Diana stood in front of the painting by Vermeer entitled ‘A Maid Asleep’, and suddenly felt rather tired. New York was exhausting. Rachel seemed to be on a mission to see everything before they left in three days. Diana was remembering why she avoided big cities. They were so full of people and she did find people rather irritating sometimes. They were even worse in cities. They were all in such a hurry to get somewhere, but never really managed it. She had become used to her own company over the past two years, out of necessity rather than choice, of course. But she had found that she didn’t mind it as much as she’d thought she would. She had friends and good ones at that, but, after a morning’s shopping or an evening at the theatre with them, she was always relieved to go home and lock the door behind her. She missed Edward, of course. She could hardly bear to express how much she missed him, but she knew he was with her. After he died, Emma had suggested that she go for grief counselling.
‘I do not need anyone telling me that I miss your father. And I don’t need anyone telling me how to manage my grief. It’s my grief and I shall deal with it as I see fit, thank you, Emma.’
Emma hadn’t brought up the subject again. Diana talked to Edward every day: to his picture or the chair he used to sit in. She didn’t tell a soul about this. They would have thought her mad or, worse still, tried to analyse why she was doing it. She didn’t care. It enabled her to cope with the fact that he wasn’t coming back. It was as simple as that.
She missed Edward now as she gazed up at the pictures. He would have had an interesting fact or two about Vermeer, possibly something fruity to make her laugh like a schoolgirl. She could imagine him leading her by the arm through the galleries, before going for tea in the café. He would have made it interesting for Lily too, instead of racing her past the myriad paintings as Rachel was doing, like a cultural spinning top.
Lily had declared the Jackson Pollocks to be ‘like something Alfie would paint’, and the Picassos to be ‘quite good’, which must have been a relief to the great man. She then decided that she would like to see the Christmas tree and then go to the gift shop. So Rachel had left her mother to potter through the galleries in her own time, agreeing that they would meet for lunch in an hour.
Diana watched as groups of tourists made their way through the galleries, pausing for a second or two at each painting. She decided that it might be time to move on and stood up ready to leave. She was just about to enter the next gallery when a voice called behind her.
‘Excuse me, ma’am?’
She turned to see a tall man of around her age coming towards her. Her first instinct was to ignore him but he was immaculately dressed in a suit and tie, complete with pocket handkerchief and tiepin. Appearance spoke volumes to Diana.
‘Yes?’ she replied.
‘You dropped this,’ said the man, holding up Diana’s blue chiffon scarf.
‘Oh. Oh, thank you,’ said Diana, feeling genuine gratitude, as the scarf had been a gift from Edward.
‘Do I detect an English accent?’ asked the man with a smile. The smile made him look suddenly younger and, even Diana would have to admit, rather handsome.
‘You do. I live in London,’ she replied, surprised at her own candour. She didn’t usually open up to strangers so quickly.
The man nodded. ‘Where are my manners? My name is George Allen. How do you do?’ he said, offering his hand.
Diana was taken aback but also charmed by his formal politeness. She shook his hand. ‘Diana Darcy.’
‘I’m very pleased to meet you, Diana. May I inquire if you’re on holiday here?’
‘I am, George. I’m visiting my daughter who works here.’
‘How wonderful. And are you enjoying our fine city?’
Diana considered this. Her usual reaction would be barbed or a little cutting, but this man seemed so kind. ‘I am beginning to.’
George laughed. ‘Yes, New York grows on you. It’s like a slow-burning love affair,’ he said, eyes twinkling.
‘Well, I’m just on my way to meet my other daughter and granddaughter in the café,’ said Diana, searching for the exit.
‘Well, may I say you look far too young to have grandchildren.’ George beamed. It was a corny line but said with such easy humour that Diana laughed. ‘I’m on my way to a function in that direction. Would you mind if I walked with you?’
‘Not at all,’ said Diana. And she meant it.
As they walked through the galleries George pointed out some of the paintings and why he liked them. Diana enjoyed listening to him. He wasn’t showing off; he was being companionable and this was something she had missed of late. As he held open the door to the café for Diana and accompanied her to where Lily was devouring a doughnut the size of her head, she felt strangely elevated, as if some force were carrying her. It was a very pleasant feeling. Rachel looked up in surprise at the pair of them.
