فصل 21

21

In the end, I met Josh at a dive bar he knew off Times Square. It was long and narrow, covered with photographs of boxers, and the floor was tacky underfoot. I wore black jeans and scraped my hair into a ponytail. Nobody looked up as I squeezed my way past the middle-aged men and autographed pictures of flyweights and men whose necks were wider than their heads.

He was seated at a tiny table at the end of the bar in a waxed dark brown jacket – the kind you buy to look like you belong in the countryside. When he saw me, his smile was sudden and infectious and made me briefly glad that someone uncomplicated was pleased to see me in a world that felt impossibly messy.

‘How you doing?’ He stood and looked like he wanted to step forward and hug me but something – perhaps the circumstances of our last meeting – prevented him. He touched my arm instead.

‘I’ve had a bit of a day. A bit of a week, actually. And I really need a friendly face to have a drink or two with. And – guess what – yours was the first name I pulled out of my New York hat!’

‘What do you want? Bear in mind they do about six drinks here.’

‘Vodka tonic?’

‘I’m pretty sure that’s one of them.’

He was back within minutes with a bottled beer for himself and a vodka tonic for me. I had shed my coat and was oddly nervous to be opposite him.

‘So … this week of yours. What happened?’

I took a sip of my drink. It sat too comfortably on top of the one I’d had that afternoon. ‘I … I found out something today. It’s kind of knocked me sideways. I can’t tell you what it is, not because I don’t trust you but because it’s so big that it would affect all sorts of people. And I don’t know what to do about it.’ I shifted in my seat. ‘I think I just need to kind of swallow it and learn how not to let it give me indigestion. Does that make sense? So I was hoping I could see you and have a couple of drinks and hear a bit about your life – a nice life without big dark secrets, assuming you don’t have any big dark secrets – and remind myself that life can be normal and good, but I really don’t want you to try and get me to talk about mine. Like if I happen to drop my defences and stuff.’

He put his hand on his heart. ‘Louisa, I do not want to know about your thing. I’m just happy to see you.’

‘I honestly would tell you if I could.’

‘I have no curiosity about this gigantic, life-altering secret whatsoever. You’re safe with me.’ He took a swig of his drink and smiled his perfect smile at me, and for the first time in two weeks I felt a tiny bit less lonely.

Two hours later the bar was overheated and three-deep, exhausted tourists, marvelling at three-dollar beers, and regulars rammed along its narrow length, the vast majority focused on a boxing match on the TV in the corner. They cried out in unison at a swift uppercut, and roared as one when their man, his face pulped and misshapen, went down against the ropes. Josh was the only man in the whole place not watching it, leaning quietly over his bottle of beer, his eyes on mine.

I, in turn, was slumped over the table and telling him at length the story of Treena and Edwina on Christmas Day, one of the few stories I could legitimately share, along with that of Granddad’s stroke, the story of the grand piano (I said it was for Agnes’s niece) and – in case I sounded too gloomy – my lovely upgrade from New York to London. I don’t know how many vodkas I’d had by then – Josh tended to magic them in front of me before I’d realized I was done with the last one – but some distant part of me was aware that my voice had acquired a weird, sing-song quality, sliding up and down not always in accordance with what I was saying.

‘Well, that’s cool, right?’ he said, when I reached Dad’s speech about happiness. I may have made it a little more Lifetime movie than it had been. In my latest version Dad had become Atticus Finch delivering his closing speech to the courtroom in To Kill a Mockingbird.

‘It’s all good,’ Josh went on. ‘He just wants her to be happy. When my cousin Tim came out to my uncle he didn’t speak to him for, like, a year.’

‘They’re so happy,’ I said, stretching my arms across the table just so I could feel the cool bits on my skin, trying to not mind that it was sticky. ‘It’s great. It really is.’ I took another sip of my drink. ‘It’s like you look at them both together and you’re so glad because, you know, Treena’s been on her own for a million years but honestly … it would be really nice if they could just be a teeny tiny bit less glowy and radiant around each other. Like not always gazing into each other’s eyes. Or doing that secret smile which is all about the private shared jokes. Or the one that means they just had really, really great sex. And maybe Treena could just stop sending me pictures of the two of them together. Or text messages about every amazing thing that Eddie says or does. Which apparently is pretty much anything she says or does.’

‘Ah, c’mon. They’re newly in love, right? People do that stuff.’

‘I never did. Did you do that stuff? Seriously, I have never sent anyone pictures of me kissing someone. If I’d sent a picture of me snuggling with a boyfriend to Treena she would have reacted like I’d sent her a dick pic. I mean, this is the woman who found all displays of emotion disgusting.’

‘Then it’s the first time she’s been in love. And she’ll be delighted to get the next picture you send her of you being nauseatingly happy with your boyfriend.’ He looked like he was laughing at me. ‘Maybe not the dick pic.’

‘You think I’m a terrible person.’

‘I don’t think you’re a terrible person. Just a fairly … refreshed one.’

I groaned. ‘I know. I’m a terrible person. I’m not asking them not to be happy, just to be a teeny bit sensitive to those of us who might not be … just at this …’ I’d run out of words.

Josh had settled back in his chair and was now watching me.

