Alice-Miranda In New York 5 (19 page)

Alice-Miranda barely saw her mother over the next few days. And when she did, Cecelia was so busy on the telephone and running up and down to the store that there never seemed a right time to tell her about their discovery at the library. Her father still wasn't back, either. And school was different too. There should have been four friends and now there were only three. It was all a little off balance. Alice-Miranda enjoyed Mr Underwood's lessons and she had fun with Quincy and Ava, but Lucinda should have been there.

Alice-Miranda had written to her every day, but so far there was no reply. She wondered if the letters were even getting to Lucinda at all. She had asked Mrs Oliver for some plain paper and envelopes rather than her usual embossed stationery. Ava and Quincy didn't have Lucinda's telephone number and when Alice-Miranda asked Miss Cleary, the receptionist told her that she wasn't allowed to hand over private information.

Mrs Oliver met Alice-Miranda every afternoon after school and together they explored the city. They'd been to Staten Island and Ground Zero, across the Brooklyn Bridge and to tea with the storybook character Eloise from
Eloise at the Plaza
. Alice-Miranda loved their adventures and she was pretty sure Mrs Oliver was going to relent sooner or later and take a ride in a pedicab.

Alice-Miranda was finishing off her and Lucinda's Science project.

‘That's looking good,' Felix Underwood commented.

‘Thank you, Mr Underwood. I just wish Lucinda was here,' Alice-Miranda replied.

Felix sighed. ‘Sometimes rich people are really hard to figure out.'

‘Why do you say rich people?' Alice-Miranda asked. ‘I'd have thought all people can be a little perplexing at times.'

‘I suppose I look at someone like Morrie Finkelstein: he has everything a man could possibly want and more, and he's so bitter and angry. He doesn't appreciate that he has a great daughter and more money and opportunities than anyone has a right to. I just don't understand. If I had heaps of money, I'd rather use it to help other people than keep it all hoarded away for me.'

‘I see what you mean, Mr Underwood. Mummy and Daddy say that being wealthy is a huge responsibility and we should never take anything for granted,' said Alice-Miranda, nodding her head.

‘It sounds like your parents have their heads screwed on exactly the right way.' Felix grinned at his youngest student. ‘So,' he said, ‘are you game to look after Maisy again at the park today?'

Alice-Miranda glanced over at Ava and Quincy who were arguing over whether Jupiter or Saturn was closest to the sun.

‘Why not? I'm pretty sure I've got that dog's measure now,' Alice-Miranda smiled.

The bell rang for the start of lunch and Alice-Miranda trotted downstairs to get Maisy's lead and accessories.

‘You're not really taking her out again, are you?' said Miss Cleary, as she reluctantly handed over the goods.

‘I'll be fine, Miss Cleary. Truly. I know what sets her off and I'm almost certain I won't have the same problem again this time.'

Ava and Quincy were horrified when Alice-Miranda met them at the cafeteria and told them her plans.

‘But what about Thea?' Ava asked. ‘She's got it in for you, Alice-Miranda, and one “s” word and Crazy Maisy will be off.'

‘I don't think I have to worry about Thea,' Alice-Miranda replied.

‘Why? Is she away?' Quincy asked.

‘No, she's here,' Alice-Miranda said.

As always, Maisy was at the back door with her tail on high speed dusting the walls and everything else in her path. Alice-Miranda clipped the lead onto her collar.

‘Now, Miss Maisy, are we going to have a good time at the park today?' Alice-Miranda bent down
and looked into the labrador's big brown eyes.

Maisy frowned.

‘I think you know exactly what I just said.'

Maisy's tongue shot out and she slobbered on Alice-Miranda's cheek.

‘Yuck.' She wiped her face with a tissue.

‘Hi there.' Gretchen walked over and scratched Maisy between the ears.

‘Hi Gretchen. You know, if you keep doing that, she'll be your friend for life,' Alice-Miranda said as Maisy began to drool all over the floor. ‘Where's Thea?'