‘Hello, Mum,’ said Rachel in an inquiring tone, smiling at George.
‘Rachel. Lily. This is George. He was just showing me some of the paintings,’ said Diana.
Rachel leaned over to shake hands with him. ‘It’s lovely to meet you,’ she said, thinking how she couldn’t wait to tell Emma that their mother had pulled an old boy at the Met.
‘And you,’ said George with a bow. ‘And you,’ he added, smiling at Lily, who gave him a huge, jammy grin in reply. ‘Well, I’m afraid I have to go to a boring old function now. Diana, it was a pleasure and if you need anything over the next few days, please do not hesitate to call me.’ He handed her his card.
‘I won’t. Thank you, George,’ said Diana.
As they watched him go Rachel nudged her mother. ‘Nice work, Mum. And he looks just like James Stewart.’
Diana looked at her daughter in surprise. ‘Don’t be vulgar, Rachel. I was merely passing the time of day, but, now you come to mention it, there was something of that great man about him,’ she said wistfully.
‘Is he your boyfriend, Granny?’ asked Lily, wiping her jammy face on her sleeve.
Diana gave her a reproachful look. ‘You’re as bad as your mother. Now give Granny a bite of that doughnut before I make you spend all afternoon looking at paintings!’
******
‘Honey, I’m home!’ cried Martin as he walked through the door of the apartment he shared with Emma. He pulled off his hat and gloves and shook himself out of his thick padded jacket. Emma emerged from the bedroom wearing a bathrobe, smiling at the sight of his handsome, grinning face.
‘You never tire of saying that, do you?’ She laughed, looking into his eyes and running a hand through his dark brown mussed-up hair.
‘Nope,’ he said, kissing her on the lips and trying to undo her bathrobe. ‘Now, I know we’ve got visitors for dinner tonight, but I did wonder if we might have time for a little amuse-bouche before they arrived,’ he added, leaning in to kiss her neck and work his way down her body.
‘I’m not sure we’ve got time,’ sighed Emma, pulling his face back towards hers and kissing him on the mouth.
‘There’s always time,’ murmured Martin, lifting her off the ground. She wrapped her legs around his body as he carried her into the bedroom.
The front door buzzer sounded with a volume and urgency that still made Emma jump every time. ‘Man, that thing’s loud,’ she said, leaping from the bed and giving Martin a playful shove.
‘Aww, no fair,’ he said with a pout.
‘Save it for later,’ said Emma with a wink.
She pressed the intercom. ‘Hello?’
‘Put your clothes on! We’re coming up,’ cried Rachel cheerily.
‘Ha ha. Push the door,’ replied Emma. She threw on some yoga pants, vest and a hoodie and went out into the corridor to welcome them. Lily shot up the stairs like an Exocet missile, closely followed by Rachel, who was out of breath by the time she reached her sister.
‘Granny’s got a boyfriend,’ chimed Lily, dancing over the threshold to find Martin.
Emma looked quizzically at Rachel, who was puffing like a steam engine, unable to speak. ‘Too many stairs,’ she breathed.
‘You need to do more exercise,’ declared Emma. ‘And what’s this about Mum having a boyfriend?’
‘He was just a very polite and decent man whom I happened to meet at the art gallery,’ said Diana, reaching the top of the stairs. ‘No one could ever replace your father,’ she added in a way that declared the subject to be closed.
Emma looked at Rachel, who gave a brief shake of her head and mouthed, ‘Later.’
‘And I don’t expect you to gossip about it later, thank you, Rachel.’
Rachel pulled a face and followed her mother into the apartment. Lily had already persuaded Martin to give her a bottle of Coke and taken up residency in front of the television.
‘Cocktail?’ asked Emma.
‘Don’t mind if I do.’ Rachel smiled.
‘Martin and I have been perfecting Cosmopolitans,’ said Emma.
‘I’ll be the judge of that,’ replied Rachel.
‘Mum? Want one?’
‘Why not?’ said Diana.
Two hours later, they were sitting around Emma and Martin’s tiny dining-room table, surrounded by empty Chinese food boxes, gazing out at the Manhattan view.
Rachel picked up a prawn cracker and munched it thoughtfully. ‘Dad would have loved this,’ she said.
‘He didn’t like sweet and sour as a rule,’ observed Diana.
