Alice-Miranda In New York 5 (18 page)

Morrie Finkelstein sat at his desk. A triumphant smile was plastered across his face. This was going to be his year, Finkelstein's year. The year that he proved he could make more money than any other store in the city. He would finally be number one, exactly where he belonged.

Everything was falling into place. He'd enjoyed seeing Cecelia Highton-Smith begging him to leave her suppliers alone. Not likely. Morrie had revelled in his game of Chinese Whispers. The Highton's renovation had only ever been a couple of weeks behind but Morrie couldn't help spreading some rumours that
he thought they had ‘problems'. Highton's couldn't keep people locked into contracts for ever, could they? He'd made some interesting contacts in the past few months at City Hall too, and he couldn't believe how easy it had been to convince that stupid builders' foreman to make some extra cash. Morrie frowned as he recalled an uncomfortable moment earlier in the day; when he met Cecelia Highton-Smith at the store, that young idiot walked right up and said hello. The man was getting a little above his station, Morrie thought to himself. He needed to terminate that arrangement – and soon.

Framed photographs of Morrie's forebears lined the walls of his office. Abe Finkelstein would have had it all if Horace Highton hadn't reneged on their deal at the last minute. Morrie unlocked his desk drawer and pulled out a small tin box with charred corners. He sat it on the desk and turned the tiny key. A faded scrap of paper was all that remained of Abe Finkelstein's worldly goods. Morrie's father and grandfather had passed it down through the family, their proof that the Hightons were never to be trusted.

Morrie scanned the paper. Half of a letter, horribly smudged and torn down the middle. But
Morrie knew what it meant.

I cannot believe

the events that have unfolded

To have all that I have cared

snatched away from me

It is the ultimate act of betrayal

and cannot be forgiven

Horace . . . my trusted aide

my friend and confidant

never again . . . such evil

It was Finkelstein family folklore that Horace Highton had signed the papers at the bank on his own, cutting Abe out of the deal. Morrie's great-grandfather had been caught completely off guard and the poor man had a breakdown and spent a couple of months in a mental asylum. When he got out of the hospital, Abe found the land on Park Avenue and a wealthy backer, and started his own store. He had married a sturdy lass called Marjory Tannenbaum, had two children, and then died in a mysterious fire that tore through the store one evening. Rumours circulated that Horace Highton might have had something to do with it, but it was never proven. Of course,
that just added fuel to the already bitter feud. The Hightons would always be the Finkelsteins' enemies, no matter how many stunts Cecelia and her little daughter pulled.

Despite what his own daughter thought, Morrie hadn't enjoyed pulling her out of school. But she had to understand what it meant to be a Finkelstein. He was protecting her. She'd only be hurt. Everyone knew that the Hightons hated the Finkelsteins. It was a fact of life, like breathing.

Alice-Miranda and Dolly Oliver arrived home armed with some remarkable findings.

‘Mummy, are you here?' Alice-Miranda called as the lift opened into the hallway. ‘Daddy, are you home?'

But the apartment was silent.

‘Come along, dear, why don't you go and have a bath and hop into your pyjamas and I'll make us something to eat. I'm sure your parents will be home soon enough.'

‘I wish I had Lucinda's telephone number.' Alice-Miranda looked at Dolly. ‘I have to tell her what we found out.'

‘I don't think Morrie Finkelstein would appreciate your call, dear, and I suspect the Finkelsteins would have a private number anyway. Perhaps you could write to her instead.'

Alice-Miranda nodded. ‘That's exactly what I'll do. And then I'll write some more postcards to Millie and Jacinta and everyone back at school as well.'

‘After your bath, all right?' Dolly instructed.

Alice-Miranda nodded and ran to her room.

Dolly walked through the hall and into the kitchen where she saw the light on the telephone blinking. She pressed the button to listen to the messages.

‘Hello Dolly, hello darling, Mummy here. I'm so sorry but I've got to entertain some important suppliers tonight. Morrie Finkelstein has done some serious damage this afternoon. He's very cross with me. I think I made a big mistake telling him that you and Lucinda were friends and now he's even more determined to ruin us. But don't worry – Mummy's made of sterner stock than that. I hope you had a lovely afternoon with Dolly. Now run a
bath and hop into your PJs and I'm sure that Dolly will make you something yummy to eat. Love you. Oh, and Daddy's joining me a little later. He had some business back at the store so he won't need any supper either.'

Dolly opened the refrigerator and pulled out four eggs.

‘Boiled eggs and toasty soldiers will do us just fine this evening,' she said to herself.

She took a saucepan from the drawer and was filling it with water when the telephone rang.

‘Hello, Dolly Oliver speaking,' she answered. ‘Hello Ambrose, dear, how wonderful to hear from you. Yes, yes, all going well. Keeping very busy. And what about you?' Dolly pulled up a stool and settled in for a long chat.

Alice-Miranda decided against a bath and instead hopped into the shower for a quick scrub. She dried herself off, pulled on her pyjamas and shoved her feet into her slippers. Outside her bedroom she saw that there was a light on in her father's study and wondered if he had arrived home while she was in the shower.

She skipped to the end of the corridor and knocked gently on the door.

‘Daddy,' she called. ‘Are you there?' Alice-Miranda
turned the handle and poked her head inside. Her father was nowhere to be seen. She was about to leave when something caught her eye. It looked like a letter and it was lying untidily in the middle of the floor as if perhaps her father had dropped it on his way out. She opened the door and walked inside, scooped the letter up and placed it carefully on the vast desk beside an ancient leather-bound book. She couldn't help noticing a couple of notes, in her father's own handwriting, hastily scrawled onto a notepad.

Painting in Met – how did it get there?

