New York Valentine (10 page)

As she stepped out of her bedroom again, she looked almost cheerful.

‘You look gorgeous,’ Annie told her, which was true. ‘Now, here’s your list. The first person to get an investment has lunch bought for them … Talking of lunch, is there anything we could have for breakfast, babes? I’m really not at my best on an empty stomach.’

‘Café two doors along sells muffins to die for.’

‘Shall I go?’

‘Yes, I make start on calls.’

The Village Bakery was indeed a muffin-eater’s paradise. Unable to narrow down the choice, Annie brought back two bagfuls: white chocolate chip, cinnamon and apple, maple and pecan, blueberry and finally banana. Along with two steaming lattes.

She’d thought the muffins would be divided out between herself, Elena and, later, even Lana.

She hadn’t counted on Elena nibbling at barely half of a blueberry muffin and leaving her latte untouched. So, in between the tricky phone calls in which she tried to make funding Perfect Dress sound as positive, breezy and tempting as possible, Annie somehow managed to chew her way through three New York sized muffins.

As one New York sized muffin is the size of a baby’s head that was a lot of muffin.

By the end of the first hour, sixteen calls were made: ten by Elena, six by Annie – she found that she could keep people talking for longer – but not one single penny was reeled in.

The second hour was tougher. To keep her spirits bright and her enthusiasm up, Annie put Elena’s latte in the microwave and used it to wash her way through muffins four … five and then … oh good grief, six.

‘But we already have the orders,’ she explained patiently to the grumpy man at the end of the line, ‘I’d hate for you to be sorry when this is a thriving business and you could have made the big money by getting in early …’

‘The only thing I’m sorry about is lending Svetlana £10,000 in the first place,’ he retorted. ‘So far, I’ve only had £3,000 back and there’s no word about when the rest is coming. So don’t even think about asking me to risk more!’

The line went dead.

When Elena put down her phone, the two looked at each other. ‘I’m depressed,’ Elena said.

‘Well … this is only the first morning.’ Annie tried to sound more upbeat than she really felt.

‘But we do everyone on the list. There are no more names to try,’ Elena pointed out.

‘Shall we phone Svetlana? Maybe she’s had some luck with her names.’ Then Annie had to ask: ‘Couldn’t
she
give us some money to cover this tricky patch?’

‘She gave as much as she could when the business start,’ Elena replied, ‘now she has no more liquid cash for “tax reasons” or something … when you are as rich as Svetlana, money is always complicated. Anyway, I make this problem, I want to solve this problem.’

‘Right …’ Annie tried to understand, but really, if she wanted to, Svetlana could probably just sell off some tiny, unloved earring to cover this shortfall.

The call to Svetlana’s phone registered busy. But Annie’s phone began to buzz in her hand with a text.

‘Still on top of ESB. Brilliant! Cm join me!! L xx’

ESB … it took a second to register that this was Lana texting from the top of the Empire State Building. Maybe she should go. Sunshine was streaming in through the kitchen window; it was another amazing day in this unbelievable city. Maybe Annie should get out there. If she and Elena had called every name on their lists, they’d have to think of another idea, and what better place to go for inspiration than the Empire State Building?

‘We need a break,’ she told Elena, ‘I’m going to go and join Lana. Then let’s meet up somewhere bright and inspiring and see what else we can think of.’

As she headed to the tiny bathroom, to reapply lipstick and make all the other little adjustments required before she was ready to face the immaculately groomed streets of New York, Annie wondered out loud:

‘Is there any factory anywhere that might give us the credit, based on our order books? Then we would just need to find money for the material. Just a two-month credit window? Even one month, if we could get everyone to pay on delivery …’

Once again, Elena shrugged. ‘No,’ she said in a deep and mournful tone: ‘I think is hopeless.’

The Greenwich Village shop assistant:

Blue silk pussy bow blouse (Ann Taylor)
Blue and white pleated skirt (Miu Miu)
Orange patent belt (Century 21)
Orange patent sandals (Gucci via Designer Shoe
Warehouse)
Total est. cost: $470

‘Isn’t that bag just soooo …’

‘I love this!! I love it! I’m never going home. I’m never even coming down!’

