Mistletoe on 34th Street Page 18

  ‘Know what?’ he gulped.

  ‘About you and Dee, of course. I’ve known for a long time, and the reality is that everyone knows.’

  Ian swallowed again, his Adam’s apple hopping about nervously. ‘Everyone?’ he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

  ‘Yes, you’re hardly MI5 agents, it’s obvious you two like each other and we’ve all seen the hand touches, the longing looks … Some of us have even heard the successful application to the mile-high club,’ I added, raising an eyebrow.

  ‘Oh God.’

  ‘If you want to share a room just share a room, nobody’s going to care, and at least we won’t run into you in the corridor in the middle of the night sneaking off for secret trysts.’

  ‘I’d better talk to Dee about this.’

  ‘Do. Why don’t you just come clean, admit you’re seeing each other. Or bonking. Whatever this is, no one cares.’

  ‘We’re married.’

  My jaw might have fallen clean off and rolled away down the corridor. They were what? I stood for a moment just glaring into Ian’s eyeballs while he shuffled uncomfortably. Why – how – why didn’t they invite me to their wedding? ‘You’re MARRIED?!’

  ‘Shhhh.’

  ‘What the hell do you mean you’re married? To who?’

  ‘To each other.’

  ‘That’s not possible. You don’t even live together!’ Ah-ha! Liars! I knew they’d invite me to their wedding if they were really getting hitched.

  ‘Actually we do. Dee still has her Balham house that she rents out, and we both live at my – our – place in Forest Hill.’

  ‘But you rarely leave work at the same time or arrive together?’ Wait a minute; they were only ever five or ten minutes out from each other … ‘How long have you been married?’

  ‘A little over a year.’

  I sat down on the floor in shock and rested my back against the wall. ‘Why didn’t you tell anyone? We would have been happy for you. We would have wanted to get you a wedding present.’ We would have come to your effing wedding whether you liked it or not.

  Ian sat down next to me, his face pale and his skin clammy. More so than usual. He looked really tired all of a sudden, very much like he’d been carrying a huge secret around for a long, long time. ‘This wasn’t either of our first marriages, and for both of us the previous ones had ended pretty horribly. So we wanted to be cautious, and we agreed to keep it quiet while we were dating.’

  He rubbed his cheeks and looked at me, searching my face for validation that what he’d done wasn’t crazy. ‘That way if it ended nothing would have to change, nobody would be any the wiser.’ I nodded, trying to show understanding, and he kept trying to justify himself, though I’m not sure it was for my benefit alone. ‘No one at work would give us pitying looks or take sides, or say we shouldn’t be on projects together because it might cause problems, or maybe we shouldn’t both work here at all.’

  ‘I understand that … ’ I soothed. The fudge I did, they were flippin’ married?!

  ‘Then we got engaged, we had a very very quiet and private wedding ceremony, and we just didn’t feel the need to change the set-up.’ He was silent for a long moment, and finally added, with a sigh, ‘We like to be private.’

  ‘You did it on a plane,’ I pointed out.

  ‘That was an exception … Dee’s taking these contraceptives which she says make her extremely horny at the moment—’

  ‘Whoa, urgh, enough. But didn’t you get sick of all the sneaking around?’

  ‘It’s only on work trips that it’s even an issue. Day-to-day we’re a totally normal couple; we just don’t draw attention to it in the workplace. Well, we thought we didn’t. What can I say, I love my wife, and I guess it shows.’

  ‘Oh my god,’ I laughed, shaking my head. ‘You totally love Dee, and she totally loves you, and you’re married – for God’s sake just tell the others and share a goddamn bedroom.’

  ‘All right.’ Ian nodded, taking a deep breath. ‘OK, I will – we will. I’d better just have a chat with Dee first.’

  We went back into the apartment. Jon stood in the kitchen making a round of hot chocolates, talking animatedly about something to do with reindeers. ‘Hey,’ he said, on seeing us. ‘What do you want to drink? Lara doesn’t have any tea – apart from a truly disgusting-sounding herbal thing – so it’s coffee, hot chocolate, or, well that’s it.’

  ‘I’ll pop over to the 7-Eleven in a little while and get us some supplies. But for now a hot chocolate would be great. What are you all talking about?’