‘Ex-boyfriend,’ I said, my voice slurring slightly. ‘He’s now an ex-boyfriend.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Woah. Quite the couple of weeks, then.’

‘Oh, man.’ I rested my forehead on the table. ‘You have no idea.’

I was conscious of a silence falling gently between us. I wondered briefly if I might just take a little power nap right there. It felt so nice. The sounds of the boxing match briefly receded. My forehead was only a little bit wet. And then I felt his hand on mine. ‘Okay, Louisa. I think it’s time we got you out of here.’

I said goodbye to all the nice people on my way out, high-fiving as many as I could (some seemed to miss my hand – idiots). For some reason, Josh kept apologizing out loud. I think maybe he was bumping into them as we walked. He put my jacket on me when we got to the door and I got the giggles because he couldn’t get my arms into my sleeves, and when he did, it was the wrong way round, like a straitjacket. ‘I give up,’ he said eventually. ‘Just wear it like that.’ I heard someone shout, ‘Take a little water with it, lady.’

‘I am a lady!’ I exclaimed. ‘An English lady! I am Louisa Clark the First, aren’t I, Joshua?’ I turned to face them and air-punched. I was leaning against the wall of photographs and brought a few clattering down on top of me.

‘We’re going, we’re going,’ Josh said, raising his hands towards the barman. Someone started shouting. He was still apologizing to everyone. I told him it wasn’t good to apologize – Will had taught me that. You had to hold your head up.

And suddenly we were out in the brisk cold air. Then, before I knew it, I tripped on something and suddenly I was on the icy pavement, my knees smacking onto the hard concrete. I swore.

‘Oh, boy,’ said Josh, who had his arm firmly round my waist and was hauling me upright. ‘I think we need to get you some coffee.’

He smelt so nice. He smelt like Will had – expensive, like the men’s section of a posh department store. I put my nose against his neck and inhaled as we staggered along the pavement. ‘You smell lovely.’

‘Thank you very much.’

‘Very expensive.’

‘Good to know.’

‘I might lick you.’

‘If it makes you feel better.’

I licked him. His aftershave didn’t taste as nice as it smelt but it was kind of nice to lick someone. ‘It does make me feel better,’ I said, with some surprise. ‘It really does!’

‘Oooh-kay. Here’s the best spot to get a cab.’ He manoeuvred himself so that he was facing me and put his hands on my shoulders. Around us Times Square was blinding and dizzying, a glittering neon circus, its leviathan images looming down at me with impossible brightness. I turned slowly, gazing up at the lights and feeling like I might fall over. I went round and round while they blurred, then staggered slightly. I felt Josh catch me.

‘I can put you in a cab home, because I think you might need to sleep this off. Or we can walk to mine and get some coffee down you. Your choice.’ It was after one in the morning yet he had to shout to be heard over the noise of the people around us. He was so handsome in his shirt and jacket. So clean cut and crisp-looking. I liked him so much. I turned in his arms and blinked at him. It would have been helpful if he’d stopped swaying.

‘That’s very kind of you,’ he said.

‘Did I say all that out loud?’

‘Yup.’

‘Sorry. But you really are. Terrifically handsome. Like American handsome. Like an actual movie star. Josh?’

‘Yeah?’

‘I think I might sit down. My head has gone kind of fuzzy.’ I was halfway to the ground when I felt him sweep me up again.

‘And there we go.’

‘I really want to tell you the thing. But I can’t tell you the thing.’

‘Then don’t tell me the thing.’

‘You’d understand. I know you would. You know … you look so like someone I loved. Really loved. Did you know that? You look just so like him.’

‘That’s … nice to know.’

‘It is nice. He was terrifically handsome. Just like you. Movie-star handsome … Did I say that already? He died. Did I tell you he died?’

‘I’m sorry for your loss. But I think we need to get you out of here.’ He walked me down two blocks, hailed a cab and, with some effort, helped me in. I fought my way upright on the back seat and held onto his sleeve. He was half in, half out of the taxi door.

‘Where to, lady?’ The driver looked behind him.

I looked at Josh. ‘Can you stay with me?’

‘Sure. Where are we going?’

I saw the wary glance of the driver in his rear-view mirror. A television blared from the back of his seat and a television studio audience burst into applause. Outside, everyone started to honk their horns at once. The lights were too bright. New York was suddenly too loud, too everything. ‘I don’t know. Your house,’ I said. ‘I can’t go back. Not yet.’ I looked at him and felt suddenly tearful. ‘Do you know I have two legs in two places?’

He tilted his head towards me. His face was kind. ‘Somehow, Louisa Clark, that doesn’t surprise me.’

I let my head rest on his shoulder and felt his arm slide gently around me.

I woke to the sound of a phone ringing, shrill and insistent. The blessed relief of it stopping, then a man’s voice murmuring. The welcome bitter smell of coffee. I shifted, trying to lift my head from the pillow. The resulting pain through my temples was so intense and unforgiving that I let out a little animal sound, like a dog whose tail had just been trapped in a door. I closed my eyes, took a breath, then opened them again.

This was not my bed.

It was still not my bed when I opened them a third time.