Xavier alive?

Where is he?

And there was a newspaper cutting too. Alice-Miranda picked it up. It was a death notice for Arabella Grace Kennington-Jones and Xavier Edward Kennington-Jones. Her grandmother and uncle.

Her mind buzzed. Xavier had been killed in the same accident that had claimed her granny, hadn't he? But why did her father write
Xavier alive?
She wondered if it was possible that her father's brother wasn't dead after all these years.

Alice-Miranda ran her fingers over the leather-
bound book beside her father's note. She opened the cover. Tucked inside was another much smaller book.

‘Wow!' Alice-Miranda exclaimed to herself. ‘That's beautiful.' She studied the illustrations closely, smiling at the surprising details.

Something tugged at Alice-Miranda's memory.

‘Oh my goodness!'

It was no wonder her father had been so distracted these past few days. Alice-Miranda bit her lip. It seemed that everyone had a mystery to be solved.

The next morning, after a dream-filled sleep, Alice-Miranda awoke to find her mother had already left the apartment for work and her father had apparently flown home on some urgent Kennington's business.

‘Your mother's quite beside herself,' Dolly Oliver announced as she placed a mountain of scrambled eggs and crispy bacon on Alice-Miranda's plate. ‘And who knows if your father will even get back in time for the opening?'

‘Poor Mummy,' the tiny child sighed. ‘It's not fair that Mr Finkelstein should make her life so complicated.'

‘Well, your mother feels terrible that she's not here for you either, my dear. She was wondering if you might be better off going back to Winchesterfield-Downsfordvale.'

Alice-Miranda shook her head. ‘That's silly. I love Mrs Kimmel's and there's still so much of the city I haven't seen and we've only got another week or so. You don't mind keeping me company in the afternoons, do you?'

‘Good heavens, dear, not at all, although you must remember that even with my new Bollywood fitness regime, I'm still not as young as I once was,' said Dolly Oliver, smiling down at her young charge.

‘Besides, I've got to help Lucinda. Hopefully what we found out yesterday about Ruby Winters might make Mr Finkelstein see that there's absolutely no point at all to his feud with Mummy. I mean, it's really too stupid for words,' Alice-Miranda babbled.

‘Well, your mother will be pleased that you're not upset with her,' said Dolly as she buttered some toast.

Alice-Miranda couldn't imagine there was a reason to be upset with her mother at all.

‘Come along, dear, stop talking and start eating or you'll be late for school,' Dolly instructed.

Lucinda Finkelstein was tired of crying. Her face was a patchwork of red and she shuddered with every breath. When she and her father had arrived home yesterday he locked her in her room and told her that she was a traitor.

Morrie had forbidden Gerda from spending any time with Lucinda either, telling his wife that ‘the child needs to understand what it means to be loyal'.

Gerda had begged Morrie to at least let her take Lucinda her evening meal but he wouldn't allow it, instead timing Dolores's visits in and out to deposit a plate of goulash and some bread, both of which were returned uneaten to the kitchen.

Morrie had arranged for his personal assistant to interview several tutors this morning.

Lucinda dragged herself out of bed and shuffled to the window, peering through the drapes as
her father's car disappeared into the traffic on Fifth Avenue.

Almost at the same time, a key turned in the lock and her mother entered the room.

‘Lucinda,' Gerda spoke gently from the doorway.

Lucinda didn't reply.

‘I'm sorry, Lucinda. I wanted to come last night but your father wouldn't allow it,' Gerda sniffed.

‘I don't care, Mama,' Lucinda snapped.

Gerda walked over to where Lucinda was standing at the window. She put her hand on her daughter's shoulder.

Lucinda recoiled. ‘Don't touch me!'

Gerda withdrew her hand and hovered behind her. ‘Your father is . . .'

‘Insane,' Lucinda whispered.

‘Lucinda! He just wants the best for you.'

‘No, he doesn't. He doesn't know anything about me. He treats me like I'm a possession, not a person. He might as well sell me at the store. And you never stick up for me. What sort of a mother allows her daughter to be treated like . . . goods?' Lucinda turned and faced her mother.

Gerda's lips quivered. ‘The same mother who can't even stick up for herself.'

‘I'm going back to school, Mama,' Lucinda announced.

‘No! You mustn't. Lucinda, I will do my best to speak to your father, I promise, but please don't do anything to make the situation worse. I beg you.' Gerda's face was now streaked with tears. ‘He'll calm down in a week or two and then I'm sure you can go back. When is the Highton child leaving?'

‘What's that got to do with anything? Alice-Miranda is my friend and, yes, she is leaving soon but what about Quincy and Ava? Father forbids me to have anything to do with them too,' Lucinda said.

‘Yes, but I'm sure things can go back to the way they used to be. Your father didn't make such a fuss about them. I've known for a long time that you played with Ava and Quincy at school and I did my best to keep it from him. It's just that yesterday when Cecelia Highton-Smith told him that you and her daughter had become such good friends, he was so mad. I've never seen him like that before. Well, not for a long time,' Gerda explained. ‘I don't understand him either, at times.'

‘Alice-Miranda is the kindest person I've ever met, Mama. I don't understand why we can't be friends.
She said herself that we probably have more in common than anyone. Father might be able to keep me locked up now, but just wait, as soon as I'm old enough I'm leaving and then I will never, ever be back. Is that what he wants?' Lucinda threw herself onto her bed.

‘Of course not, darling,' said Gerda, sitting down beside her.

‘Please leave me alone, Mama,' Lucinda breathed into her pillow. ‘Just go!'

Gerda Finkelstein stood up. How did she ever let it all get this far? Things had to change and fast, for everyone's sakes.