  ‘Jon had an idea,’ said Abigail, whose pink eyes were make-up free. She was tired, and worried, but putting on a brave face, and I had a feeling that Jon’s idea might be something he thought would cheer her up.

  ‘What’s your idea?’

  ‘All right. It’s December the twentieth, and what would I be doing if I was at home right now? Probably eating a lot of stuff, Christmas music would be on constantly; I’d be wrapping presents, and pretty much drinking all day. Usual pre-Christmas preparations. So I was thinking, how about this afternoon we go out and do a bit of Christmas shopping, then this evening we could have a mini Christmas party. Just us, but with loads of drinks and nibbles and games, and try and forget the fact that we’re not at home with our families, because being in New York at Christmas is pretty special too.’

  ‘You wouldn’t mind spending an evening in? I thought you were all about making the most of the Big Apple?’

  ‘Are you kidding? We’re in a real New York apartment! We’re about as Big Apple as you get – we’re basically Friends right now, just in the Upper East Side.’

  I looked around at the six of us – Carl, by the window, munching on another big bag of Cheetos, Abigail stirring her hot chocolate and looking through Lara’s bookshelf (which I’d so have to do later), and Dee and Ian, who took the moment of calm to sneak off into one of the bedrooms and have a good talk. I hoped. ‘If we’re like Friends, who’s who?’

  ‘Well, Carl is obviously Joey because he’s a total ladies’ man.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘The two lovebirds are Monica and Chandler.’

  ‘Agreed.’

  ‘Abi would be Phoebe, I guess, because she’s out here learning to make it all by herself, and you know, Phoebe used to be homeless. OK, that one’s a bit tenuous.’

  ‘And us? Gunther and Janice?’ But I knew what he was going to say before he said it.

  ‘Ross and Rachel, of course.’

  Shaking my head, and shaking it off, I turned and started putting things back in their place on the kitchen counter. ‘I don’t think we’re Ross and Rachel.’

  ‘I know you don’t. Consider us season one Ross and Rachel. All right, anyone need a hot chocolate top-up, or are you ready to hit the shops?’

  Season one. When Ross is in love with Rachel, and she doesn’t know it, but he’s always been there.

  Dee and Ian emerged from the bedroom at that moment looking nervous. ‘Can I have your attention please?’ asked Ian.

  ‘Ooo, those pigeons are doing it!’ laughed Carl from the window.

  ‘Has anyone ever read any Jackie Collins?’ asked Abigail. ‘Lara has so many of them; I might give one a try.’

  ‘Yes, do it, they’re great,’ I said.

  ‘Everyone shut up and listen!’ commanded Dee, blushing, and then, chin held high, she took her husband’s hand for all to see. ‘We have something to tell you … ’

  We left the apartment in a gaggle of all six of us, and for a moment I forgot that I wanted to be on my own over the holidays. As we walked down the street, Abigail quizzing Dee and Ian on everything to do with weddings and marriage and Carl listening and contributing nothing, Jon turned to me, blowing on his hands in the cold.

  ‘Are you seeing Elijah today?’

  ‘I asked if he wanted to come by later on for a few drinks. I mean, his travel plans have been ruined as well. Are you OK with that?’

&n
bsp; ‘Sure.’ Jon shrugged. ‘But I get you for a few more hours, yes?’

  ‘Yes.’ I had to admit that I was a tiny bit flattered.

  ‘When we get down to the end of Central Park I need to steal you away.’

  ‘All right,’ I agreed, intrigued.

  And that he did. We stood outside the big glass cube that was the Apple store, and agreed to all split off and meet in a couple of hours back in the same spot. ‘So what do you have planned?’

  Jon gestured across the street. ‘What do you see here?’

  ‘The Plaza hotel.’

  ‘Which is … ?’

  ‘Massive.’

  Jon laughed. ‘True, and also flippin’ expensive. But do you remember what film it was used in?’

  ‘Was it the one Macaulay Culkin stays in in Home Alone 2?’

  ‘It is! I knew you were a secret Christmas nerd.’

  ‘I’m getting there – slowly but surely working my way through those Christmas Classics people go on about watching, year on year. This is cool though. Shall we have a photo in front of it?’

  ‘Even better – let’s go in.’