This indisputable fact was enough to prompt me to attempt to lift my head again, this time ignoring the thumping pain long enough to focus. Nope, this was definitely not my bed. This was also not my bedroom. In fact, it was no bedroom I had ever seen before. I took in the clothes – men’s clothes – folded neatly over the back of a chair, the television in the corner, the desk and the wardrobe, and became aware of the voice growing nearer. And then the door opened and Josh walked in, fully suited, holding a mug with one hand, his phone pressed to his ear with the other. He caught my eye, raised an eyebrow, and placed the mug on the bedside table, still talking.

‘Yeah, there’s been a problem with the subway. I’m going to grab a cab and I’ll be there in twenty … Sure. No problem … No, she’s on that already.’

I pushed myself upright, discovering as I did so that I was in a man’s T-shirt. The ramifications of this took a couple of minutes to seep in, and I felt the blush start from somewhere around my chest.

‘No, we already talked about that yesterday. He’s got all the paperwork ready to go.’

He turned away, and I wriggled back down, so that the duvet was around my neck. I was wearing knickers. That was something.

‘Yeah. It’ll be great. Yup – lunch sounds good.’ Josh rang off and shoved his phone into his pocket. ‘Good morning! I was just going to get you a side order of Advil. Want me to find you a couple? I’m afraid I have to go.’

‘Go?’ My mouth tasted rank, as dry as if it had been lightly powdered. I opened and closed it a couple of times, noting it made a faintly disgusting smacking sound.

‘To work. It’s Friday?’

‘Oh, God. What time is it?’

‘A quarter of seven. I have to shoot. Already running late. Will you be okay letting yourself out?’ He rummaged in a drawer and withdrew a blister pack, which he placed beside me. ‘There. That should help.’

I pushed my hair back from my face. It was slightly damp with sweat and astonishingly matted. ‘What – what happened?’

‘We can talk about it later. Drink your coffee.’

I took a sip obediently. It was strong and restorative. I suspected I would need another six. ‘Why am I in your T-shirt?’

He grinned. ‘That would be the dance.’

‘The dance?’ My stomach lurched.

He stooped and kissed my cheek. He smelt of soap and cleanliness and citrus and all things wholesome. I was aware that I was giving off hot waves of stale sweat and alcohol and shame. ‘It was a fun night. Hey – just make sure you give the door a really good slam when you leave, okay? Sometimes it doesn’t catch properly. I’ll call you later.’

He saluted from the doorway, turned and was gone, patting his pockets as if to reassure himself of something as he left.

‘Hold on – where am I?’ I yelled, a minute later, but he was already gone.

I was in SoHo, it turned out. One giant angry traffic jam away from where I was meant to be. I caught the subway from Spring Street to 59th Street, trying not to sweat gently into yesterday’s crumpled shirt and grateful for the small mercy that I was not in my usual glittery evening clothes. I had never really understood the term ‘grubby’ until that morning. I could remember almost nothing from the previous evening. And what I did remember came to me in unpleasant hot flashbacks.

Me sitting down in the middle of Times Square.

Me licking Josh’s neck. I had actually licked his neck.

What was that about dancing?

If I hadn’t been hanging onto the subway pole for dear life, I would have held my head in my hands. Instead I closed my eyes, lurched my way through the stations, shifted to avoid the backpacks and the grumpy commuters locked into their earphones, and tried not to throw up.

Just get through today, I told myself. If life had taught me one thing, it was that the answers would come soon enough.

I was just opening the door to my room when Mr Gopnik appeared. He was still dressed in his workout gear – unusual for him after seven – and lifted a hand when he saw me, as if he had been trying to locate me for some time. ‘Ah. Louisa.’

‘I’m sorry I –’

‘I’d like to talk to you in my study. Now.’

Of course you would, I thought. Of course. He turned and walked back up the corridor. I cast an anguished look at my room, which held my clean clothes, deodorant and toothpaste. I thought longingly about a second coffee. But Mr Gopnik was not the kind of man you kept waiting.

I glanced down at my phone, then jogged after him.

I walked into the study to find him already seated. ‘I’m really sorry I was ten minutes late. I’m not normally late. I just had to …’

Mr Gopnik was behind his desk, his expression unreadable. Agnes was on the upholstered chair by the coffee table in her workout gear. Neither of them asked me to sit down. Something in the atmosphere made me feel suddenly horribly sober.

‘Is … is everything okay?’

‘I’m hoping you can tell me. I had a call from my personal account manager this morning.’

‘Your what?’

‘The man who handles my banking operations. I wondered if you could explain this.’

He pushed a piece of paper towards me. It was a bank statement, with the totals blacked out. My eyesight was a little blurry but just one thing was visible, a trail of figures, five hundred dollars a day under ‘cash withdrawals’.

It was then that I noticed Agnes’s expression. She was staring fixedly at her hands, her mouth compressed into a thin line. Her gaze flickered towards me and away again. I stood, a fine trickle of sweat running down my back.