‘She's just gone to get her sweater,' Gretchen replied. ‘Thanks for telling me all that stuff the other day. It explained a lot and well, you know, she's not all bad.'

‘I know that,' Alice-Miranda grinned. ‘Nobody is.'

Thea appeared and the two girls split apart.

‘What are you doing with that dog?' Thea narrowed her eyes. ‘She'd better not come anywhere near me.'

‘Well, I'm sure that nobody is going to do anything to upset her,' said Gretchen, glaring at Alethea. ‘Are they?'

‘No, and why are you looking at me like that, Gretchen? I thought we were friends,' Alethea said.

Gretchen was stern. ‘We
are
friends, Thea. I'd say I'm your best friend. And I'd really like it to stay that way.'

Alice-Miranda laughed as Gretchen and Alethea squabbled the whole way to the park.

L
ucinda had been imprisoned at home for four days. Her father had employed a tutor, Miss Hinkley, who arrived each morning at nine and departed by three. Lessons were taken in the study attached to Lucinda's bedroom and while Miss Hinkley was nice enough, Lucinda had no desire to befriend the young woman, in case she might think the job was permanent.

Each afternoon, Lucinda's mother would appear and insist that she put on a dress so they could go and visit one or another of her awful friends and their hideous daughters. Lucinda despised
those outings but her mother insisted that they may make her father feel better about sending her back to school.

Gerda poked her head into the room. ‘Lucinda, please meet me downstairs in five minutes.'

Lucinda didn't answer. She walked into her wardrobe and put on the dress Dolores had selected earlier in the day. She scraped her hair into a ponytail, cursing the springy curls that escaped around her face, and went downstairs.

Her mother was already in the car. Gerda leaned forward and spoke to their driver, Raymond, in hushed tones.

‘Are you sure, ma'am?' Lucinda heard him reply.

‘Very,' Gerda replied.

‘As you wish.' Raymond looked at Gerda in the rear-vision mirror.

Lucinda's eyes were fixed on the street outside the gates. She watched the children bounding along with their friends on the way home from school.

Most of her mother's friends lived uptown, so Lucinda was surprised when Raymond didn't make a left turn into one of the cross-streets but instead headed downtown, past East 75th and further down
past Highton's. But she didn't ask. Her mother likely had some errand to run.

She looked out the window at all the people in the city going about their business. It was strange to live in such a big place and not really know it.

The car continued through Midtown and into the lower part of Manhattan. Lucinda had really begun to wonder about their destination; she couldn't remember travelling this far downtown in her life.

‘Mama,' she said finally, ‘where are we going?'

Gerda Finkelstein looked at her daughter. ‘To see a friend.'

‘Who?' Lucinda asked as the limousine headed towards the Brooklyn Bridge.

‘Just someone I need to see,' Gerda replied.

Lucinda wasn't accustomed to her mother behaving so mysteriously. Her tummy began to flutter.

‘It's all right. You don't need to come in with me,' said Gerda, sensing her daughter's unease.

The limousine weaved its way off the Brooklyn Bridge and into the suburbs before pulling up outside a row of brownstone buildings. A curtain moved slightly and Lucinda wondered who was looking at them. Her mother gathered her handbag and moved to the door, which Raymond opened
for her.

‘I won't be long.' Gerda patted her daughter on the knee.

‘Can I come?' Lucinda blurted. ‘I don't want to stay out here on my own.'

‘Raymond will be here,' her mother replied. ‘But if you want to, yes, you can come.'

Lucinda followed her mother out of the car and onto the street. Gerda walked up the short flight of steps and rang the buzzer. The door opened. A rail-thin woman wearing a headscarf stepped out onto the porch. Lucinda stayed behind on the pavement.

‘Oh my heavens, is it really you?' It sounded like the woman had something caught in her throat.

