فصل 14

14

We slept until after ten, then walked downtown to the diner near Columbus Circle. We ate until our stomachs hurt, drank gallons of stewed coffee and sat opposite each other with our knees entwined.

‘Glad you came over?’ I said, like I didn’t know the answer.

He reached out a hand and placed it gently behind my neck, leaning forward across the table until he could kiss me, oblivious to the other diners, until I had all the answer I needed. Around us sat middle-aged couples with weekend newspapers, groups of outlandishly dressed nightclubbers who hadn’t been to bed yet, talking over each other, exhausted couples with cranky children.

Sam sat back in his chair and let out a long sigh. ‘My sister always wanted to come here, you know. Seems stupid that she never did.’

‘Really?’ I reached for his hand and he turned his palm upwards to take mine, then closed his fingers over it.

‘Yeah. She had this whole list of things she wanted to do, like go to a baseball game. The Kicks? The Knicks? Some team she wanted to see. And eat in a New York diner. And most of all she wanted to go to the top of the Rockefeller Center.’

‘Not the Empire State?’

‘Nah. She said the Rockefeller was meant to be better – some glass observatory thing you could look through. Apparently you can see the Statue of Liberty from there.’

I squeezed his hand. ‘We could go today.’

‘We could,’ he said. ‘Makes you think, though, doesn’t it?’ He reached for his coffee. ‘You have to take your chances when you can.’

A vague melancholy settled over him. I didn’t attempt to shake it. I knew better than anyone how sometimes you just needed to be allowed to feel sad. I waited a moment, then said, ‘I feel that every day.’

He turned back to me.

‘I’m going to say a Will Traynor thing now.’ I said it like a warning.

‘Okay.’

‘There’s almost not a day that I’m here when I don’t think he’d be proud of me.’

I felt the tiniest bit anxious as I said it, conscious of how I had tested Sam in the early days of our relationship by going on and on about Will, about what he had meant to me, about the Will-shaped hole he had left behind. But he just nodded. ‘I think he would too.’ He stroked his thumb down my finger. ‘I know I am. Proud of you. I mean, I miss you like hell. But, jeez, you’re amazing, Lou. You’ve come to a city you didn’t know and you’ve made this job, with its millionaires and billionaires, work for you, and you’ve made friends, and you’ve created this whole thing for yourself. People live their whole lives without doing one tenth of that.’ He gestured around him.

‘You could do it too.’ It just fell out of my mouth. ‘I looked it up. The New York authorities always need good paramedics. But I’m sure we could get round that.’ I said it jokingly but as soon as the words were out I realized how badly I wanted it to happen. I leant forward over the table. ‘Sam. We could rent a little apartment out in Queens or somewhere and then we could be together every night, depending on who was working what insane hours, and we could do this every Sunday morning. We could be together. How amazing would that be?’

You only get one life. I heard the words ringing in my ears. Say yes, I told him silently. Just say yes.

He reached across for my hand. Then he sighed. ‘I can’t, Lou. My house isn’t built. Even if I decided to rent it out, I’d have to finish it. And I can’t leave Jake just yet. He needs to know I’m still around. Just a bit longer.’

I forced my face into a smile, the kind of smile that said I hadn’t taken it at all seriously. ‘Sure! It was just a stupid idea.’

He pressed his lips against my palm. ‘Not stupid. Just impossible right now.’

We decided by unspoken agreement not to mention potentially difficult subjects again, and that killed a surprising number – his work, his home life, our future – and we walked the High Line, then peeled off to go to the Vintage Clothes Emporium where I greeted Lydia like an old friend and dressed up in a 1970s pink sequined jumpsuit, then a 1950s fur coat and a sailor cap and made Sam laugh.

‘Now this,’ he said, as I came out of the changing room in a pink and yellow nylon psychedelic shift dress, ‘is the Louisa Clark I know and love.’

‘Did she show you the blue cocktail dress yet? The one with the sleeves?’

‘I can’t decide between this and the fur.’

