’ Clara smiled. ‘And then he would tell the story about the boat capsizing.’
The story he had recalled just last night had been told at every networking event his father had attended since he was old enough to go with him to them. It had only been replaced with something else when Ben had died. Then it had been all about life being too short, making the most of what you had, no longer about going out and aiming big, fighting for what you wanted. Richard Drummond’s success hadn’t dwindled after Ben’s death but his outlook on life definitely had .
His eyes lit up as a light bulb went on. ‘How about Greenwich Village?’
Clara smiled. ‘Now we’re getting somewhere.’
Empire State Building, Midtown Manhattan
‘Did you know there are 102 floors in this place? Reasons Christmas is better in New York number fifty-five: exercise whilst visiting iconic buildings,’ Hayley said. She breathed in the wintery air and leaned against the barricade of the eighty-sixth-floor main deck. The temperature had dropped below freezing, which meant a wind that bit but no snow and a bright, clear blue sky with a sun doing its best to heat the city up.
‘I’ve waited eighty-six floors for you to tell me about my dad. I’m not going to wait sixteen more.’
Hayley felt the bitterness in Angel’s words and saw the anxious expression just visible under Dean’s New York Rangers beanie she had borrowed. Acting on maternal instinct, she reached for the collar of Angel’s coat and refastened the undone top button.
‘Mum,’ Angel said, shaking herself away.
‘Look out there, Angel,’ Hayley pointed to the vast expanse of skyscrapers below them, laid out like a glass and metal picnic blanket. ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’
‘Please, Mum.’
She let out a sigh, her breath hot mist in the air. She’d told Dean she was going to tell Angel up here. She’d kidded herself that she was ready. But Angel overhearing the earlier conversation meant it wasn’t something she could hide away in her diary any more. It was time to face the music, and the consequences.
She smiled. ‘Well, I guess it’s confession time.’ Her voice shook slightly. ‘I heard you asking God and Father Christmas to find your dad and that’s why we’re here. In New York.’ She let out a rush of breath. ‘And I haven’t told you because I wanted to try and find him first.’
She watched for Angel’s reaction but there was little except the wide eyes that were growing larger and the fact she was looking less child genius and more vulnerable nine-year-old as the seconds ticked past.
‘You’ve never asked me and I thought maybe you didn’t want to know or…’ Hayley started. She sunk her hands into the pockets of her coat.
‘I didn’t want to hurt your feelings,’ Angel responded.
‘Hurt my feelings? Why would you think that?’
‘Because if I told you I wanted to know about my dad, you might think you weren’t enough for me.’
She gulped back a knot of feeling. ‘Oh, Angel, if you wanted to know, you should have asked.’
‘I thought one day you would tell me. I didn’t want to upset you.’ Angel blinked her dark eyelashes. ‘And I used to hear Nanny shouting at you about him. She calls him “that man” and she keeps saying he ruined your life.’
Hayley clapped her hands to her mouth as her stomach fell to ground-floor level. Angel had heard those horrible rows, the arguments about the latest ‘dead-end’ job she’d got that hadn’t suited her mother. The constant reiteration about how she’d had to pay for that first year of college even though Hayley hadn’t been able to go. Her dreams being killed. The car crash of her life. Just how much had Angel heard and never told?
She had to compose herself. This wasn’t about her mother’s disapproval; this was about her daughter wanting to know where she came from.
‘His name is Michel,’ Hayley began. ‘And he’s an artist. ’
A quizzical look appeared on Angel’s face, her brow furrowing. ‘Painting?’
‘Yes, and photography,’ Hayley replied.
‘Oils or watercolours?’
Hayley hesitated. ‘I’m not sure.’
‘And he lives here? In New York?’
‘He did.’
‘But not now?’
‘I don’t know. I hope he still does.’
Angel still looked puzzled. ‘Can’t you call him or email him or something? Say I want to meet him.’
This was where it was going to get difficult. But she wasn’t going to lie to Angel; there had been too much hidden for too long already.
‘Angel, I don’t have his contact details.’ She set her eyes on the city and said a mental prayer. ‘I never had them.’
