Still Me
Page 39
I heard Ashok’s footsteps in the hall, and the door open behind me.
‘Don’t come in,’ I whispered. ‘She’s nearly there … Himmler had something similar …’
Ashok stayed where he was.
‘But poor old Goebbels had no balls at all.’
And just like that she was asleep. I waited a moment, placed my turquoise cashmere round-neck over her to keep her from getting chilly, and then I climbed to my feet.
‘You can leave her in here, if you like,’ I whispered. ‘Ilaria’s in the kitchen with the other two. I think she’s –’
I turned and let out a yelp. Sam stood in my doorway, his arms folded and a half-smile on his face. A holdall sat on the floor between his feet. I blinked at him, wondering if I was hallucinating. And then my hands rose slowly to my face.
‘Surprise!’ he mouthed silently, and I stumbled across the room and pushed him out into the hall where I could kiss him.
He had planned it the night I had told him about my unexpected free weekend, he told me. Jake had been no problem – there was no shortage of friends happy to take a free concert ticket – and he had reorganized his work, begging favours and swapping shifts. Then he had booked a last-minute cheap flight and come to surprise me.
‘You’re lucky I didn’t decide to do the same to you.’
‘The thought did cross my mind, at thirty thousand feet. I had this sudden vision of you flying in the opposite direction.’
‘How long have we got?’
‘Only forty-eight hours, I’m afraid. I have to leave early Monday morning. But, Lou, I just – I didn’t want to wait another few weeks.’
He didn’t say any more but I knew what he meant. ‘I’m so happy you did. Thank you. Thank you. So who let you in?’
‘Your man at Reception. He warned me about the kids. Then asked me whether I’d recovered from my food poisoning.’ He raised an eyebrow.
‘Yeah. There are no secrets in this building.’
‘He also told me that you were a doll and the nicest person here. Which I knew already, of course. And then some little old lady with a yappy dog came along the corridor and started yelling at him about refuse collection so I left him to it.’
We drank coffee until Ashok’s wife arrived and took the children back. Her name was Meena and, glowing with the residual energy of her community march, she thanked me wholeheartedly and told us about the library in Washington Heights they were trying to save. Ilaria didn’t seem to want to hand Abhik back to her: she was busy chuckling to him, gently pinching his cheeks and making him laugh. The whole time we stood there with the two women, chatting, I felt Sam’s hand on the small of my back, his huge frame filling our kitchen, his free hand around one of our coffee cups, and I felt suddenly as if this place were a few degrees more my home because I would now be able to picture him in it.
‘Very pleased to meet you,’ he had said to Ilaria, holding out his hand, and instead of her normal look of blank suspicion, she had smiled, a small smile, and shaken it. I realised how few people took the trouble to introduce themselves to her. She and I were invisibles, most of the time, and Ilaria – perhaps by virtue of her age, or nationality – even more so than me.
‘Make sure Mr Gopnik doesn’t see him,’ she muttered, as Sam went to the bathroom. ‘No boyfriends allowed in the building. Use the service entrance.’ She shook her head as if she couldn’t believe she was acceding to something so immoral.
‘Ilaria, I won’t forget this. Thank you,’ I said. I put my arms out as if to hug her but she gave me the gimlet stare. I stopped in my tracks and turned it into a sort of double thumbs-up instead.
We ate pizza – with safe vegetarian toppings – and then we stopped in a dark, grubby bar where baseball blared from a small TV screen over our heads and sat at a tiny table with our knees pressed together. Half the time I had no idea what we were talking about because I couldn’t believe Sam was there, in front of me, leaning back in his chair, laughing at things I said and running his hand over his head. As if by mutual consent we kept off the topics of Katie Ingram and Josh, and instead we talked about our families. Jake had a new girlfriend and was rarely at Sam’s any more. He missed him, he said, even as he understood that no seventeen-year-old boy really wanted to be hanging around with his uncle. ‘He’s a lot happier, and his dad still hasn’t sorted himself out, so I should just be glad for him. But it’s weird. I got used to having him around.’
‘You can always go and see my family,’ I said.
‘I know.’
‘Can I just tell you for the fifty-eighth time how happy I am that you’re here?’
‘You can tell me anything you like, Louisa Clark,’ he said softly, and lifted my knuckles to his lips.
We stayed at the bar until eleven. Oddly, despite the amount of time we had together, neither of us felt the panicky urgency we’d had last time to make the most of every minute. That he was there was such an unexpected bonus that I think we had both silently agreed just to enjoy being around each other. There was no need to sightsee, to tick off experiences or to run to bed. It was, as the young people say, all good.
We fell out of the bar wrapped around each other, as happy drunks do, and I stepped onto the kerb, put two fingers into my mouth and whistled, not flinching as the yellow cab screeched to a halt in front of me. I turned to motion Sam in, but he was staring at me.
‘Oh. Yeah. Ashok taught me. You have to kind of put your fingers underneath your tongue. Look – like this.’