These were Lana’s words of greeting as she caught sight of her mum stepping out on to the viewing platform up on the 86th floor of the Empire State Building.

Annie was feeling a little robbed. In the twenty-five minutes since she’d entered the building and been whisked up the escalators to the ticket-buying floor, she’d spent more money than she could ever have imagined … and all on a view. There had been the extortionately expensive ticket, then straight through to the queue for the photo … click … $25 … all ready to be superimposed on the Empire State Building backdrop. The $10 for the pop-up souvenir map she already knew she’d only look at for five seconds. She’d even thrown a dollar into the machine which gave you back a penny … embossed with the Empire State Building, yes, but still a good way of turning a dollar into a penny.

Plus, she had a feeling there was going to be a huge, dazzling array of things she would absolutely just have to buy for her family as soon as she hit the ESB gift shop.

‘Tourist,’ Lana accused her, pointing at the $10 map in her hand.

‘Yeah right and you’re such a New Yorker, standing on top of the Empire State Building gawping. Look at you, eyes out on stalks. Are you having a lovely time?’

‘The best,’ Lana replied and turned her face back to the chain-link fence which protected tourists from the dangers of being up here; including being so overwhelmed by the sight of Manhattan Island stretching out before them in every direction that they’d just faint and topple over in sheer wonder.

It looked amazing. Annie hadn’t expected it to look anything else. Just to the north was the luscious greenery of Central Park, surrounded by the breathtaking apartments it probably took
generations
of mega-wealth to acquire. Downtown a whole cluster of skyscrapers shimmered in the city haze.

‘Look over there.’ Lana pointed to a fat spire which seemed to be entirely covered in gold: ‘Gold roof tiles, just how over-the-top is that? And over there – look, there’s actually a three-storey house, with a garden, on top of a skyscraper. Look at that! I’m sooooo loving this. I’ve decided I’m going to marry the next really fit looking guy I see and become an American and just stay here for ever. Simple.’

Annie smiled. What else could she do? She smiled even though there was a silent voice inside shouting,
Of course you’re not moving to the other side of the Atlantic from me. Don’t even joke about this!

‘Do you know what it is about this view that is so exciting?’ Lana went on, finding it hard to tear her gaze from the glittering buildings downtown. ‘It isn’t the highest building in the city, but it’s high enough and so central that you feel right here, right in the heart of things. This is a view of the whole beating pulse of the place.’

‘The beating pulse,’ Annie repeated, ‘I like that. You’re right. This place just throbs in a way that London doesn’t. Maybe it’s the extremes – the height of the buildings, the length of the avenues, it all takes your breath away. London’s a town that gradually sprawled out into a city. Much more planning went into making New York amazing.’

‘D’you know how big London was when Samuel Johnson said: “Tired of London, tired of life”?’

‘No,’ Annie looked at her, intrigued.

‘Just two square miles, or something like that … back in the 1700s.’

‘Clever clogs … so what do you think you’re going to do next then, darlin’? What’s the clever Lana brain going to focus on now?’

Annie asked the question gently, hoping it was a good moment. So many conversations about Lana’s future plans had gone badly that she was becoming very careful of raising the subject.

‘I’m thinking about it very hard,’ Lana answered, not taking her eyes from the view, ‘I’m going to look into some things and I’ll tell you, just as soon as I know more.’

It was the calmest, most focused reply Lana had given her in weeks.

Annie was just about to tell her daughter how absolutely fine this was when something thrilling, something green and shiny caught her eye. For a moment, she thought the woman walking past was carrying The Bag. The one Annie had longed for ever since she had first set eyes on it in a small and dimly lit show preview video. But no. It wasn’t The Bag, just a cheap imitation. It reminded her about The Bag, though. How could she have forgotten that the last few remaining sea-green Mulberrys were still, just possibly, somewhere in this very city?

All at once Annie’s passion to find The One was reignited.

‘We have to go!’ she told Lana.

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. We’re definitely coming back. Maybe every day. Well, I would if I could get a season ticket or something.’

‘So where are we going?’

‘To Greenwich Village …’ Annie looked through her current handbag to see if the little scrap of paper with the very important bag shop address was still there.

‘Why?’

