فصل 25

25

It took me two evenings to locate Margot’s grandson. Josh was busy with work and Margot went to bed most nights by nine so one evening I sat on the floor by the front door – the one place where I could pick up the Gopniks’ WiFi – and I started googling her son, testing the name Frank De Witt, and when nothing of that name came up, Frank Aldridge Junior. There was nobody who could have been him, unless he’d moved to a different part of the country, but even then the dates and nationalities of all the men who came up under that name were wrong.

On the second night, on a whim, I looked up Margot’s married name in some old papers that were in the chest of drawers in my room. I found a card for a funeral service for Terrence Weber, so I tried Frank Weber and discovered, with some wistfulness, that she had named her son after her beloved husband, who had died years before he was even born. And that some time further down the line she had changed her name back to her maiden name – De Witt – and reinvented herself completely.

Frank Weber Junior was a dentist who lived somewhere called Tuckahoe in Westchester. I found a couple of references to him on LinkedIn and on Facebook through his wife, Laynie. The big news was that they had a son, Vincent, who was a little younger than me. He worked in Yonkers at a not-for-profit educational centre for underprivileged children and it was he who decided it for me. Frank Weber Junior might be too angry with his mother to rebuild a relationship, but what harm would there be in trying Vincent? I found his profile, took a breath, sent him a message, and waited.

Josh took a break from his never-ending round of corporate jockeying and had lunch with me at the noodle bar, announcing there was a corporate ‘family day’ the following Saturday at the Loeb Boathouse and that he’d like me to come as his plus-one.

‘I was planning on going to the library protest.’

‘You don’t want to keep doing that, Louisa. You’re not going to change anything standing around with a bunch of people shouting at passing cars.’

‘And I’m not really family,’ I said, bristling slightly.

‘Close enough. C’mon! It’ll be a great day. Have you ever been to the boathouse? It’s gorgeous. My firm really knows how to lay on a party. You’re still doing your “say yes” thing, right? So you have to say yes.’ He did puppy eyes at me. ‘Say yes, Louisa, please. Go on.’

He had me and he knew it. I smiled resignedly. ‘Okay. Yes.’

‘Great! Last year apparently they had all these inflatable sumo suits and people wrestled on the grass and there were family races and organized games. You’re going to love it.’

‘Sounds amazing,’ I said. The words ‘organized games’ held the same appeal to me as the words ‘compulsory smear test’. But it was Josh and he looked so pleased at the thought of my accompanying him that I didn’t have the heart to say no.

‘I promise you won’t have to wrestle my workmates. You might have to wrestle me afterwards, though,’ he said, kissed me, and left.

I checked my inbox all week, but there was nothing, other than an email from Lily asking if I knew the best place to get an underage tattoo, a friendly hello from someone who was supposedly at school with me but whom I didn’t remember at all, and one from my mother sending me a GIF of an overweight cat apparently talking to a two-year-old and a link to a game called Farm Fun Fandango.

‘Are you sure you’ll be okay by yourself, Margot?’ I said, as I gathered my keys and purse into my handbag. I was wearing a white jumpsuit with gold lamé epaulettes and trim that she’d given me from her early eighties period and she clasped her hands together. ‘Oh, that looks magnificent on you. You must have almost exactly the measurements that I had at the same age. I used to have a bust, you know! Terribly unfashionable in the sixties and seventies but there you go.’

I didn’t like to tell her that it was taking everything I had not to burst the seams but she was right – I had lost a few pounds since I’d moved in with her, mostly because of my efforts to cook her things that were nutritionally useful. I felt lovely in the jumpsuit and gave her a twirl. ‘Have you taken your pills?’

‘Of course I have. Don’t fuss, dear. Does that mean you won’t be back later?’

‘I’m not sure. I’ll take Dean Martin for a quick walk before I go, though. Just in case.’ I paused, as I reached for the dog’s lead. ‘Margot? Why did you call him Dean Martin? I never asked.’

The tone of her response told me it was an idiotic question. ‘Because Dean Martin was the most terrifically handsome man, and he’s the most terrifically handsome dog, of course.’

The little dog sat obediently, his bulging, mismatched eyes rolling above his flapping tongue.

