Angel piped up. ‘Actually, the flight time is seven and a half hours and one of the films isAlvin and the Chipmunks.’
‘Great,’ Hayley said. ‘Annoying, singing rodents. That should pass the time and soothe the stress right out of everybody.’
‘Anyone would think you’re not looking forward to this holiday,’ Rita said.
She was obviously making too much out of this and her mother’s relentless questioning wasn’t helping. She had to make it out of the country without a whiff of anything other than Happy Holidays plans.
‘Don’t be silly. Of course I’m looking forward to it. It’s snowing there, isn’t it, Angel?’ Hayley grinned at her daughter.
‘Yes, minus four degrees and set to get so cold, you could throw a pan of boiling water in the air and watch it turn to snow before your eyes.’
‘I’m not sure throwing pans of hot water around is something to be encouraged,’ Rita said seriously, directing her gaze at Hayley.
‘It’s all over the TV,’ Angel said.
‘So is that awful woman who sings about snakes and that’s definitely not a good thing.’
Hayley furrowed her brow at her mother. ‘Do you mean NickiMinaj?’ She shuddered again. ‘Because I hate to tell you this but she’s not actually singing about snakes.’
‘Did you know snakes don’t have eyelids,’ Angel asked, hugging her dictionary to her chest.
‘How did a conversation about snow turn into this?’ Hayley looked desperately at the rows of people ahead of her. ‘And why won’t this bloody queue move?’
‘If you’re getting anxious here, you wait until you see the queues for taxis at JFK,’ Rita said.
Hayley spoke through gritted teeth. ‘Ihavebeen to New York before.’
Rita shot her a look. ‘How could I forget?’
Hayley swallowed and moved her eyes to Angel, who was regarding them both, sensing the atmosphere but not knowing the cause.
‘You’re right,’ Hayley said quickly. ‘But we’re British. We’re experts at queuing and waiting our turn. If all else fails, I’ll act all foppish and bumbling like Hugh Grant and wait for someone to take pity on us.’
Angel let out a tinkle of a laugh while Rita just continued to look sour. Only Hayley knew the puckered lips were all for her and nothing to do with the Fisherman’s Friend.
‘Mum, we’re going to have to go through security because we have a gate allocated already.’
Hayley watched Rita fuss around Angel. The hair was being pressed into place, the red coat – still a bone of contention for her mother – was being fastened up tight, her cheeks cupped, kind words being expressed.
‘Now,’ Rita started. ‘Remember to look both ways very carefully when you cross the road because they drive on the right.’
‘Yes, Nanny,’ Angel said with sincerity.
‘And don’t have a hot dog from one of those street vendors on the corner of everywhere. There’s a reason they don’t have a shop.’
‘Yes, Nanny.’
Hayley immediately craved the biggest hot dog they could find from the grungiest-looking guy the second they got there. ‘We have to go.’
‘All right!’ Rita barked. ‘Can’t I have five minutes to say goodbye to my granddaughter?’
And your daughter. Hayley chewed her lip and tried to dismiss the words that bit. It was good Rita cared so much about Angel. She checked her watch again.
‘I hope your hospital appointment goes OK, Nanny,’ Angel said. Rita would be fine. A neighbour was going with her to the hospital and she had a year’s supply of after dinner mints and an arctic roll.
‘Freda and I will have a pensioner’s lunch at the coffee shop there.’ She put her hands on Angel’s shoulders. ‘Don’t forget to give your Uncle Dean a kiss from me and tell him how much I miss him.’
The golden child. The one she put up on a pedestal as high as the Chrysler Building. Hayley cleared her throat, hoping to dislodge the bad feeling.