‘You’ll see …’

‘Is this for work?’

‘Sort of. Well … not exactly, but it’s important.’

‘This is a shopping quest, isn’t it?’

Annie nodded. Lana didn’t laugh, or even let her eyebrows twitch a little. She knew a shopping quest when she saw one and understood just how important it might be.

‘So, to Greenwich Village – at top speed. In a cab, maybe?’

‘Yes … cab. Definitely.’

* * *

When the cab pulled up outside the familiar looking shopfront, Annie felt a burst of anxiety. Was there really still a chance that The Bag would be here?

She glanced at the shop window, almost hoping to see it hanging in splendour, centre stage. But then again, she also didn’t want it to be there, attracting too much attention and causing someone to snatch it from her now.

She waved the fare at the driver and hurried out of the cab, Lana at her heels. As she opened the door to the shop, they were greeted with a delighted: ‘Hello, and how are you today?’ from the nearest glossy assistant.

‘Hi,’ Annie smiled, but after fleeting eye contact, she began to scan the shop slightly feverishly. Was it here? There was navy, and periwinkle blue, a rich, autumnal burgundy, then browns and blacks, of course. But where was the sea green?

‘Oh!’

There! Over there, from the corner of the store came the flash of green. A perfect blue-green. Not too wintery, not too summery, just exactly perfect for this fashion moment. It would go with red, blue, black, purple – all her favourite colours.

She couldn’t stop herself from hurrying over.

‘Oh look!’ she urged Lana, ‘here it is. Isn’t it absolutely perfect?’

Lana smiled but couldn’t agree wholeheartedly. ‘You know I don’t really get the bag thing,’ she had to admit.

Annie had already taken the bag down from its stand and was ‘trying it on’, holding it this way and that, slipping it over her shoulder and critically assessing its proportions and whether or not they went with hers.

The bag was beautiful, perfect in every way. There was no way now that she’d taxied all the way here that she was going to let it go.

She looked at her reflection in the long mirror. Nothing at all was wrong with the bag. But everything was wrong with her. She had the boobs she’d always wanted, yes, but it was all the other lumps and bumps. For the very first time, she saw something a little too like her mum’s lovely, comfortable, cuddly body staring back at her and she felt far too young for that.

Round cuddly bodies looked good on grannies. They did not look good with beautiful bags, statement shoes and expensive dresses. Plus, she was going to run out of designer sizes soon. Only a handful of proper labels could be found in a SIXTEEN.

Just thinking of the word made prickles of sweat leap out from her skin, despite the chilly air-con.

‘Hi, how are you? Isn’t that bag just soooo fabulous?’

Annie was now in the full glare of the shop assistant who’d stepped out from behind the counter, to reveal a brilliantly thought out blue and white outfit with inspired splashes of orange.

‘I’m
loving
it,’ Annie agreed, ‘never taking it off.’

Her mobile began to bleat, so she fished it out of the handbag over her other shoulder and looked at the screen. Ed was calling.

For a split second Annie was torn. On the one hand it was Ed and it was always lovely to hear from him: on the other hand, she was in a handbag shop, about to consider a major purchase. Just exactly the kind of purchase Ed would have a fit about.

But then, what if something had happened and he was desperately trying to get hold of her? She pressed answer immediately.

‘Hello! It’s me, is everything OK?’ she asked.

‘Yes, of course. We’re all fine … do you want to say good-night to the babies?’

Good-night? It seemed just too weird to be standing in Greenwich Village, in a handbag shop, in the middle of a blazingly sunny day about to say goodnight to her babies who were going to bed thousands of miles away in London.

While Lana rolled her eyes, Annie listened to the babbling of each baby in turn and felt a very physical longing to have these little people right here in her arms.

‘That was lovely,’ she told Ed, when he was back on the line. ‘It’s not upset them?’

‘No. They seem pleased. It’s not upset you?’

‘It’s totally upset me,’ she confessed, ‘but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Is everything really fine?’

‘Yes!’ Ed assured her. ‘Where are you right now? Paint me a picture.’

Annie glanced about the shop. This wasn’t exactly a picture that Ed would like. If Lana did not get the bag thing, there was definitely no way at all that Ed got the bag thing.