‘He told me something very interesting. Apparently in the run-up to Christmas a considerable sum of money was removed from our joint bank account. It was removed day by day from a nearby ATM in amounts that were – perhaps – designed not to be noticed. He picked it up because they have anti-fraud software designed to identify strange patterns of use in any of our bank cards and this was flagged up as unusual. Obviously this was a little concerning so I asked Agnes and she told me it wasn’t anything to do with her. So I asked Ashok to provide the CCTV for the days concerned and my security people matched it up with the times of the withdrawals and it turns out, Louisa,’ here he looked at me directly, ‘the only person going in and out of the building at those times was you.’

My eyes widened.

‘Now, I could go to the banks concerned and ask them to provide the CCTV from their ATMs at the times the amount was taken, but I’d rather not put them to that trouble. So really I wanted to know whether you could explain what was going on here. And why almost ten thousand dollars was removed from our joint account.’

I looked at Agnes but she was still looking away from me.

My mouth had dried even more than it had that morning.

‘I had to do some … Christmas shopping. For Agnes.’

‘You have a card to do that. Which clearly shows which shops you’ve been in and you provide the receipts for all purchases. Which, up to now, I gather from Michael, you have done. But cash … cash is rather less transparent. Do you have the receipts for this shopping?’

‘No.’

‘And can you tell me what you bought?’

‘I … No.’

‘So what has happened to the money, Louisa?’

I couldn’t speak. I swallowed. And then I said, ‘I don’t know.’

‘You don’t know?’

‘I – I didn’t steal anything.’ I felt the colour rising to my cheeks.

‘So Agnes is lying?’

‘No.’

‘Louisa – Agnes knows that I would give her anything she wanted. To be frank, she could spend ten times that in a day and I wouldn’t bat an eyelid. So she has no reason to sneak around withdrawing cash sums from the nearest ATM. So I’m asking you again, what happened to the money?’

I felt flushed, panicky. And then Agnes looked up at me. Her face was a silent plea.

‘Louisa?’

‘Perhaps I – I might have taken it.’

‘You might have taken it?’

‘For shopping. Not for me. You can check my room. You can check my bank account.’

‘You spent ten thousand dollars on “shopping”. Shopping for what?’

‘Just … bits and pieces.’

He lowered his head briefly, as if he were trying to control his temper.

‘Bits and pieces,’ he repeated slowly. ‘Louisa, you realize your being in this household is a matter of trust.’

‘I do, Mr Gopnik. And I take that very seriously.’

‘You have access to the most inner workings of this household. You have keys, credit cards, intimate knowledge of our routines. You are well rewarded for that – because we understand this is a position of responsibility and we rely on you to not betray that responsibility.’

‘Mr Gopnik. I love this job. I wouldn’t …’ I cast an anguished look at Agnes, but she was still staring down. One of her hands, I saw, was holding the other, her fingernail digging deep into the flesh of the ball of her thumb.

‘You really can’t explain what has happened to that money?’

‘I – I didn’t steal it.’

He looked at me intently for a long moment, as if waiting for something. When it didn’t come his expression hardened. ‘This is disappointing, Louisa. I know Agnes is very fond of you and feels you have been very helpful to her. But I cannot have someone in my household whom I do not trust.’

‘Leonard –’ Agnes began, but he held up a hand.

‘No, darling. I’ve been through this before. I’m sorry, Louisa, but your employment is terminated with immediate effect.’

‘Wh-what?’

‘You will be given an hour to clear your room. You will leave a forwarding address with Michael and he will be in touch regarding whatever is owed to you. I would take this opportunity to remind you of the non-disclosure element of your contract. The details of this conversation will go no further. I hope you can see that this is for your benefit as much as ours.’

The colour had drained from Agnes’s face. ‘No, Leonard. You can’t do this.’

‘I am not discussing this further. I have to go to work. Louisa, your hour starts now.’

He stood. He was waiting for me to leave the room.

I emerged from the study with my head spinning. Michael was waiting for me, and it took me a couple of seconds to grasp that he was not there to see if I was okay but to escort me to my room. That from now on I really was not trusted in this house.

I walked silently down the corridor, vaguely conscious of Ilaria’s stunned face at the kitchen door, the sound of impassioned conversation somewhere at the other end of the apartment. I couldn’t see Nathan anywhere. As Michael stood in the doorway I pulled my case from under my bed and began to pack, messily, chaotically, pulling out drawers, hauling things in as quickly as I could, conscious that I was working against some capricious clock. My brain hummed – shock and outrage tempered by the need not to forget anything: had I left laundry in the laundry room? Where were my trainers? And then, twenty minutes later, I was done. All my belongings were packed into a suitcase, a holdall and a large checked shopping bag.

‘Here, I’ll take that,’ said Michael, reaching for my wheelie case as he saw me struggling to get the three bags to the bedroom door. It took me a second to realize this was less an act of kindness than efficiency.

‘iPad?’ he said. ‘Work phone? Credit card.’ I handed them over, along with the door keys, and he put them into his pocket.

I walked along the hallway, still struggling to believe this was happening. Ilaria was standing in the kitchen doorway, her apron on, her plump hands pressed together. As I passed her, I glanced sideways, expecting her to curse me in Spanish, or to give me the kind of withering look that women of her age reserve for alleged thieves. But instead she stepped forward and silently touched my hand. Michael turned away, as if he hadn’t seen. And then we were at the front door.

He passed me the handle of my case.