‘Silly of me to ask,’ I said, and let myself out of the front door.

‘Well, look at you!’ Ashok whistled as Dean Martin and I ran down the last flight of stairs to the ground floor. ‘Disco diva!’

‘You like it?’ I said, throwing a shape in front of him. ‘It was Margot’s.’

‘Seriously? That woman is full of surprises.’

‘Watch out for her, will you? She’s pretty wobbly today.’

‘Kept back a piece of mail just so I have an excuse to knock on her door at six o’clock.’

‘You’re a star.’

We jogged outside to the park and Dean Martin did what dogs do and I did what you do with a little bag and a certain amount of shuddering and various passers-by stared in the way you do if you see a girl in a lamé-trimmed jumpsuit running around with an excitable dog and a small bag of poo. It was as we sprinted back in, Dean Martin yapping delightedly at my heels, that we bumped into Josh in the lobby. ‘Oh, hey!’ I said, kissing him. ‘I’ll be two minutes, okay? Just have to wash my hands and grab my handbag.’

‘Grab your handbag?’

‘Yes!’ I gazed at him. ‘Oh. Purse. You call it a purse.’

‘I just meant – you’re not getting changed?’

I looked down at my jumpsuit. ‘I am changed.’

‘Sweetheart, if you wear that to our office day out they’re going to wonder if you’re the entertainment.’

It took me a moment to realize he wasn’t joking. ‘You don’t like it?’

‘Oh. No. You look great. It’s just it’s kind of a bit … drag queeny? We’re an office full of suits. Like, the other wives and girlfriends will be in shift dresses or white pants. It’s just … smart casual?’

‘Oh.’ I tried not to feel disappointed. ‘Sorry. I don’t really get US dress codes. Okay. Okay. Wait there. I’ll be right back.’

I took the stairs two at a time and burst into Margot’s apartment, throwing Dean Martin’s lead towards Margot, who had got up out of her chair for something and now followed me down the hallway, one thin arm braced against the wall.

‘Why are you in such a tearing hurry? You sound like a herd of elephants charging around the apartment.’

‘I have to change.’

‘Change? Why?’

‘I’m not suitable, apparently.’ I rattled my way through my wardrobe. Shift dresses? The only clean shift dress I had was the psychedelic one Sam had given me and it felt somehow disloyal to wear that.

‘I thought you looked very nice,’ said Margot, pointedly.

Josh appeared at the open front door, having made his way up behind me. ‘Oh, she does. She looks great. I just – I just want her to be talked about for the right reasons.’ He laughed. Margot didn’t laugh back.

I rifled through my wardrobe, throwing things onto my bed, until I found my navy Gucci-style blazer and a striped silk shirt dress. I threw that over my head and slid my feet into my green Mary Janes.

‘How’s that?’ I said, as I ran into the hallway, trying to straighten my hair.

‘Great!’ he said, unable to hide his relief. ‘Okay. Let’s go.’

‘I’ll leave the door unlocked, dear,’ I heard Margot mutter, as I ran after Josh, who was headed out. ‘Just in case you want to come back.’

The Loeb Boathouse was a beautiful venue, sheltered by its position from the noise and chaos outside Central Park, its vast windows offering a panoramic view of the lake glinting in the afternoon sun. It was packed with smartly dressed men in identikit chinos, women with professionally blow-dried hair and was, as Josh had predicted, a sea of pastels and white trousers.

I took a glass of champagne from a tray being proffered by a waiter and watched quietly while Josh worked the room, glad-handing various men, who all seemed to look the same, with their short neat haircuts and square jaws with even white teeth. I had a brief memory of events I had been to with Agnes: I had fallen into my other New York world again, a world away from the vintage clothes stores and mothballed jumpers and cheap coffee I had been immersed in more recently. I took a long sip of my champagne, deciding to embrace it.

Josh appeared beside me. ‘Quite something, isn’t it?’

‘It’s very beautiful.’

‘Better than sitting in some old woman’s apartment all afternoon, huh?’

‘Well, I don’t think I –’

‘My boss is coming. Okay. I’m going to introduce you. Stay with me. Mitchell!’