‘Sweetheart,’ said Lydia, lighting a Sobranie, ‘you can’t wear fur on Fifth Avenue. People won’t realize you’re doing it ironically.’

When I finally left the changing room, Sam was standing at the counter. He held out a package.

‘It’s the sixties dress,’ Lydia said helpfully.

‘You bought it for me?’ I took it from him. ‘Really? You didn’t think it was too loud?’

‘It’s totally insane,’ Sam said, straight-faced. ‘But you looked so happy wearing it … so …’

‘Oh, my, he’s a keeper,’ whispered Lydia, as we headed out, her cigarette wedged into the corner of her mouth. ‘Also, next time get him to buy you the jumpsuit. You looked like a total boss.’

We went back to the apartment for a couple of hours and napped, fully dressed and wrapped around each other chastely, overloaded with carbohydrates. At four we rose groggily and agreed we should head out and do our last excursion, as Sam had to catch the eight a.m. flight from JFK the following day. While he packed up his few things I went to make tea in the kitchen where I found Nathan mixing some kind of protein shake. He grinned. ‘I hear your man is here.’

‘Is absolutely nothing private in this corridor?’ I filled the kettle and flicked the switch.

‘Not when the walls are this thin, mate, no,’ he said. ‘I’m kidding!’ he said, as I flushed to my hairline. ‘Didn’t hear a thing. Nice to know from the colour of your face that you had a good night, though!’

I was about to hit him when Sam appeared at the door. Nathan stopped in front of him, reached out a hand. ‘Ah. The famous Sam. Nice to finally meet you, mate.’

‘And you.’

I waited anxiously to see if they were going to get all alpha male with each other. But Nathan was naturally too laid back and Sam was still sweetened from twenty-four hours of food and sex. They just shook hands, grinned at each other and exchanged pleasantries.

‘Are you guys going out tonight?’ Nathan swigged at his drink as I handed Sam a mug of tea.

‘We thought we might head up to the top of 30 Rockefeller. It’s kind of a mission.’

‘Aw, mates. You don’t want to be standing in tourist queues on your last night. Come to the Holiday Cocktail Lounge over in the East Village. I’m meeting my mates there – Lou, you met the guys last time we headed out. They’re doing some promo there tonight. It’s always a good buzz.’

I looked over at Sam. He shrugged. We could pop by for a half-hour, I said. Then maybe we could go up to Top of the Rock by ourselves. It was open till eleven fifteen.

Three hours later we were wedged around a cluttered table, my brain spinning gently from the cocktails that had landed, one after another, on its surface. I had worn my psychedelic shift dress because I wanted to show Sam how much I loved it. He, meanwhile, in the way that men who love the company of other men do, had bonded with Nathan and his friends. They were loudly running down each other’s musical choices and comparing gig horror stories from their youth.

With one part of my being I smiled and joined in the conversation and with the other I made mental calculations as to how often I could contribute financially so that Sam could come here twice as much as we had originally planned. Surely he could see how good this was. How good we were together.

Sam got up to buy the next round. ‘I’ll get a couple of menus,’ he mouthed. I nodded. I knew I should probably eat something if only so I didn’t disgrace myself later on.

And then I felt a hand on my shoulder.

‘You really are stalking me!’ Josh beamed down at me, white teeth in a wide smile. I stood abruptly, flushing. I turned, but Sam was at the bar, his back to us. ‘Josh! Hi!’

‘You know this is pretty much my other favourite bar, right?’ He was wearing a soft, striped blue shirt, the sleeves rolled up.

‘I didn’t!’ My voice was too high, my speech too fast.

‘I believe you. You want a drink? They do an Old-Fashioned that is something else.’ He reached out and touched my elbow.

I sprang back as if he’d burnt me. ‘Yes, I know. And no. Thank you. I’m here with friends and …’ I turned just in time for Sam to arrive back, holding a tray of drinks, a couple of menus under his arm.

‘Hey,’ he said, and glanced at Josh, before he placed the tray on the table. Then he straightened up slowly and really looked at him.