‘Goodbye, Louisa,’ he said, his expression unreadable. ‘Good luck.’

I stepped out. And the huge mahogany door closed firmly behind me.

I sat in the diner for two hours. I was in shock. I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t rage. I just felt paralysed. I thought at first that Agnes would sort this out. She would find a way to convey to her husband that he was wrong. We were friends, after all. So I sat and waited for Michael to appear, looking slightly awkward, ready to pull my cases back to the Lavery. I gazed at my mobile phone, waiting for a text message – Louisa, there has been terrible misunderstanding. But none came.

When I realized it probably wasn’t going to come, I thought about simply heading back to the UK, but to do so would wreak havoc on Treena’s life – the last thing she and Thom needed was me turfing them out of the flat. I couldn’t return to Mum and Dad’s – it wasn’t just the soul-destroying thought of moving back to Stortfold but I thought I might die if I had to go home as a failure twice, the first time broken after drunkenly falling from a building, the second fired from the job I had loved.

And, of course, I could no longer stay with Sam.

I cradled my coffee cup with fingers that still trembled and saw that I had effectively boxed myself out of my own life. I considered calling Josh, but I didn’t feel it was appropriate to ask him if I could move in, given I wasn’t sure we’d even had a first date.

And if I did find accommodation, what was I going to do? I had no job. I didn’t know if Mr Gopnik could revoke my work permit. Presumably that only existed as long as I worked for him.

Worst of all, I was haunted by the way he had looked at me, his expression of utter disappointment and faint contempt when I had failed to come up with a satisfactory answer. His quiet approval had been one of the many small satisfactions of my life there – that a man of such stature had thought I was doing a good job had boosted my confidence, had left me feeling capable, professional, in a way I hadn’t since looking after Will. I wanted so badly to explain myself to him, to regain his goodwill, but how could I? I saw Agnes’s face, eyes wide, pleading. She would call, wouldn’t she? Why hadn’t she called?

‘You want a refill, sweetheart?’ I looked up at the middle-aged waitress with tangerine-coloured hair holding the coffee jug. She eyed my belongings like she had seen this scenario a million times before. ‘Just got here?’

‘Not exactly.’ I tried to smile but it came out as a kind of grimace.

She poured the coffee, and stooped, lowering her voice. ‘My cousin runs a hostel in Bensonhurst if you’re stuck for somewhere to stay. There are cards over by the till. It ain’t pretty, but it’s cheap and it’s clean. Call sooner rather than later, you know what I’m saying? Places fill up.’ She put a hand briefly on my shoulder and walked on to the next customer.

That small act of kindness almost did for my composure. For the first time I felt overwhelmed, crushed by the knowledge that I was alone in a city that no longer welcomed me. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do now that my bridges were apparently pushing out thick black smoke on two continents. I tried to picture myself explaining to my parents what had happened, but found myself once again butting up against the vast wall of Agnes’s secret. Could you tell even one person without the truth slowly creeping out? My parents would be so outraged on my behalf that I couldn’t put it past Dad not to ring Mr Gopnik just to set him straight about his deceitful wife. And what if Agnes denied everything? I thought about Nathan’s words – ultimately we were staff, not friends. What if she lied and said I had stolen the money? Wouldn’t that make things worse?

For perhaps the first time since I had arrived in New York I wished I hadn’t come. I was still in last night’s clothes, stale and crumpled, which made me feel even worse. I sniffed quietly and wiped my nose with a paper napkin while staring at the mug in front of me. Outside, life in Manhattan continued, oblivious, fast-moving, ignoring the detritus that piled up in the gutter. What do I do now, Will? I thought, a huge lump rising in my throat.

As if on cue my phone pinged.

What the bloody hell is going on? wrote Nathan. Call me, Clark.

And, despite myself, I smiled.

Nathan said there was no bloody way I was going to stay in a bloody hostel in bloody God knew where, with the rapists and the drug-dealers and God knew what. I was to wait until seven thirty when the bloody Gopniks had left for bloody dinner and I was to meet him at the service entrance and we would work out what the hell to do next. There was quite a lot of swearing for three text messages.

When I arrived his anger was uncharacteristically undimmed.

‘I don’t get it. It’s like they just ghosted you. Like a ruddy Mafiosi code of silence. Michael wouldn’t tell me anything other than it was a “matter of dishonesty”. I told him I’d never met a more honest person in my bloody life and they all needed their heads looking at. What the hell happened?’

He had shepherded me into his room off the service corridor and closed the door behind us. It was such a relief to see him it was all I could do not to hug him. I didn’t, though. I thought I’d probably clutched enough men in the last twenty-four hours.

‘For Chrissakes. People. You want a beer?’

‘Sure.’

He cracked open two cans and handed one to me, sitting down on his easy chair. I perched on the bed and took a sip.

‘So … well?’

I pulled a face. ‘I can’t tell you, Nathan.’

His eyebrows shot somewhere towards the ceiling. ‘You too? Oh, mate. Don’t tell me you –’

‘Of course not. I wouldn’t steal a teabag from the Gopniks. But if I told you what really happened it would … it would be disastrous. For other people in the house … It’s complicated.’

He frowned. ‘What? Are you saying you took the blame for something you didn’t do?’

