‘Really?’ Cynthia responded, looking sceptical.
Hayley felt the blush hit her cheeks. She was as bad as Angel.
‘Or a hat,’ Angel added, nodding.
Hayley took hold of Angel’s arm and squeezed, directing her behind her own body. Perhaps Angel was right about the hat. Maybe her daughter was inheriting her fashion instincts.
Cynthia smiled at them as she buttoned up her coat and took a step towards the door. She turned back. ‘If you need anything, just ask Sophia.’
As if she’d been summoned, a short, dark-haired woman of something like Puerto Rican origin appeared from another room. Hayley smiled awkwardly. Housekeeper? Couldn’t she clean?
‘Have a lovely meeting!’ Angel said a little too enthusiastically.
Cynthia stopped on the doorstep and Hayley tried to keep Angel behind her.
‘Your house is going to be Diana-ed to perfection by the time you’re done.’ Hayley nodded and dipped her body into a bow. Why had she bowed? Was that in the Majestic remit?
Cynthia was looking even more bewildered now and Hayley didn’t blame her. This whole situation was farcical. As Cynthia left the house, Hayley swung the door shut, leaning heavily against it. It took a second for her to realise she was being scrutinised by Sophia. The dark-haired woman was looking at them both with suspicion in her eyes. Hayley straightened up, putting her hands to her hat and adjusting it. Then she clapped her hands together and met Sophia’s gaze. ‘So, show me the dirt!’
Central Park, New York
Oliver didn’t know where he was going but he knew he couldn’t go back to the office in this frame of mind. It was like the city was spinning, the high rises falling forward, threatening to spill all over him like some big budget disaster movie. He felt sick, his stomach sat in his chest, pressure crushing him, breathing shallow. Putting one foot in front of the other through the snow-lined paths of the park felt like walking a high wire.
His mother and Andrew Regis. That was what her visit to the office was about the other day. She’d wrapped it up in a Christmas invitation, tested the water, then, when it all blew up, she threw the McArthur Foundation at him and chickened out. He shook his head, looking across the park to a family playing in the snow. Just like the Drummonds had, all those years ago.
He bent down, sinking his hands into the freezing-cold whitestuff. He let his fingers rest there until the icy feeling started to burn his skin hot. What was happening to him? He’d never felt more out of control in every area of his life.
He balled the snow up into his palms, rolling it around in his hands, pressing and squeezing, shaping it hard. Maybe he should pretend it was Andrew Regis’s head. Did that make him immature? Was it wrong to be so affected by the news his mother was moving on romantically? His father had been dead a while. The emotion knotted in his throat. No, something about it was off. Just how long had it been going on?
He stood up, pulled his arm back and launched the snowball into orbit, not caring where it landed or who it might hit. He punched his reddened hands down into his pockets and watched the ball smash into a litter bin. What would Ben do?
He shrugged his shoulders up and down, attempting to warm his body. Why was he thinking that? It was pointless. Ben wasn’t here and they were two different people.Verydifferent people. Ben had been adored. He had just been the second child. The add-on. The second screen subscription onNetflixno one was really sure they wanted but had anyway, just in case. Just in case what? Something happened to the first one? Well, it had; the first one was gone.
His eyes went to the newspaper seller on the corner, where the park met the street. Even from this distance, he could still make out his photo.One Wish in Manhattan. He shook his head.Lois. Hayley. He couldn’t imagine why she had done this. To get back at him for making fun of her wish? It seemed extreme. And it hurt. Bad press he could deal with. Her kissing him then selling him out? Well, it burned.
He needed something. A pick-me-up. Just enough distraction to get him through the day. It seemed the welcoming lights of a bar were beckoning him from across the street.
Westchester, New York
There was no pit of doom in the lounge or anywhere else. Nothing was out of place in the entire house. Not one cushion needed plumping, not one rug needed vacuuming and Hayley could see her reflection in all the surfaces. She had no idea what she was supposed to do to make it different. Angel was humming ‘Jingle Bells’ on a loop, pushing a J-cloth up and down the windowsill and she was polishing the life out of the ornaments that already glittered as much as the diamonds in Tiffany’s. Suddenly, Angel stopped humming and looked to Hayley.
‘There aren’t any photos!’ her daughter announced.
‘What?’
‘There aren’t any photos in here, or in any of the other rooms,’ Angel stated.
Hayley’s eyes shot to the main display cabinet and saw her daughter was right. Photos were what made a house a home. Not these stylish, funny-shaped ornaments, the urns of flowers, the chenille cushions and the deep pile rugs. There was nothing in the décor that said anything about the people who lived in the house. The furnishings shouted money but that was all.
‘She seemed quite nice,’ Angel remarked, a delicate sigh leaving her lips.
‘The fact she doesn’t have any photos on display doesn’t make her horrible.’
‘We could look in the drawers,’ Angel suggested.
‘Angel!’
‘I just thought, if it’s a Diana, the personal touch, the focus on the family… We could see if there are some photos and put them out.’
