Alice-Miranda sat in the back of the limousine as it snaked its way from Teterboro Airport to the city.

‘Oh, Daddy, we can’t be far now!’ she exclaimed as the car approached the signpost for the Lincoln Tunnel.

‘No, not far, but I suspect the traffic in the city could slow us down a little,’ her father replied.

‘But it’s not bad at all,’ said Alice-Miranda as the car sped through the tunnel and emerged onto West 38th Street and straight into a bank-up of cars a mile long.

‘Oh, I think I spoke too soon.’ Alice-Miranda stared wide-eyed out of the window at the lights of Manhattan. On the flight she and her parents had made lots of plans about the places they would visit and sights they wanted to see. She’d made Mrs Oliver promise to come with them as often as she could, too.

‘Look at all those yellow taxis, Mummy,’ Alice-Miranda observed as their car turned into Sixth Avenue, heading towards Central Park. As far as the eye could see, yellow cabs clogged the street, peppered with black town cars. ‘Does anyone drive their own car in New York?’ Alice-Miranda was trying to spot other vehicles among the bumblebee-coloured swarm.

‘No, most New Yorkers don’t bother with a car. There’s hardly any parking and what there is costs a king’s ransom,’ her father replied.

A group of pedicabs darted by, weaving their way in and out of the traffic, their young drivers shouting offers of cheap rides to the pedestrians on the footpaths.

‘That looks like fun. Are you game, Mrs Oliver?’ Alice-Miranda pointed at the bicycles with their pedestrian carts behind.

‘Count me out, my dear,’ Dolly replied, shaking her head. ‘I prefer my arms and legs attached.’

‘Excuse me, Mr O’Leary, do you know what the hold-up is?’ Alice-Miranda asked the uniformed driver.

The kindly man glanced at Alice-Miranda in the rear-vision mirror and said in his lovely Irish lilt, ‘Oh lass, this is just the regular Saturday night. This place never stops, you know. Three o’clock in the morning and there are still thousands on the streets.’

‘It’s electric!’ Alice-Miranda bubbled. ‘There’s something about this city. I can’t wait to start school on Monday.’

‘I know Jilly is looking forward to it too,’ Cecelia replied.

For the next month or so, Alice-Miranda would be attending Mrs Kimmel’s School for Girls, on East 75th Street. The headmistress just happened to be an old friend of Cecelia’s from her own school days. With a diplomat father, Jilly Hobbs grew up attending schools in several different countries before returning to the United States to go to college. Jilly had made a career teaching girls in New York City and was now headmistress of the prestigious Mrs Kimmel’s.

The car continued up Sixth Avenue and into Central Park.

‘Oh, Mummy, look at the carriages. Aren’t the horses beautiful? Can we ride in one? Please?’ Alice-Miranda begged.

‘Don’t you remember? We did that last time we were here,’ her mother replied.

‘Yes, but that was when I was only four,’ Alice-Miranda reminded her. ‘And now I’m almost eight.’

‘Of course,’ her mother smiled. ‘It doesn’t seem that long since we last came together but, yes, you’re right.’

The car wound its way through Central Park, exiting at the 65th Street Transverse and crossing Fifth Avenue. Veiled in scaffolding, Highton’s department store took up the entire block between East 64th and East 65th, with its frontage on Fifth Avenue. A grand set of gates at the rear of the building opened automatically. Hidden behind the gothic facade, a circular driveway led through a formal garden and spiralled downwards. Another set of elaborate metal gates, adorned with cherubs and vines and other creatures among the ironwork, slid open to reveal a private parking garage and equally decorative subterranean entrance to the building.

‘Well, here we are.’ Cecelia Highton-Smith slid forward and gathered her handbag and jacket. Seamus O’Leary held open the door as the group alighted from the vehicle.

‘Good evening all.’ An impeccably dressed man emerged from the entrance. He had a shock of wavy white hair and wore a red polka dot bow tie.

‘Mr Gruber!’ Alice-Miranda raced towards the gentleman and immediately launched herself at his middle.

He lifted her up in one swift action and Alice-Miranda gave him a smacking great kiss on the cheek.