‘Sort of.’

Nathan rested his elbows on his knees, shaking his head. ‘This isn’t right.’

‘I know.’

‘Someone’s got to say something. You know he was thinking about calling the cops?’

My jaw might have dropped.

‘Yeah. She persuaded him not to, but Michael said he was mad enough to do it. Something about an ATM?’

‘I didn’t do it, Nathan.’

‘I know that, Clark. You’d make a crap criminal. Worst poker face I ever saw.’ He took a swig of his beer. ‘Dammit. You know, I love my job. I like working for these families. I like Old Man Gopnik. But every now and then it’s like they remind you, you know? You’re basically just expendable. Doesn’t matter how much they say you’re their mate and how great you are, how much they depend on you, yada-yada-yada, the moment they don’t need you any more or you’ve done something they don’t like, bang. You’re out the door. Fairness doesn’t even come into it.’

It was the longest thing I’d heard Nathan say since I got to New York.

‘I hate this, Lou. Even knowing so little it’s clear to me you’re being shafted. And it stinks.’

‘It’s complicated.’

‘Complicated?’ He gazed at me steadily, shook his head again and took a long swig of his beer. ‘Mate, you’re a better person than I am.’

We were going to order takeout but just as Nathan was climbing into his jacket to head off to the Chinese restaurant there was a knock at the door. We looked at each other in horror and he motioned me into the bathroom. I skidded in and closed the door silently behind me. But as I stood wedged up against his towel rail I heard a familiar voice.

‘Clark, it’s okay. It’s Ilaria,’ said Nathan, a moment later.

She was in her apron, holding a pot with a lid on it. ‘For you. I hear you talking.’ She held the pot towards me. ‘I made it for you. You need to eat. It’s the chicken you like, with the pepper sauce.’

‘Aw, mate.’ Nathan clapped Ilaria on the back. She stumbled forwards, recovered and placed the pot carefully on Nathan’s desk.

‘You made this for me?’

Ilaria was prodding Nathan in the chest. ‘I know she does not do this thing they say. I know plenty. Plenty that goes on this apartment.’ She tapped her nose. ‘Oh, yes.’

I briefly lifted the lid – delicious smells seeped out. I suddenly remembered I had barely eaten all day. ‘Thanks, Ilaria. I don’t know what to say.’

‘Where you go now?’

‘I haven’t got a clue.’

‘Well. You’re not staying in a hostel in bloody Bensonhurst,’ Nathan said. ‘You can stay here for a night or two to sort yourself out. I’ll lock my door. You won’t say anything, will you, Ilaria?’

She pulled an incredulous face, like it was stupid of him even to ask.

‘She’s been cursing your woman out all afternoon like you wouldn’t believe. Says she sold you down the river. She made them a fish thing for dinner that she knows they both hate. I tell you, mate, I’ve learnt a whole new bunch of swear words today.’

Ilaria muttered something under her breath. I could only make out the word puta.

The easy chair was too small for Nathan to sleep in and he was too old fashioned to countenance me sleeping in it so we agreed to share his double bed with an arrangement of cushions down the middle to protect us from accidentally touching each other in the night. I’m not sure who was more ill-at-ease. Nathan made a great show of shepherding me into the bathroom first, making sure I’d locked the door, and waiting for me to get into bed before he emerged from his ablutions. He was in a T-shirt and striped cotton pyjama bottoms, and even then I didn’t know where to look.

‘Bit weird, eh?’ he said, climbing in.

‘Um, yes.’ I don’t know if it was shock or exhaustion or just the surreal turn of events but I started to giggle. And then the giggle turned into tears. And before I knew it I was sobbing, hunched over in a strange bed, my head in my hands.

‘Aw, mate.’ Nathan plainly felt awkward hugging me while we were actually in bed together. He kept patting my shoulder and leaning in towards me. ‘It’ll be all right.’

‘How can it be? I’ve lost my job and my place to live and the man I loved. I’ll have no references, because Mr Gopnik thinks I’m a thief, and I don’t even know which country I belong in.’ I wiped my nose on my sleeve. ‘I’ve messed up everything again and I don’t know why I even bother trying to be something more than I was because every time I do it ends in disaster.’

‘You’re just tired. It’ll be all right. It will.’

‘Like it was with Will?’

‘Aw … that was completely different. Come on …’ Nathan hugged me then, pulling me into his shoulder, his big arm around me. I cried until I couldn’t cry any more and then, just as he said, exhausted by the day’s – and night’s – events, I must have fallen asleep.

I woke eight hours later to find myself alone in Nathan’s room. It took me a couple of minutes to work out where I was and then the previous day’s events hit me. I lay under the duvet for a while, curled up in a foetal ball, wondering idly if I could just stay there for a year or two until my life had somehow sorted itself out.

I checked my phone: two missed calls and a series of messages from Josh that seemed to have come through in a clump late the previous evening.