Josh lifted an arm and the older man walked over slowly, a statuesque brunette woman at his side, her smile oddly blank. Perhaps if you had to be nice to everyone all the time that was what eventually happened to your face.

‘Are you enjoying the afternoon?’

‘Very much so, sir,’ Josh said. ‘What a truly beautiful setting. May I introduce my girlfriend? This is Louisa Clark, from England. Louisa, this is Mitchell Dumont. He’s head of Mergers and Acquisitions.’

‘English, eh?’ I felt the man’s huge hand close over mine and shake it emphatically.

‘Yes. I –’

‘Good. Good.’ He turned back to Josh. ‘So, young man, I hear you’re making quite a splash in your department.’

Josh couldn’t hide his delight. His smile spread across his face. His eyes flickered to me and then to the woman beside me, and I realized he was expecting me to make conversation with her. Nobody had bothered to introduce us. Mitchell Dumont put a paternal arm around Josh’s shoulders and walked him a few feet away.

‘So …’ I said. I raised my eyebrows and lowered them again.

She smiled blankly at me.

‘I love your dress,’ I said, the universal smoother for two women who have absolutely nothing to say to each other.

‘Thank you. Cute shoes,’ she said. But she said it in the way that meant they weren’t cute at all. She glanced over, plainly wondering if she could find someone else to talk to. She had taken one look at my outfit and deemed herself way beyond my pay grade.

There was nobody else nearby, so I tried again. ‘So do you come here a lot? To the Loeb Boathouse, I mean?’

‘It’s Lobe,’ she said.

‘Lobe?’

‘You pronounced it Lerb. It’s Loeb.’

Looking at her perfectly made-up, suspiciously plump lips repeatedly saying the word made me want to giggle. I took a swig of my champagne to disguise it. ‘So do you cerm to the Lerb Berthouse often?’ I said, unable to help myself.

‘No,’ she said. ‘Although one of my friends got married here last year. That was such a beautiful wedding.’

‘I’ll bet. And what do you do?’

‘I’m a homemaker.’

‘A herm-maker! My merther is also a herm-maker.’ I took another long sip of my drink. ‘Herm-making is perfectly lervely.’ I saw Josh, his face focused intently on his boss’s, reminding me briefly of Thom’s when he was pleading with Dad to give him some of his crisps.

The woman’s expression had become faintly concerned – or as far as a woman who couldn’t move her brow could express concern. A bubble of giggles had started to build in my chest and I pleaded with some unseen deity to keep them under control.

‘Maya!’ Her voice tinged with relief, Mrs Dumont (at least, I assumed that was whom I’d been talking to) waved at a woman approaching us, her perfect figure neatly pinned into a mint-coloured shift dress. I waited while they air-kissed.

‘You look simply gorgeous.’

‘As do you. I love that dress.’

‘Oh, it’s so old. And you’re so sweet. How’s that darling husband of yours? Always talking business.’

‘Oh, you know Mitchell.’ Mrs Dumont plainly couldn’t ignore my presence any longer. ‘This is Joshua Ryan’s girlfriend. I’m so sorry, I missed your name. Terribly noisy in here.’

‘Louisa,’ I said.

‘How lovely. I’m Chrissy. I’m Jeffrey’s other half. You know Jeffrey in Sales and Marketing?’

‘Oh, everyone knows Jeffrey,’ said Mrs Dumont.

‘Oh, Jeffrey …’ I said, shaking my head. Then nodding. Then shaking my head again.

‘And what do you do?’

‘What do I do?’

‘Louisa’s in fashion.’ Josh appeared at my side.

‘You certainly do have an individual look. I love the British, don’t you, Mallory? They are so interesting in their choices.’

There was a brief silence, while everyone digested my choices.

‘Louisa’s about to start work at Women’s Wear Daily.’

‘You are?’ said Mallory Dumont.

‘I am?’ I said. ‘Yes. I am.’

‘Well, that must be just thrilling. What a wonderful magazine. I must find my husband. Do excuse me.’ With another bland smile she walked off on her vertiginous heels, Maya beside her.

‘Why did you say that?’ I said, reaching for another glass of champagne. ‘It sounds better than I house-sit an old lady?’

‘No. You – you just look like you might work in fashion.’