I stood, my hands stiff by my side. ‘Josh, this is Sam, my – my boyfriend. Sam, this is – this is Josh.’

Sam was staring at Josh, as if he was trying to take something in. ‘Yeah,’ Sam said finally. ‘I think I could have worked that out.’ He looked at me, then back at Josh.

‘Do – do you guys want a drink? I mean, I can see you’ve got some but I’d be glad to line up some more.’ Josh gestured towards the bar.

‘No. Thanks, mate,’ said Sam, who had remained standing so that he was a good half-head taller than Josh. ‘I think we’re good here.’

There was an awkward silence.

‘Okay then.’ Josh looked at me, and nodded. ‘Great to meet you, Sam. You here for long?’

‘Long enough.’ Sam’s smile didn’t stretch as far as his eyes. I had never seen him quite so prickly.

‘Well, then … I’ll leave you guys to it. Louisa – I’ll see you around. Have a great evening.’ He held up his palms, a pacifying gesture. I opened my mouth but there was nothing to say that sounded right, so I waved, a weird, fluttering gesture with my fingers.

Sam sat down heavily. I glanced across the table at Nathan, whose face was a study in neutrality. The other guys didn’t appear to have noticed anything and were still talking about ticket prices at their last gig. Sam was briefly lost in thought. He finally looked up. I reached for his hand but he didn’t squeeze mine back.

The mood didn’t recover. The bar was too noisy for me to talk to him, and I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say. I sipped my cocktail and ran through a hundred looping arguments in my head. Sam swigged his drink and nodded and smiled at the guys’ jokes, but I saw the tic in his jaw and knew his heart was no longer in it. At ten we peeled off and got a taxi towards home.

I let him hail it.

We went up in the service lift, as instructed, and listened before we crept into my room. Mr Gopnik appeared to be in bed. Sam didn’t speak. He went into the bathroom to change and closed the door behind him, his back rigid. I heard him brush his teeth and gargle as I crept into bed, feeling wrong-footed and angry at the same time. He seemed to be in there for ever. Finally, he opened the door and stood there in his boxers. His scars still ran livid red across his stomach. ‘I’m being a dick.’

‘Yes. Yes, you are.’

He let out a huge breath. He looked at my photograph of Will, nestled between the one of himself and the one of my sister with Thom, whose finger was up his nose. ‘Sorry. It just threw me. How much he looks like …’

‘I know. But you might as well say you spending time with my sister and her looking like me is weird.’

‘Except she doesn’t look like you.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘… what?’

‘I’m waiting for you to say I’m miles better-looking.’

‘You are miles better-looking.’

I pushed the covers back to let him in and he climbed in beside me.

‘You’re much better-looking than your sister. Heaps better. You’re basically a supermodel.’ He placed a hand on my hip. It was warm and heavy. ‘But with shorter legs. How’s that working for you?’

I tried not to smile. ‘Better. But quite rude about my short legs.’

‘They’re beautiful legs. My favourite legs. Supermodel legs are just – boring.’ He moved across so that he was over me. Every time he did that it was like bits of me sparked into involuntary life and I had to work hard not to wriggle. He rested on his elbows, pinning me in place and looking down at my face, which I was trying to make stern even though my heart was thumping.

‘I think you may have frightened the life out of that poor man,’ I said. ‘You looked like you slightly wanted to hit him.’

‘That’s because I slightly did.’

‘You are an idiot, Sam Fielding.’ I reached up and kissed him, and when he kissed me back he was smiling again. His chin was thick with stubble where he hadn’t bothered to shave.

This time he was tender. Partly because we now believed the walls were thin and he wasn’t really meant to be there. But I think we were both careful of each other after the unexpected events of the evening. Every time he touched me it was with a kind of reverence. He told me he loved me, his voice low and soft, and he looked straight into my eyes when he said it. The words reverberated through me like little earthquakes.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you too.

We had set the alarm for a quarter to five, and I woke cursing, dragged from sleep by the shrill sound. Beside me Sam groaned and pulled a pillow over his head. I had to push him awake.