‘I didn’t mean that, Mother,’ said Rachel before she noticed that Diana was smiling. ‘I meant this. Us. All together, here.’
‘He can see us,’ said Lily.
‘Can he?’ asked Rachel with genuine curiosity. ‘How do you know?’
Lily looked at her as if she’d just fallen out of the Stupid Tree. ‘Duh. I just know.’
Emma shrugged at Rachel. ‘Good enough for me.’
Emma’s laptop started to buzz. ‘What’s it doing?’ asked Diana suspiciously.
‘Will’s Skyping us,’ said Lily, approaching the machine and pressing a button to answer the call.
‘Is he indeed?’ said Diana, getting up from her chair and moving next to her granddaughter.
‘Hello, Will?’ shouted Lily.
‘I know he’s in England, Lily, but you don’t have to shout,’ said Rachel.
Lily ignored her. ‘Will? Is that you?’ she continued at the same volume.
The screen was black because someone was leaning in too close to the webcam. ‘Lils?’ came a squeaky voice. ‘Can you see me? It’s Alfie.’
‘Move back, you silly boy. You’re too close to the computer.’ Alfie did as he was told but he was still too close so that now all they could see was a rather unappealing close-up of his right nostril. Lily giggled.
‘Can you see me now?’ asked Alfie cheerfully. ‘I can see you, Lils, but you’re in a tiny little box.’
‘Best place for her, some might say,’ whispered Rachel to Emma.
‘I can see your bogies!’ sang Lily.
‘Don’t be so mean, Lils,’ said Rachel. ‘Alfie, sweetie, move back a little bit so that we can see your handsome face.’
Alfie moved back and smiled at them, his big blue eyes and moon-face making their hearts melt. ‘Aww, bless him,’ said Emma.
‘Can you see me now?’ he asked.
‘We can, darling. Are you all right?’ asked Rachel.
Alfie nodded. ‘I miss you,’ he said, his small face a picture of sadness. ‘When are you coming home?’
Emma and Rachel exchanged rueful glances, but Alfie’s melancholy was interrupted as Will appeared next to him with Steve waving in the background.
‘Hey, Will,’ said Rachel, feeling homesick.
‘Hi, Mum,’ said Will.
‘How are you all?’
‘We’re fine, aren’t we, boys?’ said Steve from the background. ‘Are you having a good time?’
‘We’re having the best time ever,’ gushed Lily. ‘We went to this massive toy shop and I got a Hello Kitty make-up set and we’re going to a party and Cameron Soul’s going to be there.’
‘Cool, Lils. That sounds really cool. We can’t wait to see you and hear all about it.’ Steve smiled. Rachel had an urge to reach out to her three boys. They looked so perfect sitting in their kitchen, grinning at her. It wasn’t always like this, of course, but at this moment she loved them more than anything in the world.
‘Can I talk to Alfie on his own?’ asked Lily suddenly.
‘Okay,’ said Rachel. ‘See you boys soon. I love you,’ said Rachel.
‘Love you too, darling,’ said Steve. Will muttered something approximating love and disappeared from view.
‘Well, we better clear up and get back to the hotel,’ said Rachel as she helped Emma and Martin carry the empty takeaway cartons to the kitchen.
‘Thanks,’ said Emma.
‘For the record, little sis,’ said Rachel as she ran a sink full of hot, soapy water, ‘I’m really glad it’s worked out for you here with Martin.’
‘Me too.’ Emma grinned. ‘And for you and Steve.’
‘You live and learn, eh?’
‘You do indeed.’
Rachel walked back into the living-room to collect the last few plates for washing. Lily was leaning in very close to the computer and, back in England, Alfie was doing the same. Rachel glanced over at her mother, who was watching and smiling. Rachel had to lean in to hear what Lily was telling her brother.
‘I love you, Bud, and I wish you were here. I’ve bought you a big Christmas present,’ she was whispering. She glanced round at that moment and spotted her mother. ‘Anyway, Loser. I’ve got to go. See you. Wouldn’t want to be you,’ she cried.
‘Bye, Lils. Love you,’ said Alfie in blissful ignorance before carefully pressing the ‘end call’ button.
Rachel looked at Diana. ‘Just like her mother,’ said Diana with a knowing smile.