Hey, Louisa – hope you’re feeling okay. Kept thinking about your dance and bursting out laughing at work! What a night! Jx

You okay? Just checking you did make it home and didn’t take another nap in Times Square ;-) Jx

Okay. So it’s now gone ten thirty. I’m going to guess you headed to bed to sleep it off. Hope I didn’t offend you. I was just kidding around. Give me a call x

That night, with its boxing match and the glittering lights of Times Square, already seemed a lifetime ago. I climbed out of bed, showered and dressed, setting my belongings in the corner of the bathroom. It limited the space somewhat but I thought it was safer, just in case a stray Gopnik happened to poke a head around Nathan’s door.

I texted him to ask when it would be safe for me to go out and he sent back NOW. Both in study. I slipped out of the apartment and down to the service entrance, walking swiftly past Ashok with my head low. He was talking to a delivery man but I saw his head spin and heard his ‘Hey! Louisa!’ but I had already gone.

Manhattan was frozen and grey, one of those bleak days when ice particles seem to hang in the air, the chill pierces your bones, and only eyes, occasionally noses, are visible. I walked with my head down and my hat rammed low, not sure where I was going. I ended up back at the diner, reasoning that everything looked better after breakfast. I sat in a booth by myself and looked out at the commuters with somewhere to go and forced down a muffin, because it was the cheapest, most filling thing on the menu, trying to ignore the fact that it was claggy and tasteless in my mouth.

At nine forty a text arrived. Michael. My heart leapt. Hi, Louisa. Mr Gopnik will pay you to the end of the month in lieu of notice. All your healthcare benefits cease at that point. Your green card is unaffected. I’m sure you understand this is obviously beyond what he was required to do, given the violation of your contract, but Agnes intervened on your behalf.

Best, Michael

‘Nice of her,’ I muttered. Thank you for letting me know, I typed. He didn’t respond further.

And then my phone pinged again. Okay, Louisa. Now I’m worried I did do something to upset you. Or maybe you got lost headed back to Central Park? Please give me a call. JX

I met Josh near his office, one of those buildings in Midtown that are so tall that if you stand on the sidewalk and look up, a little part of your brain suggests you should probably topple over. He came striding towards me, a soft grey scarf wrapped around his neck. As I climbed off the small wall I had been sitting on he walked straight up and gave me a hug.

‘I can’t believe this. C’mon. Ah, boy, you’re freezing. Let’s go grab something warm for you to eat.’

We sat in a steamy, cacophonous taco bar two blocks away while a constant stream of office workers filed through and servers barked orders. I told him, as I had Nathan, the bare bones of the story. ‘I can’t really say any more, just that I didn’t steal anything. I wouldn’t. I’ve never stolen anything. Well, apart from once when I was eight. Mum still brings it up occasionally, if she needs an example of how I nearly ended up on a path to a life of crime.’ I tried to smile.

He frowned. ‘So does this mean you’re going to have to leave New York?’

‘I don’t really know what I’m going to do. But I can’t imagine the Gopniks are going to give me a reference, and I don’t know how I can support myself here. I mean, I don’t have a job and Manhattan hotels are a little out of my price range …’ I had looked online in the diner at local rentals and nearly spat out my coffee. The tiny room I had felt so ambivalent about when I had first arrived with the Gopniks turned out to be affordable only with an executive salary. No wonder that cockroach hadn’t wanted to move.

‘Would it help you to stay at mine?’

I looked up from my taco.

‘Just temporarily. It doesn’t have to mean a whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing. I have a sofa-bed in the front room. You probably don’t remember.’ He gave me a small smile. I had forgotten how Americans actually genuinely invited people into their homes. Unlike English people, who would issue an invitation but emigrate at short notice if you said you were going to take them up on it.

‘That’s really kind. But, Josh, it would complicate things. I think I might have to go home, for now at least. Just till another position comes up.’

Josh stared at his plate. ‘Timing sucks, huh?’

‘Yup.’

‘I was looking forward to more of those dances.’

I pulled a face. ‘Oh, God. The dance thing. I … Do I … want to ask you what happened the other night?’

‘You really don’t remember?’

‘Only the Times Square bits. Maybe getting into a taxi.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Oho! Oh, Louisa Clark. It’s pretty tempting to start teasing you here, but nothing happened. Like that, anyway. Unless licking my neck is really your thing.’

‘But I wasn’t wearing my clothes when I woke up.’

‘That’s because you insisted on removing them during your dance. You announced, once we got to my building, that you would like to express your last few days through the medium of freeform dance, and while I followed on behind, you shed items of clothing from the lobby to the living room.’

‘I took my own clothes off?’

‘And very charmingly too. There were … flourishes.’

I had a sudden image of myself twirling, a coy leg thrust out from behind a curtain, the feel of cool window glass on my backside. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. My cheeks a furious red, I covered my face with my hands.

‘I have to say, as a drunk you make a highly entertaining one.’

‘And … when we got into your bedroom?’

‘Oh, by that stage you were down to your underwear. And then you sang a crazy song – something about a monkey, or a molahonkey or something? Then you fell asleep very abruptly in a little heap on the floor. So I put a T-shirt on you and put you in my bed. And I slept on the sofa-bed.’

‘I’m so sorry. And thank you.’

‘My pleasure.’ He smiled, and his eyes twinkled. ‘Most of my dates are not half that entertaining.’

I dipped my head over my mug. ‘You know, these last few days I’ve felt like I’m permanently about two degrees from either laughing or crying and right now I slightly want to do both.’