I propelled him, grumbling, into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and padded to the kitchen to make us both coffee. When I came back I heard the thunk of the water being turned off. I sat on the side of the bed, sipped my coffee and wondered whose smart idea it had been to drink strong cocktails on a Sunday evening. The bathroom door opened just as I flopped back down.

‘Can I blame you for the cocktails? I need someone to blame.’ My head was thumping. I raised and lowered it gently. ‘What even was in those things?’ I placed my fingertips against my temples. ‘They must have been double measures. I don’t normally feel this grim. Oh, man. We should have just gone to 30 Rock.’

He didn’t say anything. I turned my head so that I could see him. He was standing in the doorway of the bathroom. ‘You want to talk to me about this?’

‘About what?’ I pushed myself upright. He was wearing a towel around his waist and holding a small white rectangular box. For a brief moment I thought he was trying to give me jewellery, and I almost laughed. But when he held the box towards me he wasn’t smiling.

I took it from him. And stared, disbelieving, at a pregnancy test. The box was opened, and the white plastic wand was loose inside. I checked it, some distant part of me noting that there were no blue lines, then looked up at him, temporarily lost for words.

He sat down heavily on the side of the bed. ‘We used a condom, right? The last time I was over. We used a condom.’

‘Wha– where did you find that?’

‘In your bin. I just went to put my razor in there.’

‘It’s not mine, Sam.’

‘You share this room with someone else?’

‘No.’

‘Then how can you not know whose it is?’

‘I don’t know! But – but it’s not mine! I haven’t had sex with anyone else!’ I realized as I was protesting that the mere act of insisting you hadn’t had sex with someone else made you sound like you were trying to hide the fact that you had had sex with someone else. ‘I know how it looks but I have no idea why that thing is in my bathroom!’

‘Is this why you’re always on at me about Katie? Because you’re actually feeling guilty about seeing someone else? What is it they call it? Transference? Is – is that why you were so … so different the other night?’

The air disappeared from the room. I felt as if I’d been slapped. I stared at him. ‘You really think that? After everything we’ve been through?’

He didn’t say anything.

‘You – you really think I’d cheat on you?’

He was pale, as shocked as I felt. ‘I just think if it looks like a duck and it quacks like a duck then, you know … it’s usually a duck.’

‘I am not a bloody duck … Sam. Sam.’

He turned his head reluctantly.

‘I wouldn’t cheat on you. It’s not mine. You have to believe me.’

His eyes scanned my face.

‘I don’t know how many times I can say it. It’s not mine.’

‘We’ve been together such a short time. And so much of it has been spent apart. I don’t …’

‘You don’t what?’

‘It’s one of those situations, you know? If you told your mates in the pub? They’d give you that look like – mate …’

‘Then don’t talk to your bloody mates in the pub! Listen to me!’

‘I want to, Lou!’

‘Then what the hell is your problem?’

‘He looked just like Will Traynor!’ It burst out of him like it had nowhere else to go. He sat down. He put his head in his hands. And then he said it again, quietly. ‘He looked just like Will Traynor.’

My eyes had filled with tears. I wiped them away with the heel of my hand, knowing that I had probably now smudged yesterday’s mascara all over my cheeks but not really caring. When I spoke my voice was low and severe and didn’t really sound like mine.

‘I’m going to say this one more time. I am not sleeping with anyone else. If you don’t believe me I … Well, I don’t know what you’re doing here.’

He didn’t reply but I felt as if his answer floated silently between us: Neither do I. He stood and walked over to his bag. He pulled some pants from inside and put them on, yanking them up with short, angry movements. ‘I have to go.’

I couldn’t say anything else. I sat on the bed and watched him, feeling simultaneously bereft and furious. I said nothing while he dressed and threw the rest of his belongings into his bag. Then he slung it over his shoulder, walked to the door and turned.

‘Safe trip,’ I said. I couldn’t smile.

‘I’ll call you when I’m home.’

‘Okay.’