I beamed at him, but something about his expression troubled me. I thought he’d enjoy my little taxi-summoning flourish, but instead it was as if he suddenly didn’t recognize me.
We arrived back to a silent building. The Lavery stood hushed and majestic overlooking the park, rising out of the noise and chaos of the city as if it were somehow above that kind of thing. Sam stopped as we reached the covered walkway that extended from the front door and gazed up at the structure towering above him, at its monumental brick façade, its Palladian-style windows. He shook his head, almost to himself, and we walked in. The marble lobby was hushed, the night man dozing in Ashok’s office. We ignored the service lift and walked up the staircase, our feet muffled on the huge sweep of royal blue carpet, our hands sliding along the polished brass balustrade, then walked up another flight until we were on the Gopniks’ corridor. In the distance Dean Martin started to bark. I let us in and closed the huge door softly behind us.
Nathan’s light was off, and along the corridor Ilaria’s TV burbled distantly. Sam and I tiptoed through the large hall, past the kitchen and down to my room. I changed into a T-shirt, wishing, suddenly, that I slept in something a little more sophisticated, then went into the bathroom and started to clean my teeth. I wandered out, still brushing, to find Sam sitting on the bed, staring at the wall. I looked at him as quizzically as you can, when you have a mouthful of peppermint-flavoured foam.
‘What?’
‘It’s … strange,’ he said.
‘My T-shirt?’
‘No. Being here. In this place.’
I turned back to the bathroom, spat and rinsed my mouth.
‘It’s fine,’ I began, turning off the tap. ‘Ilaria is cool and Mr Gopnik won’t be back until Sunday evening. If you’re really uncomfortable tomorrow I’ll book us a room in this little hotel Nathan knows two blocks down and we can –’
He shook his head. ‘Not this. You. Here. When we were at the hotel it was just like you and me as normal. We were just in a different location. Here, I can finally see how everything has changed for you. You live on Fifth Avenue, for crying out loud. One of the most expensive addresses in the world. You work in this crazy building. Everywhere smells of money. And it’s totally normal to you.’
I felt oddly defensive. ‘I’m still me.’
‘Sure,’ he said. ‘But you’re in a different place now. Literally.’
He said it evenly, but there was something in the conversation that made me feel uneasy. I padded up to him in my bare feet, put my hands on his shoulders and said, with a little more urgency than I had intended, ‘I’m still just Louisa Clark, your slightly wonky girl from Stortfold.’ When he didn’t speak, I added, ‘I’m just the hired help here, Sam.’
‘Don’t come in,’ I whispered. ‘She’s nearly there … Himmler had something similar …’
Ashok stayed where he was.
‘But poor old Goebbels had no balls at all.’
And just like that she was asleep. I waited a moment, placed my turquoise cashmere round-neck over her to keep her from getting chilly, and then I climbed to my feet.
‘You can leave her in here, if you like,’ I whispered. ‘Ilaria’s in the kitchen with the other two. I think she’s –’
I turned and let out a yelp. Sam stood in my doorway, his arms folded and a half-smile on his face. A holdall sat on the floor between his feet. I blinked at him, wondering if I was hallucinating. And then my hands rose slowly to my face.
‘Surprise!’ he mouthed silently, and I stumbled across the room and pushed him out into the hall where I could kiss him.
He had planned it the night I had told him about my unexpected free weekend, he told me. Jake had been no problem – there was no shortage of friends happy to take a free concert ticket – and he had reorganized his work, begging favours and swapping shifts. Then he had booked a last-minute cheap flight and come to surprise me.
‘You’re lucky I didn’t decide to do the same to you.’
‘The thought did cross my mind, at thirty thousand feet. I had this sudden vision of you flying in the opposite direction.’
‘How long have we got?’
‘Only forty-eight hours, I’m afraid. I have to leave early Monday morning. But, Lou, I just – I didn’t want to wait another few weeks.’
He didn’t say any more but I knew what he meant. ‘I’m so happy you did. Thank you. Thank you. So who let you in?’
‘Your man at Reception. He warned me about the kids. Then asked me whether I’d recovered from my food poisoning.’ He raised an eyebrow.
‘Yeah. There are no secrets in this building.’
‘He also told me that you were a doll and the nicest person here. Which I knew already, of course. And then some little old lady with a yappy dog came along the corridor and started yelling at him about refuse collection so I left him to it.’
We drank coffee until Ashok’s wife arrived and took the children back. Her name was Meena and, glowing with the residual energy of her community march, she thanked me wholeheartedly and told us about the library in Washington Heights they were trying to save. Ilaria didn’t seem to want to hand Abhik back to her: she was busy chuckling to him, gently pinching his cheeks and making him laugh. The whole time we stood there with the two women, chatting, I felt Sam’s hand on the small of my back, his huge frame filling our kitchen, his free hand around one of our coffee cups, and I felt suddenly as if this place were a few degrees more my home because I would now be able to picture him in it.
