Bobby's Girl (30 page)

‘Mr Andrew John, Ms Penelope John, this way please.' The uniformed official met them at the steps of the plane. He took them into a small comfortably furnished lounge just inside the building.

A man dressed in a chauffeur's uniform and cap rose to his feet when they entered. His face was heavily scarred, and Penny noticed he had a pronounced limp when he stepped forward to meet them.

‘Ms John, Mr John, I'm Tim Garber, Mr Brosna's chauffeur. He sent me to fetch you.'

‘Our luggage?' Penny asked.

‘They're getting it for you now, ma'am.'

Irritated by the man's subservience, which reminded her of the way Charlotte Brosna's staff had behaved when she'd visited the main house on Cape Cod, she
held out her hand. ‘I'm Penny, not ma'am. You said your name is Tim?'

‘Yes, Penny.' He shook Penny's hand, then Andy's.

‘Nice to meet you, Tim, I'm Andy.'

‘We didn't expect five-star treatment on landing and we certainly didn't expect to be upgraded to first class on the plane,' Penny commented suspiciously.

‘Airlines are always looking for people to upgrade because they oversell the cheap tickets and inflate the price of first-class tickets beyond most people's pockets.'

‘You think so?' Penny looked sceptically at Tim.

There was a discreet knock at the door. Tim opened it. An airport official and a porter were outside.

‘We're here to check Ms and Mr John's visas, sir. We've retrieved their luggage. A porter is waiting to wheel it out for you.'

‘Thank you, Mr Brosna will be most grateful.' Tim discreetly slipped the official and porter tips.

Penny and Andy handed Tim their passports. As soon as they had been stamped, Tim led the way out of the airport. A black limousine with darkened windows was parked outside the ‘arrivals' gate. Tim opened the back door and the trunk for the porter. Penny and Andy climbed into the back.

‘There are refreshments, drinks and champagne in the fridge. Please, help yourself. If you need to talk to me, use the intercom. Enjoy the ride.' Tim closed the inside window.

Andy was gazing intently out the window, straining his neck to catch his first glimpse of America. Penny was
reminded of how she had done the self-same thing when she'd landed in New York in 1968.

‘Don't try to take it all in at once,' she advised. ‘It's impossible, especially around the airport.'

‘It's not what I expected.'

‘I remember saying the same thing to Kate. Your Great-Uncle Haydn once told me that New York is best seen from the air at a distance. His words certainly rang true for me nineteen years ago.'

‘You tired?' Andy asked.

‘I can barely keep my eyes open. I'd forgotten how exhausting a long flight can be.'

‘It was more tiring than flying to Spain, or Italy,' Andy agreed.

‘It took me days to get over jet lag the last time I was here. Right now I feel as though I should be going to bed, not thinking about afternoon tea.' She recalled the meal Bobby had bought her in the coffee shop just after she'd arrived at the hotel and realised she'd landed at practically the same time.

‘Part of our exhaustion could be down to travelling to the airport the day before we flew, the night noise in the airport hotel and having to get up at some ghastly hour this morning so we could sit around for hours before we flew out.' Andy opened the fridge and inspected the contents.

‘I hope I stay awake until we get to the hotel. I fell asleep on the bus last time.'

‘How about a glass of champagne?' Andy removed the bottle.

‘Forget the champagne. I could murder a glass of water.'

Andy took a bottle of water, opened it and filled two glasses. He handed her one, then continued to look out of the window as they drove into the city.

Penny opened her eyes what seemed like only minutes later to discover Tim had pulled up outside the canopied entrance to a hotel. He opened the panel that separated driver from passengers.

‘Mr Brosna's arranged for you and Andy to have one of the penthouses here, Penny.'

‘Won't that be expensive?'

‘Mr Brosna told me to inform you that this hotel is a Brosna business enterprise. The suite and all your expenses during your stay will be met by the company.' Tim reached into his inside pocket and withdrew a letter. ‘He also asked me to give you this.'

‘Thank you.' She took the letter and slipped it into her handbag. ‘Have you known Mr Brosna long?'

‘I've been working for Mr Brosna since August 1969.'

‘Then you know him well.'

‘I have reason to be grateful to Mr Brosna. It wasn't easy for Vietnam veterans to find work when they returned to the States, particularly those disabled as a result of their service.'

‘How long were you in Vietnam?' She wondered if he had known Sandy and acquired the job through personal recommendation.

‘Too long, Penny.' Tim left the car and opened the trunk.

A top-hatted, uniformed doorman stepped out from beneath the canopy and opened the car door. Penny
climbed out of the limousine and looked around. The sidewalks were more crowded than she remembered, but the streets were cleaner and the people appeared more prosperous.

‘I'll arrange to have your luggage delivered to your suite,' Tim assured her.

‘Thank you and thank you for the ride. I'll see you again?'

‘Almost certainly, Penny.'

Penny shook hands with Tim again before entering the foyer.

The receptionist excused herself from the people she was dealing with and walked over to Penny and Andy.

‘Ms John, Mr John, welcome. This is your welcome pack and the keys to your suite.' She handed them to a bellboy. ‘Gary will accompany you. I hope you enjoy your stay with us, ma'am, sir.'

‘Thank you.' Penny and Andy followed Gary to a discreet corner of the foyer.

‘This private elevator takes you directly to the penthouse floor, ma'am,' Gary explained. He opened the door and when they entered she saw there was only one button. He waited until Penny and Andy stood alongside him, pressed it and the elevator slid effortlessly upwards.