‘Oh, my dear girl, you do make an old man happy.’ Gilbert Gruber put Alice-Miranda back down. ‘I think you are just the tonic I’ve needed.’

‘I’m so excited to be here, Mr Gruber. I’m starting school on Monday and then Mummy and Daddy are going to take me all over the city after school and we’re going to ride the subway and pedicabs and have the best time ever and I think Mrs Oliver might even let me eat hot dogs from the street stalls and giant pretzels and we’re going to the Museum of Natural History and the Met and I don’t remember where else but I’m not going to waste a minute.’

‘Whew! I’m tired just hearing it,’ Gilbert grinned.

Cecelia Highton-Smith greeted the old man with a kiss on each cheek. He embraced Mrs Oliver like a long-lost friend and firmly shook Hugh’s hand.

‘How are you, Gil?’ Hugh Kennington-Jones slapped the old man on the back.

‘Well, I have to be honest, Hugh, I think this renovation has almost done me in. I suspect that daughter of yours will give me just the boost I need, although I might require a vacation once you’ve gone.’

The group laughed.

‘I imagine you’d like to head straight upstairs?’ Mr Gruber offered.

‘Actually, Gilbert, I wondered if you might give Hugh and me a quick tour. I’m dying to see what you’ve done with the ground floor since I was last here,’ Cecelia Highton-Smith suggested. ‘Dolly, why don’t you take Alice-Miranda upstairs and get her settled.’

‘May I come with you instead, Mummy?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

Dolly Oliver nodded at Cecelia. ‘I’ll go up and put the kettle on.’

‘All right, we won’t be long,’ Cecelia smiled.

‘Are you sure you don’t want to wait until Monday?’ Gilbert asked Cecelia.

‘No, of course not,’ she shook her head. ‘It can’t be that bad.’

The old man frowned. He led the family through a long hallway and up a short flight of steps. Gilbert pushed open a large door and spread out in front of them was a muddle of counters, boxes, signage and general disarray. Lights not yet attached to the ceiling dangled from long cables and there seemed to be a whole wall of plasterboard missing.

Down among the muddle, the high-pitched whine of a drill started up.

‘Goodness, someone’s working late,’ Alice-Miranda said.

A head popped up from beside a counter.

‘Haven’t you got a home to go to George?’ Gilbert joked with the young man.

The man seemed startled. ‘Oh, hello Mr Gruber. I . . . I just thought I’d get a couple of things done before heading off,’ he called back.

‘George, you know Cecelia, of course,’ Gilbert began, ‘and this is her husband Hugh and daughter Alice-Miranda.’

‘Hello.’ The fellow waved. Alice-Miranda and her father waved back.

‘George is Tony’s site foreman,’ Gilbert explained. ‘I think that man works harder than anyone.’

George held his drill aloft. ‘If you don’t mind.’

‘Of course not. Don’t let us hold you up,’ Gilbert replied. He turned to Cecelia and noticed that her face had drained of colour. ‘It’s a work in progress, Cee,’ he said gently.

She gave a clenched smile.

‘Is that what you call it, Gil? I’d say it’s a dirty great mess,’ Hugh laughed.

‘I’m sure it will come together,’ Alice-Miranda said and slipped her hand into her mother’s.

‘I hope so,’ Cecelia whispered.

‘Don’t worry, dear. You know we’ll get there,’ Gilbert reassured her.

‘Let’s go upstairs, Mummy. You look like you could do with a cup of tea.’

The four of them walked back through the large door and into the private corridor towards the elevator.

‘Tony assures me that George will have all trades on deck first thing Monday, and I guarantee you won’t know the place by the afternoon,’ Gilbert said.

‘I’m not concerned,’ Cecelia protested. ‘Really, I’m not.’

‘Then what are those?’ Hugh reached out and touched his wife’s forehead. ‘They look like worry lines to me.’

‘Don’t be silly.’ Cecelia smiled and the lines disappeared. ‘Goodnight Gilbert,’ she said and kissed the old man.

‘Goodnight all,’ he replied.

Alice-Miranda reached out and pressed the elevator button. There was only one option for the carriage they stood in front of: P for penthouse.