  We spent a good half an hour wandering between the various floors and walkways and eateries within the hotel before coming to the conclusion that as nice as it was, we’d seen enough of the inside of hotels for this trip and it was time to get back out on the streets of New York to stand under some more fat snowflakes. We strolled down Fifth Avenue like we were strolling down our local village high street.

  Now we were shacked up in an apartment I suddenly felt like I belonged here – this was my home. I liked the idea of being Lara – with her apartment all decorated to her personal taste, that she (presumably) owned, a short walk into an amazing city, full of life. It appealed to me, and made me feel excited and inspired, even though … even though it was a far cry from that big house in the country that was part of my game plan. I think my heart was wanting me to realise I was a city girl.

  ‘Look at this window display.’ I stopped mid-wander and moved closer to the shop we were passing, pressing my fingertips against the glass. Behind was a tiny ornate white wrought iron fence and gate protecting a miniature turquoise Christmas tree. It was like the Sylvanian Families were recreating a scene from The Nutcracker. In front of the Christmas tree was a little sea-glass-blue box the size of a thimble and wrapped in thin white ribbon. ‘Wait … ’ I stepped back and looked up at the façade, reading the words engraved into the wall above the door. ‘We’re at Tiffany’s!’

  I stepped in through the door before Jon could say a word and was met with a rush of warmth, both in temperature and a feeling of golden era welcome. I removed my gloves and gazed around at the twinkling display cabinets and happy tourists (and the occasional actual shopper).

  ‘Good afternoon.’ A lovely man in a turquoise tie and a grey suit greeted us.

  ‘This is Tiffany’s!’ I said by way of reply, and then turned back to Jon. ‘My dad proposed to my mum right here! With this ring.’ I pulled Mum’s ring off my finger and held it out to show him.

  ‘Really? Then we need a photo to send to them. Would you like us to recreate it? I could get down on one knee, and this nice gent could take the photo.’

  ‘No,’ I said quickly, afraid of the implications. But … I would like to send my parents that photo. ‘OK then.’

  We posed for the photo and having Jon kneeling down, holding a ring up to me, all chocolate-eyed, made me a bit light-hearted, and – oops – I nearly said yes.

  ‘Do you know Tiffany’s does a free ring-cleaning service?’ said Jon, fountain of knowledge, when the nice assistant turned away to take an identical photo for some other tourists.

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘My brother only agreed to marry his fiancé once he had a Tiffany ring, and now he waltzes into Tiffany’s in the Royal Exchange every time he comes up to London to claim his little slice of VIP action. You want to have yours cleaned?’

  ‘I don’t know if it really needs it, Mum hasn’t worn it for years.’

  ‘Come on, it’ll be fun, you get a free drink while you wait, apparently.’

  ‘Ooo, do you think they’ll have wine?’

  Jon laughed. ‘Maybe.’

  We stepped into a lift which had a very smart man inside whose whole job appeared to be to take people from floor to floor and be generally very suave. Like those cast members at Disneyland who work on the Hollywood Tower of Terror ride, but without the creepiness.

  On the sixth floor we exited the lift into a long room beautifully laid out with cream and jade velvet lounge chairs, Christmas trees sprinkled with silver and Tiffany-blue decorations, and individual wood-panelled booths that lined the walls. We gave our names to the gracious reception lady who told us to take a seat and someone would be with us as soon as possible, and by the time we’d sunk down into some chairs by the window I’d made up my mind: ‘I’m moving to New York and working at Tiffany’s.’

  ‘Oh OK. Why? That’s quite a departure from what you’re currently doing.’

  ‘That’s exactly why I want to do it, it’s so relaxing here. I want to work in the lift.’

  ‘Good afternoon, sir, madam, can I get you something to drink?’ asked another smart gentleman carrying a silver tray.

  ‘Can I have a red wine, by any chance?’ I asked.

  ‘Certainly, and for you, sir?’

  ‘A coffee would be great,’ said Jon.

  ‘Of course, regular or vanilla?’

  ‘Yum, vanilla please.’

  Mmm, that sounded nice. ‘Excuse me, can I have one of those too, please?’

  ‘Instead of the wine?’

  ‘No, as well as, please.’