‘Very pleased to meet you,’ he had said to Ilaria, holding out his hand, and instead of her normal look of blank suspicion, she had smiled, a small smile, and shaken it. I realised how few people took the trouble to introduce themselves to her. She and I were invisibles, most of the time, and Ilaria – perhaps by virtue of her age, or nationality – even more so than me.
‘Make sure Mr Gopnik doesn’t see him,’ she muttered, as Sam went to the bathroom. ‘No boyfriends allowed in the building. Use the service entrance.’ She shook her head as if she couldn’t believe she was acceding to something so immoral.
‘Ilaria, I won’t forget this. Thank you,’ I said. I put my arms out as if to hug her but she gave me the gimlet stare. I stopped in my tracks and turned it into a sort of double thumbs-up instead.
We ate pizza – with safe vegetarian toppings – and then we stopped in a dark, grubby bar where baseball blared from a small TV screen over our heads and sat at a tiny table with our knees pressed together. Half the time I had no idea what we were talking about because I couldn’t believe Sam was there, in front of me, leaning back in his chair, laughing at things I said and running his hand over his head. As if by mutual consent we kept off the topics of Katie Ingram and Josh, and instead we talked about our families. Jake had a new girlfriend and was rarely at Sam’s any more. He missed him, he said, even as he understood that no seventeen-year-old boy really wanted to be hanging around with his uncle. ‘He’s a lot happier, and his dad still hasn’t sorted himself out, so I should just be glad for him. But it’s weird. I got used to having him around.’
‘You can always go and see my family,’ I said.
‘I know.’
‘Can I just tell you for the fifty-eighth time how happy I am that you’re here?’
‘You can tell me anything you like, Louisa Clark,’ he said softly, and lifted my knuckles to his lips.
We stayed at the bar until eleven. Oddly, despite the amount of time we had together, neither of us felt the panicky urgency we’d had last time to make the most of every minute. That he was there was such an unexpected bonus that I think we had both silently agreed just to enjoy being around each other. There was no need to sightsee, to tick off experiences or to run to bed. It was, as the young people say, all good.
We fell out of the bar wrapped around each other, as happy drunks do, and I stepped onto the kerb, put two fingers into my mouth and whistled, not flinching as the yellow cab screeched to a halt in front of me. I turned to motion Sam in, but he was staring at me.
‘Oh. Yeah. Ashok taught me. You have to kind of put your fingers underneath your tongue. Look – like this.’
I beamed at him, but something about his expression troubled me. I thought he’d enjoy my little taxi-summoning flourish, but instead it was as if he suddenly didn’t recognize me.
We arrived back to a silent building. The Lavery stood hushed and majestic overlooking the park, rising out of the noise and chaos of the city as if it were somehow above that kind of thing. Sam stopped as we reached the covered walkway that extended from the front door and gazed up at the structure towering above him, at its monumental brick façade, its Palladian-style windows. He shook his head, almost to himself, and we walked in. The marble lobby was hushed, the night man dozing in Ashok’s office. We ignored the service lift and walked up the staircase, our feet muffled on the huge sweep of royal blue carpet, our hands sliding along the polished brass balustrade, then walked up another flight until we were on the Gopniks’ corridor. In the distance Dean Martin started to bark. I let us in and closed the huge door softly behind us.
Nathan’s light was off, and along the corridor Ilaria’s TV burbled distantly. Sam and I tiptoed through the large hall, past the kitchen and down to my room. I changed into a T-shirt, wishing, suddenly, that I slept in something a little more sophisticated, then went into the bathroom and started to clean my teeth. I wandered out, still brushing, to find Sam sitting on the bed, staring at the wall. I looked at him as quizzically as you can, when you have a mouthful of peppermint-flavoured foam.
‘What?’
‘It’s … strange,’ he said.
‘My T-shirt?’
‘No. Being here. In this place.’
I turned back to the bathroom, spat and rinsed my mouth.
‘It’s fine,’ I began, turning off the tap. ‘Ilaria is cool and Mr Gopnik won’t be back until Sunday evening. If you’re really uncomfortable tomorrow I’ll book us a room in this little hotel Nathan knows two blocks down and we can –’
He shook his head. ‘Not this. You. Here. When we were at the hotel it was just like you and me as normal. We were just in a different location. Here, I can finally see how everything has changed for you. You live on Fifth Avenue, for crying out loud. One of the most expensive addresses in the world. You work in this crazy building. Everywhere smells of money. And it’s totally normal to you.’
I felt oddly defensive. ‘I’m still me.’
‘Sure,’ he said. ‘But you’re in a different place now. Literally.’
He said it evenly, but there was something in the conversation that made me feel uneasy. I padded up to him in my bare feet, put my hands on his shoulders and said, with a little more urgency than I had intended, ‘I’m still just Louisa Clark, your slightly wonky girl from Stortfold.’ When he didn’t speak, I added, ‘I’m just the hired help here, Sam.’
