There. She’ll probably kill me now. I’d better get out. Trying not to look as though I’m running, I head down the corridor and out of the apartment. I close the door behind me and lean against it, my heart thudding.
OK. So far so good. Now for Luke.
“I have absolutely no idea why you want to go to the Rainbow Room.” Luke leans back in his taxi seat and scowls out of the window.
“Because I never have, OK? I want to see the view!”
“But why now? Why today?”
“Why not today?” I glance at my watch and then survey Luke anxiously.
He’s pretending he’s happy. He’s pretending he’s liberated. But he’s not. He’s brooding.
Superficially, things have started to get slightly better. At least he hasn’t given away any more items of clothing, and this morning he actually shaved. But he’s still far from his old self. He didn’t go into work today but sat all day watching a triple bill of old black-and-white films starring Bette Davis.
Funnily enough, I’d never seen the resemblance between Bette Davis and Elinor before.
The truth is, Annabel was right, I think as I watch him. Well, of course she was. She knows her stepson as though he were her own child. And she knows that Elinor is right inside Luke, part of his very being. He can’t just cut her out and move on. He needs at least the chance of some kind of resolution. Even if it is painful.
I shut my eyes and send a silent plea to all gods. Please let this work. Please. And then maybe we’ll be able to draw a line under all of it and get on with our lives.
“Rockefeller Center,” says the taxi driver, pulling up, and I smile at Luke, trying to hide my nerves.
I tried to think of the least likely place that Elinor would ever be found — and came up with the Rainbow Room at Rockefeller Center, where tourists go to drink cocktails and gawk at the view over Manhattan. As we head up to the sixty-fifth floor in the lift, we’re both silent, and I pray desperately that she’ll be there, that it’ll all work out, that Luke won’t get too pissed off with me—
We walk out of the lift… and I can already see her. Sitting at a window table in a dark jacket, her face silhouetted against the view.
As he spots her, Luke gives a start.
“Becky. What the fuck—” He turns on his heel and I grab his arm.
“Luke, please. She wants to talk to you. Just… give her a chance.”
“You set this up?” His face is white with anger. “You brought me here deliberately?”
“I had to! You wouldn’t have come otherwise. Just five minutes. Listen to what she says.”
“Why on earth should I—”
“I really think the two of you need to talk. Luke, you can’t leave it like you did. It’s eating you up inside! And it’s not going to get any better unless you talk to her… Come on, Luke.” I loosen my grip on his arm and look at him pleadingly. “Just five minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”
He has to agree. If he stalks out now, I’m dead.
A group of German tourists have come up behind us and I watch them milling around at the window, gasping admiringly at the view.
“Five minutes,” says Luke at last. “That’s all.” Slowly he walks across the room and sits down opposite Elinor. She glances over at me and nods, and I turn away, my heart beating fast. Please don’t let her fuck this one up. Please.
I walk out of the bar and make my way into an empty function room, where I stand at the floor-length window, gazing out over the city. After a while I glance at my watch. It’s been five minutes and he hasn’t stormed out yet.
She’s delivered on her side of the deal. Now I have to deliver on mine.
I get out my mobile phone, feeling sick with dread. This is going to be hard. This is going to be really hard. I don’t know how Mum’s going to react. I don’t know what she’s going to say.
But the point is, whatever she says, however furious she gets, I know Mum and I will last. Mum and I are there for the duration.
Whereas this could be Luke’s only chance to reconcile with Elinor.
As I listen to the ringing tone, I stare out over the endless silvery blocks and towers of Manhattan. The sun’s glinting off one building, only to be reflected off another, just like Luke said. Backward and forward, never leaving. The yellow taxis are so far down they look like Tonka toys and the people scurrying about are like tiny insects. And there in the middle is the green rectangular form of Central Park, like a picnic rug laid down for the children to play on.
I gaze out, mesmerized by the sight. Did I really mean what I said to Elinor yesterday? Do I really want for Luke and me to leave this amazing city?
“Hello?” Mum’s voice breaks my thoughts, and my head jolts upward. For a moment I’m paralyzed with nerves. I can’t do this.
But I have to.
I have no choice.
“Hi, Mum,” I say at last, digging my nails into the palm of my hand. “It’s… it’s Becky. Listen, I’ve got something to tell you. And I’m afraid you’re not going to like it—”
MR. JAMES BRANDON
Ridge House
Ridgeway
North Fullerton
Devon
2 June 2002
Dear Becky,
We were a little bewildered by your phone call. Despite your assurances that all will be clear when you have explained it to us, and that we must trust you, we do not really understand what is going on.
However, James and I have talked long and hard and have at last decided to do as you ask. We have canceled our flights to New York and alerted the rest of the family.