  Shortly after receiving our drinks, we were taken to one of the booths, where a woman shook our hands and begged us to sit down. ‘Good afternoon, Ms Forest, and sir, my name is Calinda, I understand you’re here to have your jewellery cleaned today with our complimentary service?’

  ‘I have a Tiffany engagement ring,’ I said proudly, holding out my mum’s ring.

  ‘Congratulations,’ said Calinda, with a pleasant, genuine smile. ‘To both of you.’

  Jon and I locked eyes. I opened my mouth to correct her but Jon beat me to it with a bold, ‘Thank you!’

  ‘What a beautiful ring. Have you guys had the wedding yet?’ smiled Calinda.

  ‘No,’ said Jon, taking my hand and holding it in his, like it was the most natural thing in the world. ‘We can’t quite decide on the theme, can we, sugarlips?’

  ‘Um … ’

  ‘What’s on the shortlist?’ asked Calinda, studying my ring through a mini eyeglass.

  ‘Well,’ Jon launched into it and I just stared at him, taking in his words in amazement, ‘I think what we should do is have the ceremony in England sometime in the autumn, because autumn light is always beautiful and don’t you agree she’d look beautiful in it? Now, Olivia is really into books, and there’s a place called Dartmoor, it’s a national park, very rugged and windswept and hilly, in the south-west of England, and on top of one of the hills there’s a tiny little stone church, and when I look at it I just think of her up there, all white-dress-billowing-in-the-wind, and imagine it to be very Heathcliffy or Poldarky or something. I’m not as well read as my fiancée, but I think it’s up her street.’

  ‘It sounds perfect,’ I said, and in that moment I would have married him – it was just me and him by that church in the autumn light. Wow, Audrey Hepburn was right, there really is just something about Tiffany’s. I moved an inch closer to Jon.

  ‘That sounds like your answer,’ smiled Calinda, and she popped my ring into a grey, felt-lined box and handed it to her assistant, who took it away for cleaning.

  ‘And then,’ he continued, ‘the honeymoon. She likes cities, but she likes having some peace and quiet, so I’m thinking somewhere like Hawaii, because that’s a good mix, isn’t it? And I don’t think she’s been there.’ He looked at me and I shook my head.
‘So maybe she could find some new books to read, about there, as well.’ He sat back, satisfied.

  ‘Wow,’ said Calinda, turning to me. ‘If you change your mind, honey, I’ll marry him for you. So what’s your idea?’

  How did he come up with all of that on the spot? I wracked my brain and then blurted out the first thing that came to me. ‘Family is really important to Jon, and he has a lot of them, so I think a wedding and reception at his parents’ house in Cornwall would be nice. Or perhaps down on the beach. In the snow. But it doesn’t snow often in England, I suppose – now is an exception. And all his nieces and nephews, and my sisters, could be part of the wedding party, and – no work colleagues?’

  Jon laughed. ‘No work colleagues. Except for Kim, and maybe Carl.’

  ‘Absolutely. Kim would be my bridesmaid, along with my two sisters. But Kim would be my favourite one. OK, deal.’

  ‘Where do you think we should honeymoon?’ he asked, an amused smile playing on his lips, his arms folded in front of him.

  ‘I’m really enjoying New York, actually. So maybe here.’

  ‘You are?’

  ‘Yep. It’s very … Christmassy.’

  ‘Oh my god, you two are so in love it’s going to make me cry,’ shone Calinda, handing back my ring, which sparkled brighter than the star atop the Rockefeller Christmas tree. ‘Congratulations again, and if you do end up honeymooning in New York, be sure to come in and say hello.’

  ‘We will,’ I said, standing up and admiring my mum’s ring on my hand. ‘Thank you. Come on, darling.’

  We rode in the elevator in silence, Jon smothering his laughter, and as soon as we were out on the street I thwacked him one with my sparkling new hand. ‘You are such a—’

  ‘Now now, don’t be upset just because my idea for our wedding and honeymoon was way better. Come on, let’s meet the others, get a shit-load of food and drink, and go back and play Monopoly for a few hours like a proper family at Christmastime.’

  ‘I have never seen such brazen disregard for the rules in my life. You are the biggest bank robber since Butch Cassidy, Olivia Forest!’