‘Are you staying at Nathan’s tonight?’

‘I think so.’

‘Okay. Well, don’t do anything hasty. Let me put a few calls in before you book that ticket. See if there are any openings anywhere.’

‘You really think there might be?’ He was always so confident. It was one of the things that most reminded me of Will.

‘There’s always something. I’ll call you later.’

And then he kissed me. He did it so casually that I almost didn’t register what he was doing. He leant forward and kissed me on the lips, like it was something he’d done a million times before, like it was the natural end to all our lunch dates. And then, before I had time to be startled, he let go of my fingers and wound his scarf around his neck. ‘Okay. I gotta go. Couple of big meetings this afternoon. Keep your chin up.’ He smiled, his high-wattage perfect smile, and headed back to his office, leaving me on my high plastic stool, my mouth hanging open.

I didn’t tell Nathan what had happened. I checked in with him by text that it was okay to come home, and he told me the Gopniks were headed out again at seven so I should probably leave it till a quarter past. I walked in the cold and sat in the diner and finally returned home to find Ilaria had left me some soup in a Thermos and two of the soft scones they called biscuits. Nathan was out on a date that evening and gone in the morning when I woke. He left me a note to say he hoped I was okay and reassured me that it was fine for me to stay. I only snored a little bit, apparently.

I had spent months wishing I had more free time. Now that I had it, I found the city was not a friendly place without money to burn. I left the building when it was safe to do so and walked the streets until my toes grew too cold, then had a cup of tea in a Starbucks, stretching that out for a couple of hours and using the free WiFi to search for jobs. There wasn’t much for someone with no references, unless I was experienced in the food industry.

I began to layer up, now that my life did not involve mere minutes spent in the open air between heated lobbies and warm limousines. I wore a blue fisherman’s jumper, my workman’s dungarees, heavy boots and a pair of tights and socks underneath. Not elegant, but that was no longer my priority.

At lunchtime I headed for a fast-food joint where the burgers were cheap and nobody noticed a solitary diner eking out a bun for another hour or two. Department stores were a depressing no-no, as I no longer felt able to spend money, although there were good Ladies and WiFi. Twice I headed down to the Vintage Clothes Emporium, where the girls commiserated with me but exchanged the slightly tense looks of those who suspect they are going to be asked a favour. ‘If you hear of any jobs going – especially like yours – can you let me know?’ I said, when I could no longer browse the rails.

‘Sweetheart, we barely make rent or we’d have you here like a shot.’ Lydia blew a sympathetic smoke ring at the ceiling and looked to her sister, who batted it away.

‘You’ll make the clothes stink. Look, we’ll ask around,’ Angelica said. She said it in a way that made me think I was not the first person who had asked.

I trudged out of the shop feeling despondent. I didn’t know what to do with myself. There was nowhere quiet where I could just sit for a while, nowhere that offered space where I could work out what to do next. If you didn’t have money in New York, you were a refugee, unwelcome anywhere for too long. Perhaps, I mused, it was time to admit defeat and buy that plane ticket.

And then it hit me.

I took the subway up to Washington Heights and got off a short walk from the library. It felt, for the first time in days, like I was somewhere familiar, somewhere that welcomed me. This would be my refuge, my springboard to a new future. I headed up the stone steps. On the first floor I found an unoccupied computer terminal. I sat down heavily, took a breath and, for the first time since the Gopnik debacle, I closed my eyes and just let my thoughts settle.

I felt some long-held tension ease away from my shoulders and allowed myself to float on the low murmur of people around me, a world away from the chaos and bustle of outside. I don’t know if it was just the joy of being surrounded by books, and quiet, but I felt like an equal here, inconspicuous, a brain, a keyboard, just another person searching for information.

And there, for the first time, I found myself asking what the hell had just happened anyway. Agnes had betrayed me. My months with the Gopniks suddenly felt like a fever dream, time out of time, a strange, compacted blur of limousines and gilded interiors, a world onto which a curtain had been briefly drawn back, then abruptly closed again.

This, in contrast, was real. This, I told myself, was where I could come each day until I had worked out my strategy. Here I would find the steps to forge a new route upwards.

Knowledge is power, Clark.

‘Ma’am.’

I opened my eyes to find a security guard in front of me. He stooped so that he was looking directly into my face. ‘You can’t sleep in here.’

‘What?’

‘You can’t sleep in here.’

‘I wasn’t sleeping,’ I said indignantly. ‘I was thinking.’

‘Maybe think with your eyes open then, huh? Or you got to leave.’ He turned away, murmuring something into a walkie-talkie. It took me a moment to register what he had really been saying to me. Two people at a nearby table looked up at me and then away. My face flushed. I saw the awkward glances of other library users around me. I looked down at my clothes, at my denim dungarees with the fleece-lined workman’s boots and my woollen hat. Not quite Bergdorf Goodman but hardly Vagrant City.

‘Hey! I’m not homeless!’ I called out at his departing back. ‘I have protested on behalf of this place! Mister! I AM NOT HOMELESS!’ Two women looked up from their quiet conversation, one raising an eyebrow.

And then it occurred to me: I was.