‘You’re still uncomfortable with what I’m wearing?’ I looked over at the two women, in their complementary dresses. I had a sudden memory of how Agnes must have felt at such gatherings, the myriad subtle ways women can find to let other women know they do not fit in.

‘You look great. It’s just it makes it easier to explain your – your particular … unique sensibility if they think you’re in fashion. Which you kind of are.’

‘I’m perfectly happy with what I do, Josh.’

‘But you want to work in fashion, don’t you? You can’t look after an old woman for ever. Look, I was going to tell you after – my sister-in-law, Debbie, she knows a woman in the marketing department at Women’s Wear Daily. She said she’s going to ask them to find out if they have any entry-level vacancies. She seems pretty confident she can do something for you. What do you say?’ He was beaming, like he’d presented me with the Holy Grail.

I took a swig of my drink. ‘Sure.’

‘There you go. Exciting!’ He kept looking at me, eyebrows raised.

‘Yay!’ I said finally.

He squeezed my shoulder. ‘I knew you’d be happy. Right. Let’s get back out there. It’s the family races next. Want a lime and soda? I don’t think we can really be seen to be drinking more than one glass of the champagne. Here, let me take that for you.’ He put my glass on the tray of a passing waiter and we headed out into the sunshine.

Given the elegance of the occasion and the spectacular nature of the setting, I should really have enjoyed the next couple of hours. I had said yes to a new experience, after all. But in truth I felt increasingly out of place among the corporate couples. The conversational rhythms eluded me so that when I was pulled into a casual group I ended up seeming either mute or stupid. Josh moved from person to person, like a guided managerial missile, at every stop his face eager and engaged, his manner polished and assertive. I found myself watching him and wondering again what on earth he saw in me. I was nothing like these women, with their glowing peach-coloured limbs and their uncreasable dresses, their tales of impossible nannies and holidays in the Bahamas. I followed in his wake, repeating his lie about my nascent fashion career and smiling mutely and agreeing that yes, yes it is very beautiful and thank you, ooh, yes, I’d love another glass of champagne and trying not to notice Josh’s bobbing eyebrow.

‘How are you enjoying the day?’

A woman with a red-haired bob so shiny it was almost mirrored stood beside me as Josh laughed uproariously at the joke of some older man in a pale blue shirt and chinos.

‘Oh. It’s great. Thank you.’

I had become very good by then at smiling and saying nothing at all.

‘Felicity Lieberman. I work two desks away from Josh. He’s doing really well.’

I shook her hand. ‘Louisa Clark. He certainly is.’ I stepped back and took another sip of my drink.

‘He’ll make partner within two years. I’m certain of it. You two been dating long?’

‘Uh, not that long. But we’ve known each other a lot longer.’

She seemed to be waiting for me to say more.

‘Well, we were sort of friends before.’ I had drunk too much and found myself talking more than I had intended. ‘I was actually with someone else, but Josh and I, we kept bumping into each other. Well, he says he was waiting for me. Or waiting until me and my ex split up. It was actually kind of romantic. And a bunch of stuff happened, then – bang! Suddenly we were in a relationship. You know how these things go.’

‘Oh, I do. He’s very persuasive, is our Josh.’

There was something in her laugh that unsettled me. ‘ “Persuasive”?’ I said, after a moment.

‘So did he do the whispering gallery on you?’

‘Did he what?’

She must have caught my look of shock. She leant towards me. ‘Felicity Lieberman, you are the cutest girl in New York.’ She glanced at Josh, then backtracked. ‘Oh, don’t look like that. We weren’t serious. And Josh really does like you. He talks about you a lot at work. He’s definitely serious. But, Jeez, these men and their moves, right?’

I tried to laugh. ‘Right.’

By the time Mr Dumont had made a self-congratulatory speech and couples had begun to float off to their homes I was sinking under an early hangover. Josh held open the door of a waiting taxi but I said I’d walk.

‘You don’t want to come back to mine? We could grab a bite to eat.’

‘I’m tired. And Margot has an appointment in the morning,’ I said. My cheeks were aching from all the fake smiling.

His eyes searched my face. ‘You’re mad at me.’

‘I’m not mad at you.’