The doors opened in a wood-panelled hall floored with ceramic tiles. There were only two doors.

‘You and Mr John are in the Emperor Suite, ma'am.' Gary opened the door and stood aside to allow them to enter ahead of him.

Penny noted the other door was labelled ‘Royal Suite'.

She walked into an enormous, light, spacious living area. One wall was glass.

‘This is the door to the terrace, ma'am.' Gary pressed a button and part of the glass wall slid back. Penny stepped into a conservatory furnished with wooden-framed chairs and a matching table. Gary opened a second door that allowed access on to an outside balcony. She stepped outside and breathed in a lungful of warm humid air.

‘Fresh air is rare in New York,' she said to Gary.

‘It certainly is, ma'am.'

She returned to the living area. The sofas and chairs were cream leather, the carpet cream, the furniture
good-quality
reproduction antique French.

Gary opened two doors that led out of the rooms. ‘There are two bedrooms, ma'am, with en suite bathrooms. The room service menu and house telephone numbers are in the desk.' He rolled back the top. ‘If you should need anything, room service and reception are manned 24–7.'

‘Thank you, Gary.' Penny opened her handbag and removed a five-dollar bill. She handed it to the boy.

‘Thank you, ma'am. Your keys are on the desk.' He left the suite, closing the door quietly behind him.

‘You have to see the bathrooms, they're fantastic. Both have walk-in multi-jet showers and there are separate whirlpool tubs, double sinks …'

Andy was so excited that Penny followed him into one of the bedrooms. Before she reached the bathroom she was transfixed by the size of the bed. It was the largest she'd seen. Opposite it was an enormous television and
a glass-fronted fridge filled with soft drinks, beer, wine and liquor.

‘I thought we lived well and our house was luxurious. I had no idea people lived like this.' Andy's voice echoed from the bathroom.

She followed him. ‘We do live well, Andy.' She suppressed her irritation and tried to modify her lecturing tone. ‘Our house is fine. The only people who can afford to live like this are extremely wealthy.'

‘Which I suppose I will be, if I accept the Brosna inheritance.'

‘Yes, I suppose you will,' she conceded as the implications of Charlotte Brosna's will hit her anew.

‘I can't wait to try the shower and whirlpool bath.'

‘Why don't you?'

‘Water would wake me up and make me feel more human.'

‘Don't fall asleep in the bath,' she warned.

‘I'm not likely to do that.'

‘You wouldn't be the first jet-lagged traveller to do just that,' she smiled, thinking of her and Kate's
room-mate
. ‘Are you hungry?'

‘I prefer to have a shower first. If I'm peckish afterwards I might raid the fruit basket I saw in the living room.'

‘I'll unpack and shower as well. Get together in an hour or so?'

‘Sounds good to me. Which bedroom do you want?'

‘As you're here, you can keep this one.'

She left him and went into the conservatory. The air was warm. Too warm. Something else she'd forgotten about – the heat and humidity of a New York summer.
She closed the door to the outside terrace, turned up the air conditioning, retrieved the letter from her handbag and opened it.

Penny folded the letter and returned it to her handbag. She checked that the bundle of letters she had taken from her desk at home were still there.

Only then did she open her suitcase and remove the
simply cut, short-sleeved, crinkle silk dress that was one of her favourites. She'd packed it because it was impossible to crease. She went into the bathroom, showered and washed her hair and applied body lotion, perfume, deodorant and cosmetics with more care than she'd taken in years.

She dried her long hair and twisted it into a simple knot at the nape of her neck. Her underclothes were silk, as were her stockings. She slipped on the dress and cinched it in at the waist with a leather belt.

She checked her reflection in the cheval mirror and added simple black-pearl earrings, a plain silver watch and the final touch: a black and white silk striped scarf.

Her court shoes were plain with two-inch heels. Did she look too severe? Like an applicant for a job interview?

Deciding she'd spent enough time on her appearance, she picked up the telephone receiver in her bedroom with a shaking hand and dialled the number at the foot of the page of Bobby's letter.

It was answered immediately and she visualised Bobby sitting in a chair next to the phone, waiting for it to ring.

‘Hello?'

Whatever else had changed during the last nineteen years, his voice certainly hadn't.

‘It's Penny.'

‘I'll open the door and wait for you. Do you still drink beer?'

‘I prefer dry white wine.'

‘I'll open a bottle and pour you a glass.'

She picked up her handbag, left her bedroom and knocked on the door of the adjoining bedroom.

‘I'm not asleep.' Andy's voice sounded distant as it echoed from behind the closed door of the bathroom through the empty bedroom.

‘I'm going out for half an hour or so.'

‘Wait.' There was the sound of water splashing. ‘I'll come with you.'

‘No, we've been invited out to dinner. I'll be back in good time. Enjoy the suite and order anything you want from room service.'

She didn't wait for him to reply. Picking up one of the sets of keys she left the suite, closed the door behind her and walked to the second door off the hall. It was ajar.

She knocked and entered. The luxury and layout of the suite were similar to the one she and Andy occupied.

He was sitting waiting for her in the conservatory. He left his chair and turned towards her. He was wearing a silk hood over his face, with slits at eye and mouth level. The slits were large enough for her to see his painfully familiar blue eyes. He wore a Panama on his head; his suit was lightweight beige linen, his white cotton shirt fastened at the neck by a beige silk tie.

He lifted a glass of wine and held it out to her.

She walked across the room, opened the door and joined him in the conservatory.

‘Penny, before we go any further, there is something you should know—'