Angel didn’t respond straight away and Hayley zoned in on the dulled noise of the streets from their position in the sky. Normality to the residents of this state, rush, bustle, heading to work or off home, business, pleasure. None of them could be going through the same situation she was.
‘But he was your boyfriend,’ Angel stated finally.
‘Not really,’ Hayley admitted on a breath. She turned to face her daughter then. ‘We’ve done the whole how-babies-are-made thing, haven’t we?’
Angel pulled a face and nodded her head. ‘I’m not stupid.’
‘Well, we only did it once.’ She let another breath go. ‘And I never saw him again.’
She swallowed her guilt and shame and kept looking at Angel. Eventually, Angel looked up and met her eyes.
‘You mean he doesn’t…’ Angel paused and wet her lips. ‘He doesn’t know about me? ’
Hayley shook her head. ‘Angel, I’m sure if he knew about you, he’d have been to see you.’
He would, wouldn’t he? Just like, if she’d known a way to contact him before Angel was born, she would have. Wouldn’t she? Hadn’t she wanted to? Wasn’t it her mother who had told her he wouldn’t want to know and she was better off without him?
‘So, he’s never known about me,’ Angel repeated, her eyes getting even bigger.
‘No, but he’s going to. That gallery we went to the other day, before the Guggenheim, I’m sure he exhibited there and the man I spoke to is going to contact some more galleries who are going to help. And I went to the club we met in just the other night and there’s a bartender there who might know him and…’ Hayley gabbled.
The wind was blowing the strands of hair flying loose from under Dean’s hat and Hayley just wanted to envelop Angel in her arms and not let anything touch her. This obviously hadn’t been anything like her daughter had envisaged in her mind. She had known her father was out there somewhere, but perhaps she’d imagined a real relationship between her parents, her father knowing about her but having to leave for some reason. This, as Hayley had always thought, was an unkind truth.
‘I’m going to find him, Angel.’ She struggled to keep her voice steady.
‘How?’ Angel asked, moving up alongside the barrier and looking out over the sea of grey.
‘I told you, we’re going to call all the galleries in New York and find someone who can put us in touch or there’s the barman at Vipers. Maybe Michel still goes there and he remembers him.’ She blew out a breath as a shiver ran over her body. ‘I’m not going to stop until we find him. ’
‘But what if… what if he has another family?’ Angel said. ‘He might be married. He might have other children.’
Hayley put an arm across her shoulders and drew her close. ‘Yes, he might.’
Had Michel met his soulmate? Did he have children? Did they look anything like Angel?
‘We just need to find him first. Anything else will have to come later.’
‘He might not want to know me at all.’
‘And if he doesn’t, we tell him what we think of him and we kick him in the will.i.am.’
She saw a smirk appear on Angel’s face.
‘Because that would make him the biggest… dope,’ Hayley said, letting go of Angel and adopting a rapper stance.
‘Stop it! People are looking!’
Hayley put her arm back around her, affectionately rubbing her shoulder. ‘Angel, I might not know a lot about him but I do know that he was funny and bright and passionate about life.’ She recalled their walk through Central Park. The leaves on the trees a russet colour, waiting to fall, the air crisp, the moon lighting their way. ‘He told me the world is just one big ball of experiences waiting to be grabbed.’
‘Really?’ Angel looked unimpressed by the anecdote.
‘He had cool hair,’ Hayley added.
Angel smiled. ‘What else?’
‘He had nice eyes, like yours,’ she said, reaching for Angel’s hand.
‘Do you have a photo?’
‘Yes!’ Hayley said excitedly. ‘It’s back at the apartment but… yes, I have a photo.’
Her daughter’s smile widened then, becoming more genuine. Right now, Hayley would say or do anything to make this easier for her. She couldn’t help but feel as if she had let her down along the way to this moment, because of her own cautiousness about the subject… or perhaps her mother’s.
‘Can we go up to the top?’ Angel asked, slipping her hand into Hayley’s. It was a small gesture but it meant everything.
‘Absolutely. As long as I can re-enact Sleepless in Seattle .’ Hayley grinned.
Angel snatched her hand back, folding her arms across her chest. ‘I am not being Tom Hanks.’
‘Reasons Christmas is better in New York number twenty-nine: visiting scenes from your favourite movies!’