‘You’re mad at me because of what I said about your job.’ He took my hand. ‘Louisa, I didn’t mean to upset you, sweetheart.’

‘But you wanted me to be someone else. You thought I was beneath them.’

‘No. I think you’re great. It’s just you could do better, because you have so much potential and I –’

‘Don’t say that, okay? The potential thing. It’s patronizing and it’s insulting and … Well, I don’t want you to say it to me. Ever. Okay?’

‘Woah.’ Josh glanced behind him, perhaps checking to see if any work colleagues were watching. He took my elbow. ‘Okay, so what is really going on here?’

I stared at my feet. I didn’t want to say anything, but I couldn’t stop myself. ‘How many?’

‘How many what?’

‘How many women have you done that thing to? The whispering gallery?’

It threw him. He rolled his eyes and briefly turned away. ‘Felicity.’

‘Yeah. Felicity.’

‘So you’re not the first. But it’s a nice thing, right? I thought you’d enjoy it. Look, I just wanted to make you smile.’

We stood on each side of the door as the taxi meter ticked, and the driver raised his eyes to the rear-view mirror, waiting.

‘And it did make you smile, right? We had a moment. Didn’t we have a moment?’

‘But you’d already had that moment. With someone else.’

‘C’mon, Louisa. Am I the only man you’ve ever said nice things to? Dressed up for? Made love to? We’re not teenagers. We’ve got history.’

‘And tried and tested moves.’

‘That’s not fair.’

I took a breath. ‘I’m sorry. It’s not just the whispering-gallery thing. I find these events a little tricky. I’m not used to having to pretend to be someone I’m not.’

His smile returned, his face softening. ‘Hey. You’ll get there. They’re nice people once you know them. Even the ones I’ve dated.’ He tried to smile.

‘If you say so.’

‘We’ll go on one of the softball days. That’s a bit lower key. You’ll love it.’

I raised a smile.

He leant forward and kissed me. ‘We okay?’ he said.

‘We’re okay.’

‘You sure you don’t want to come back with me?’

‘I need to check on Margot. Plus I have a headache.’

‘That’s what you get for knocking it back! Drink lots of water. It’s probably dehydration. I’ll speak to you tomorrow.’ He kissed me, climbed into the taxi and closed the door. As I stood there watching, watching, he waved, then tapped twice on the screen to send the taxi forward.

I checked the clock in the lobby when I arrived back and was surprised to find it was only six thirty. The afternoon seemed to have lasted several decades. I removed my shoes, feeling the utter relief that only a woman knows when pinched toes are finally allowed to sink into deep pile carpet, and walked up to Margot’s apartment barefoot with them dangling from my hand. I felt weary and cross in a way I couldn’t quite articulate, like I’d been asked to play a game whose rules I didn’t understand. I’d actually felt as if I’d rather be anywhere else than where I was. And I kept thinking about Felicity Lieberman’s Did he do the whispering gallery on you?

As I walked through the door I stooped to greet Dean Martin, who bounced his way up the hall to me. His squished little face was so delighted at my return that it was hard to stay grumpy. I sat down on the hall floor and let him jump around me, snuffling to reach my face with his pink tongue until I was smiling again.

‘It’s just me, Margot,’ I called.

‘Well, I hardly thought it was George Clooney,’ came the response. ‘More’s the pity for me. How were the Stepford Wives? Has he converted you yet?’

‘It was a lovely afternoon, Margot,’ I lied. ‘Everyone was very nice.’

‘That bad, huh? Would you mind fetching me a nice little vermouth if you happen to be passing the kitchen, dear?’

‘What the hell is vermouth?’ I murmured to the dog, but he sat down to scratch one of his ears with his hind leg.

‘Have one yourself, if you like,’ she added. ‘I suspect you’ll be in need of it.’

I was just climbing to my feet when my phone rang. I felt a momentary dismay – it would probably be Josh and I wasn’t quite ready to talk to him, but when I checked the screen it was my home number. I pressed the phone to my ear.

‘Dad?’

‘Louisa? Oh, thank goodness.’

I checked my watch. ‘Is everything okay? It must be the middle of the night there.’

‘Sweetheart, I’ve got bad news. It’s your granddad.’