Hayley fought to get her words out over the knot that had strangulated her vocal cords. ‘What? When?’
The girl took another order and began swirling vodka into the cocktail shaker. ‘A month ago? Maybe more.’
She couldn’t believe it.A month ago. Michel was in New York. She wet her lips. ‘Are you sure?’
The barwoman nodded. ‘Yeah, he came in every night for a couple weeks. Sometimes, he sat here at the bar. Said he was an artist.’ The girl smiled. ‘Probably just a line.’
Tension flooded her gut. If only she had been as streetwise as this girl in 2005. The bartender made to move off, shaking the mix of drinks up.
‘Wait,’ Hayley said. She grabbed a paper coaster. ‘Have you got a pen?’
‘One second.’ The barwoman poured the drink into a long glass, added an umbrella, a cherry and a slice of pineapple and finally a straw. It didn’t look dissimilar to the cocktail Coke Angel had made with Vernon.
The girl passed a pen over and Hayley grabbed it like it was an antidote to a lethal snakebite. She began writing furiously on the paper coaster until the whole circle was full.
‘If you see him again…’ She paused to take a breath. ‘These are all my contact details.’ She held on as the girl took hold of the paper. ‘Could you tell him Hayley Walker, the girl in the pink dress who liked fashion, really needs to see him again?’
The bubbling in her stomach was like a chemical experiment where no one knew quite what was going to happen. Hayley finally relinquished the paper and smiled at the bartender. ‘Thank you.’ She stepped back from the bar, a little light-headed. She let the music seep into her, gently allowing her eyes to get used to the strobe and glitter ball reflections. If Michel was here a month ago, he could still be here now. Angel might just get her wish. And how Hayley felt about that, she still didn’t really know.
35
THE CRYSTALLINE HOTEL, DOWNTOWN MANHATTAN
‘Uncle Dean thinks you aren’t talking to him,’ Angel whispered.
They were stood in the lobby of the most impressive hotel Hayley had ever been in, waiting for Cynthia to arrive. The carpet was gold-flecked and the chandeliers threw out shapes of light that bounced off the walls. The green of the Christmas tree was completely over-embellished with blingy ornaments and lights that faded in and out to carol songs.
‘Why would he think that?’ Hayley responded.
‘Because the only words you said to him over breakfast were “we’re out of bagels”.’
‘Weareout of bagels.’
‘Are you fighting because I told him about Majestic Cleaning?’ Angel asked, her eyes wide.
‘No of course not.’
‘I’m sorry I told Uncle Dean,’ Angel said, her eyes moistening.
‘It isn’t your fault, Angel. Let’s just forget it. I’ll calm down, he’ll calm down and someday soon, we’ll be back to sharing tales of Vernon’s cooking.’
‘Someday soon? They say that in books when it’s going to be a really, really long time.’
‘It won’t be that long.’ Hayley checked her watch.
‘Is it likely to be more “shortly” or more “soon”?’
Her mobile began to ring and she swung her rucksack off her shoulder, unzipping it. She located her phone and looked at the number. It wasn’t recognised. Perhaps it was a lead on Michel.
‘Hello.’
‘Good morning, Lois.’
Oliver’s voice had her toes curling and her cheeks heating up in appreciation. She turned her body away from Angel in case she read the body language. ‘Good morning, Clark.’
‘So, I remembered your number.’
‘It seems so.’
