‘Could we phone Michel?’ Angel asked.
Hayley stiffened. She’d called Michel half a dozen times the night before and left messages. There had only been endless ringing and the bleep of the answerphone. It was up to her to try and make it right. She’d apologised over and over, she’d tearfullybegged and told him how much Angel wanted this until she’d run out of words.
‘Listen, I think we should just give him a minute to get used to things. I mean, before yesterday, he didn’t know about you, Angel.’
‘I know but he was really nice and?—’
‘Hey, I promise we’ll call him tomorrow, OK? Besides, I need your help today. I’ve got a million phone calls to make about the fundraiser and emails to chase up and I need to meet with Cynthia.’
Hayley stopped talking. She had promised Angel two things on this holiday: one was she would find her father and the other was to spend quality time with her. She’d found the man but he’d run off, she’d wasted her time with a billionaire and she’d got a job. She was scoring so badly on every count. She swallowed down a mouthful of overdone waffle. What was running through Angel’s overactive mind right now? She’d wished for her father for months and now they’d found him, he’d run out on them. She wanted to hold her daughter close, shut all the doors to this harsh side of life and protect her from everything and everyone. It had worked for so many years. This was her fault. She had invited in this heartache.
She smiled at Angel. ‘Listen, I promise, if I get all the things on my list done by this afternoon, we’ll go skating at the Rockefeller Center.’
‘Yay!’ Angel exclaimed. ‘And can we get a Hillary Clinton bobble head? I promised I’d bring one back for Jessica.’
‘I’m scared that those even exist.’ Hayley smiled through a mouthful of waffle.
The intercom buzzed and Hayley slipped down off her stool. Had she ordered something for the fundraiser to be delivered here? She needed to get her list in order. She’d drawn butterfliesall over her writing last night plus an idea for a dress she was never going to get to make.
‘Hello,’ she answered.
‘Hayley?’
Michel. Her heart jolted and immediately, her eyes went to Angel, who had juice drizzling down her chin.
‘Yes… I’m here…’ She swallowed.
‘About last night, I?—’
‘Shh, la la la la la, it’s OK, don’t speak any more. I’m coming down.’ She shut the intercom off before Michel could say anything else. The last thing she wanted was for Angel to know how he had bolted from the flat like his clothes were on fire.
She saw Angel open her mouth to speak but she pointed, warning her not to. ‘Wipe your face. I’ll be back.’
Drummond Global Offices, Downtown Manhattan
It was just nerves this time. Oliver’s heart was pounding hard as he pumped the stress ball in his hand. He felt sick and clammy. He couldn’t concentrate.
‘Do you want me to get Delaney to draft something for the press?’ Clara asked.
He hadn’t heard what she’d said. What were they talking about now? Had they moved on from Peter Lamont?
‘I’m sorry, Clara. What were we discussing?’
‘All this stuff with Andrew and Peter is getting to you, isn’t it? How could it not? I just can’t believe it of Peter. His poor wife and the children.’
‘What I told you about that, Clara, it goes no further.’ Oliver let out a sigh, his chest burning. ‘Peter has been fired for leakingconfidential information to a competitor, nothing else. His private life stays that way, for Andrew Regis too. This whole thing is already killing my mother.’
‘Howisshe?’
‘Throwing herself into the McArthur Foundation fundraiser. I don’t think it’s fully hit her yet.’
He put his hand to the knot of his tie and loosened it a little. Was it hot in here? Outside the windows, he could see the snow was falling again. What was Hayley doing right now? Was she with his mother organising the fundraiser he couldn’t be part of or was she with Michel? The last thought stung. He cared about her, really cared about her, but he had to let her go. Whatever this guy turned out to be, Oliver could almost guarantee he didn’t have a life-limiting condition going on.
‘And what about you, Oliver?’
‘Dean Walker has been made head of department. He was in charge of the Globe anyway so it makes sense?—’
‘You haven’t answered the question.’
