‘So she likes my dad?’
‘Angel, she doesn’t know your dad.’ Hayley paused. ‘But she does know us and she doesn’t want either of us to get hurt, that’s all.’
Angel wrinkled her nose. ‘I don’t know if I agree with Nanny playing bowls with Neville.’ She sniffed. ‘We don’t know him at all.’
‘No, we don’t,’ Hayley agreed. ‘But, like us, Nanny’s going to do what she feels is right.’ She sighed. ‘Let’s just hope Neville likes gardening programmes.’
Neville could be a good thing. So could bowls, no matter how that sounded. A little social activity, her mother getting out of the house and away from re-runs ofEscape to the Country.
Hayley turned her attention back to her phone. She typed out a text, being careful not to show Angel.
Dean: Can you have Angel for me later? Got a lead on Michel. PS Sorry Mum knows all about the lifeguard xxx
49
KINGSTON AVENUE, BROOKLYN
Hayley checked the address on the paper again. This couldn’t be where Michel lived; it was too… big. The brownstone she was looking up at had one large door at its centre and an arched window either side. Above were two more storeys. It had to be converted into apartments, didn’t it? Either that or he was a highly successful artist or something else now. She swallowed and thought about phoning him again. Three calls before she’d set off from Dean’s apartment had proved fruitless and she couldn’t bring herself to leave a message.Hi, I’m Hayley. You might not remember me, but we met ten years ago and I had your daughter.Ringing the bell and having a face to face was the only way.
She walked up the steps to the entrance and drew in a heavy breath. What was she going to say? How did she start? Would he even remember her? This situation called for every ounce of bravery she had.
She pressed the bell and waited. Beyoncé’s ‘Single Ladies’ erupted from the bottom of her rucksack. She ignored it, looking through the glass of the door for any signs of movement. Thephone persisted, the whole of the first verse and the start of the chorus. No one was coming to the door. Hayley unzipped her rucksack and ferreted her hands around the contents to retrieve the phone.Dean.
‘Hello,’ she answered.
‘Hey, er, you need to come back here,’ Dean said without further explanation. He sounded guarded, like he couldn’t speak because someone was holding a gun to his head. Or something bad involving Angel had happened. Her heart jumped at that thought.
‘What’s happened? Is Angel OK?’ She put a hand to her chest as palpitations threatened.
‘Angel’s fine…’ Dean lowered his voice. ‘You won’t believe this, Hayley.’ He whispered. ‘Michel is here.’
Manhattan Wheelers’ Football Ground, Manhattan
‘Come on, Danny! Hurt them!’
Oliver had heard Tony’s voice as soon as he started mounting the bleachers at the game. Every step he took towards his friend in the midst of the middle row brought back memories. The grass was still speckled with snow where ground workers had cleared it, and the bright-white lines on the turf were freshly marked. He inhaled, smelling the grease of the burgers and fries from the catering van, just a hint of liniment and sweat. The shouts from the players and the barracking from the stands had once been comforts; now they just taunted him.
He excused himself past other spectators until he was next to Tony. His friend was red-faced, Manhattan Wheelers beanie on his head and half a hot dog hanging from his mouth.
‘Room for another one?’ Oliver asked, already sinking to the bench. He pulled his hat further down his head and blew on his fingers.
Tony dropped his hot dog roll to the floor. ‘Jeez! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?’ He stuffed the remaining sausage between his teeth. ‘No pun intended there, by the way.’
Oliver shook his head, a smile on his face. ‘What’s the score?’
‘They’re getting their asses kicked and Danny’s playing like he’s never seen a ball before.’ Tony got to his feet, gesticulating hard to one of the players. ‘What the hell was that? Are you insane?!’
Danny was Tony’s fifteen-year-old nephew who had always been touted by Tony as the star player of the outfit. But Oliver also knew that Uncle Tony was hard to please.
‘So what are you doing here? You haven’t been here since…’ Tony started, retaking his seat.
‘Since my father died,’ Oliver stated. For a long time after his dream of playing professional football was gone, he’d come along to these small-time games with Tony and Richard. He knew it made his father feel better, thinking they could share something that wasn’t connected with Drummond Global.
‘Well, if I’m honest with you, you haven’t missed that much.’ Tony stood again. ‘Will you look at that, referee?! You’re killing me right now!’
Oliver waited for Tony to sit back down before speaking again. ‘One of my employees was giving Andrew Regis the heads-up on my new tablet.’ Oliver put his hands into the pockets of his woollen coat. ‘He had no intention of merging with Drummond Global; he just wanted to steal our ideas.’
‘The sneaky bastard! I knew he couldn’t be trusted. Didn’t I say he couldn’t be trusted?’ Tony exclaimed. ‘So what happens now?’