He stooped and kissed my cheek. I didn’t look up when he opened the door. He stood there a moment longer and then he left, closing it silently behind him.

Agnes came home at midday. Garry picked her up from the airport and she arrived back oddly subdued, as if she were reluctant to be there. She greeted me from behind sunglasses with a cursory hello, and retreated to her dressing room, where she stayed with the door locked for the next four hours. At teatime she emerged, showered and dressed, and forced a smile when I entered her study bearing the completed mood boards. I talked her through the colours and fabrics, and she nodded distractedly, but I could tell she hadn’t really registered what I had done. I let her drink her tea, then waited until I knew Ilaria had gone downstairs. I closed the study door so that she glanced up at me.

‘Agnes,’ I said quietly. ‘This is a slightly odd question, but did you put a pregnancy test in my bathroom?’

She blinked at me over her teacup. And then she put her cup down on its saucer and pulled a face. ‘Oh. That. Yes, I was going to tell you.’

I felt anger rise up in me like bile. ‘You were going to tell me? You know my boyfriend found it?’

‘Your boyfriend came for the weekend? That’s so nice! Did you have lovely time?’

‘Right up until he found a used pregnancy test in my bathroom.’

‘But you tell him it’s not yours, yes?’

‘I did, Agnes. But, funnily enough, men tend to get a little shirty when they find pregnancy tests in their girlfriends’ bathrooms. Especially girlfriends who live three thousand miles away.’

She waved her hand, as if shooing my concerns away. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake. If he trusts you he will be fine. You are not cheating on him. He should not be so stupid.’

‘But why? Why would you put a pregnancy test in my bathroom?’

She stopped. She glanced around me, as if to check that the study door really was closed. And suddenly her expression grew serious. ‘Because if I had left it in my bathroom Ilaria would have found it,’ she said flatly. ‘And I cannot have Ilaria seeing this thing.’ She lifted her hands as if I were being spectacularly dim. ‘Leonard was very clear when we marry. No children. This was our deal.’

‘Really? But that’s not … What if you decide you want them?’

She pursed her lips. ‘I won’t.’

‘But – but you’re my age. How can you know for sure? I can’t tell most days if I’m going to want to stick with the same brand of hair conditioner. Lots of people change their mind when –’

‘I am not having children with Leonard,’ she snapped. ‘Okay? Enough with the talk of children.’

I stood, a little reluctantly, and her head whipped around, her expression fierce. ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry if I caused you trouble.’ She pushed at her brow with the heel of her palm. ‘Okay? I’m sorry. Now I am going for a run. On my own.’

Ilaria was in the kitchen when I walked in a few moments later. She was pushing a huge lump of dough around a mixing bowl with fierce, even strokes and she didn’t look up.

‘You think she is your friend.’

I stopped, my mug halfway to the coffee machine.

She pushed the dough with particular force. ‘The puta would sell you down the river if it meant she saved herself.’

‘Not helpful, Ilaria,’ I said. It was perhaps the first time I had ever answered her back. I filled my mug and walked to the door. ‘And, believe it or not, you don’t know everything.’

I heard her snort from halfway down the hall.

I headed down to Ashok’s desk to pick up Agnes’s dry-cleaning, stopping to chat for a few moments to try to push aside my dark mood. Ashok was always even, always upbeat. Talking with him was like having a window on a lighter world. When I arrived back at the apartment there was a small, slightly wrinkled plastic bag propped up outside the front door. I stooped to pick it up and found, to my surprise, that it was addressed to me. Or at least to ‘Louisa I think her name is’.

I opened it in my room. Inside, wrapped in recycled tissue paper, was a vintage Biba scarf, decorated with a print of peacock feathers. I opened it out and draped it around my neck, admiring the subtle sheen of the fabric, the way it shimmered even in the dim light. It smelt of cloves and old perfume. Then I reached into the bag and pulled out a small card. The name at the top read, in looping dark blue print: Margot De Witt. Underneath, in a shaky scrawl, was written: Thank you for saving my dog.