Chapter 60
60
THE MCARTHUR FOUNDATION FUNDRAISER – THE CRYSTALLINE HOTEL, MANHATTAN
Hayley looked at her watch. There were less than thirty minutes before the doors would open and the very first guests would start to come into the room. She held her breath, looking at the layout in front of her. The tables were heart-shaped and Cynthia had mixed up attendees so everyone would be sitting with someone they weren’t overly familiar with. The table cloths were turquoise, the plates bright white, the tableware shining silver and the glasses all polished so you could see your reflection in them. White and turquoise orchids stood in glass vases in the centre of each table together with platinum, gold and turquoise balloons. Turquoise and platinum drapes hung across the windows with beaded butterfly decorations in the middle of each one. The pastel globes across the stage were lit up, shadows of butterflies fluttering inside every piece. It was everything she had wanted and so much more.
‘It looks wonderful, Hayley,’ Cynthia said, standing at her shoulder.
‘You got the balloons I wanted.’ She turned to face her. ‘How did you do that? ’
‘Ah well, the Drummond name still carries a little weight around this city,’ Cynthia answered, smiling.
Hayley checked her watch again. ‘Have you heard from Oliver?’
Cynthia shook her head. ‘He said the same to me as he told me he said to you.’
‘This is so frustrating. I just want to know.’
‘I know.’ Cynthia put an arm around her shoulders. ‘But let’s look at it this way. The worst outcome is nothing changes.’
That was true but she was praying for something else. A miracle at Christmas. Or perhaps she’d had her fair share of those already with Angel and Michel. Earlier, she’d had a phone conversation with Rita she thought she’d never have. She had cried, her mother had cried and both of them had said things to each other they’d left unsaid for far too long. There had been a full on thawing over tissues on both sides of the Atlantic and whether it was just Rita reading her diary or perhaps Neville from the bowls club softening her, Hayley was glad.
‘The shrimp is lovely,’ Angel said, arriving next to them.
‘I can see that. You’ve got half of it over your face. Come here,’ Hayley said, licking her fingers.
‘Oh no, no, no. Not mum spit!’ Angel screamed, skidding away.
‘I’ll get a wipe,’ Hayley said, about to head across the room to where she’d left her bag.
‘Hayley, wait. I can clean Angel up,’ Cynthia said. ‘You need to change into this.’ She took a couple of steps towards a package on the plinth at the side of the stage. Hayley watched as she brought the box over to her.
‘It’s a clown costume, isn’t it?’ Angel folded her arms across her chest. ‘I told you clowns were a bad idea.’
‘It’s from Oliver,’ Cynthia said, passing it over.
Hayley swallowed. She knew what this was before she even removed the paper. ‘It’s an Emo Taragucci, isn’t it? ’
‘Is it?’ Angel asked, eyes ballooning.
‘I think you ought to take it to the restroom and try it on,’ Cynthia encouraged.
‘I can’t wait to see it!’ Angel exclaimed.
‘Hold up there a second, Miss Shrimp Face; we have wiping to do,’ Cynthia said, taking hold of Angel’s hand.
Hayley smoothed her hand over the light silk as delicate as a feather. The black fabric, bright-pink Japanese blossom falling effortlessly over every inch, was like it had been created just for her. She’d never dreamed she would ever own an Emo Taragucci design. The dress cost thousands of pounds but, what made it all the more special was Oliver knowing which one had been her favourite. He had chosen so perfectly.
She was at the doors to the ballroom waiting for the glitterati of New York to arrive. Through the glass, Hayley could see the snow was still falling, the sky an inky blue, breath from the mouths of the doormen visible in the night air. A woman entered.
‘This is it,’ Cynthia said through gritted teeth. ‘This is Madeline Fisher from the foundation. She’ll be the one inspecting our party favours.’ Cynthia beamed a smile. ‘Madeline! Welcome, welcome! You look wonderful.’
Hayley swallowed, her mouth dry. She checked her watch again. She’d promised not to think about Oliver but it had been on her mind from the minute she woke up. By now, he had to know the outcome of the test results. Would he still come tonight? What if he was home right now, on his own, with the truth no one wanted?
‘Madeline, this is Hayley Walker. She’s the event planner I’ve been working with to coordinate the fundraiser,’ Cynthia introduced.
Hayley stretched out her hand. ‘It’s lovely to meet you.’
‘You’re English,’ Madeline noted, shaking her hand.
‘Yes, but don’t hold it against me.’ Hayley laughed, then shut her mouth up as Madeline failed to react.
‘I heard about poor Aimee. Fancy breaking her foot taking the trash out. I mean, doesn’t she pay someone to take the trash out?’ Madeline asked, her attention back with Cynthia.
‘I’m afraid the gossips are a little off, Madeline. She’s actually got glandular fever. The poor dear can barely whisper,’ Cynthia responded.
Hayley spotted Angel handing out goody bags to guests.
‘Excuse me one moment,’ Hayley said, heading towards her daughter.
She picked up a bag and held it out to a guest as she walked past the table. ‘I need you to cover me,’ Hayley said to Angel, her smile fixed.
‘What d’you mean? Where are you going?’ Angel curtseyed at a lady in an orange ball gown. ‘Welcome to the McArthur Foundation Christmas fundraiser. I hope you enjoy the party bag?—’
‘Favours. Party favours,’ Hayley jumped in. She turned to Angel. ‘It’s not a party bag. Party bags are full of Haribos and cheap plastic crap mums feel they have to buy. There’s gift vouchers and jewellery in these. And that’s not the kind you can eat.’
‘Is there?’ Angel asked, her eyes dropping into the bag she was holding.
‘I need to call Oliver.’
‘Oh no you don’t. He told me you’re not allowed to call him because he’s busy with work.’
Her daughter had no idea about the severity of this situation. She should be handling it better. She checked her watch again. ‘It’s almost half-past seven.’
‘And he’s going to be here any minute.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Because he made me a promise and if he doesn’t keep it, I have a lifetime’s free golden chicories on Rabbit Nation.’
Hayley palmed her face. ‘The suspense is killing me.’
‘I heard one of the waitresses say the menu from every corner of the world is killing the chef. You’re just going to have to be patient, Mum.’ Angel smiled at another guest. ‘Welcome to the McArthur Foundation Christmas fundraiser.’
Outside the Crystalline Hotel, Manhattan
This was, without any doubt, the hardest thing Oliver had ever done. His hands were shaking as he looked at the piece of paper in his hands. So much was going to change and it scared him.
The car stopped outside the Crystalline Hotel and he looked to the front doors, the two Christmas trees at the entrance lit up in platinum and turquoise. He checked his watch. It was edging towards nine. Everyone would have eaten, just like he planned. Before he said anything to his mother or Hayley, he wanted to address the room, like he should have done every year since Ben died.
The car door opened and the driver was there waiting for him to disembark. He should move now, get out, put one foot in front of the other through the snow. His legs were shaking so much, he didn’t know whether he was going to be able to do it. He needed to man up. Own this moment more than he’d ever owned anything before .
He stepped out onto the white sidewalk and slipped the piece of paper into his coat pocket.