‘Yes. It's me, Louisa,' Gerda replied. ‘May we come in?' Gerda motioned for Lucinda to join her.

‘You must be Lucinda,' the woman said. ‘Last time I saw you, you were so small. I nursed you in my arms.'

‘Lucinda, this is Louisa,' Gerda said.

‘Hello,' said Lucinda.

‘Please come, come in. I'll make us some tea.'

Lucinda noticed that Louisa walked with a limp. She and her mother were led down a hallway
and into a small sitting room.

‘I hoped you'd come.' Louisa glanced at a tea tray laden with cups and saucers and a small plate of cakes sitting in the middle of the coffee table. ‘I'll just boil the kettle and fill the pot.'

Louisa hurried off to the kitchen. Gerda motioned for Lucinda to sit down on one of the floral sofas.

‘How do you know each other, Mummy?' Lucinda looked at her mother, who was studying some photographs on the wall.

‘We were friends a long time ago,' said Gerda.

‘But why haven't I met Louisa before?' Lucinda asked.

Gerda opened her mouth to reply when Louisa re-entered the sitting room. She busied herself making two cups of tea and then asked Lucinda if she would like one too.

Lucinda shook her head. ‘No, thank you.'

‘I wasn't sure if children drank tea so I've got some juice. Would you like that?' Louisa asked.

‘Yes, please,' Lucinda replied.

Louisa handed Lucinda a glass of orange juice and sat down beside the child on the sofa opposite
Gerda.

The two women sipped their tea. Lucinda grew increasingly aware of the uneasy silence between them.

Finally, it was Gerda who spoke first.

‘How are you, really?' she asked.

‘Well,' said Louisa, the corners of her mouth turning up just a little, ‘apart from losing my hair and feeling as though my mind has gone with it most days, I'm okay.'

‘I didn't know you were so ill,' Gerda started. ‘I would have come.'

‘I know you would have but I didn't want you to get into trouble. Knowing how he feels about me, that last time at the house with Lucinda . . . He was so mad. I just didn't want to put you in that position again. I can't really believe that you're here now.' Louisa placed her teacup back onto the saucer with a sharp chink.

Lucinda watched this exchange, not knowing what to make of it.

‘But there's not much time left and I didn't want to go without saying goodbye.' Louisa's blue eyes filled with tears.

Gerda Finkelstein stifled a sob. She put down her teacup, walked over to Louisa and put her arms around
her. Louisa stood and the two women embraced as though their very being depended on it.

Lucinda didn't quite know what to do. She felt like an intruder. This was a part of her mother's life she knew nothing about and now she was watching something unfold that she felt she had no right to see.

‘Mama,' Lucinda whispered. ‘Would you like me to go and wait in the car?'

It was Louisa who spoke first. She looked up at Lucinda, her mascara tracking down her face.

‘Please, Lucinda, I'd like to spend a little bit of time with you, if I may. It would make me very happy.'

Lucinda nodded.

Her mother sat back down and Louisa patted the seat beside her, beckoning for Lucinda to move closer. The gangly child did as she was asked.

‘You're going to be a very tall girl,' Louisa observed. ‘And I see you've inherited your father's lovely curls.'

Lucinda pulled a face and a handful of hair. ‘Believe me, there is nothing lovely about this hair. My brothers are so lucky. They take after Mummy and I've just got this terrible frizz,' Lucinda
griped.

Louisa smiled. ‘Well I can remember when you were just a wee little thing and you had the most delicious curls. They flopped in your face and you were forever pulling them. I gave you some hairclips with stars on them and you used to wear them all the time.'

Lucinda frowned. ‘I've still got them. I've got this long piece of ribbon with all my hairclips attached and the stars are right at the top. I love them.'

‘Oh, I am glad. So I've been part of your life all along and you haven't even known it,' Louisa said, and reached for her teacup.

‘But why haven't we seen you?' Lucinda asked.

Gerda Finkelstein sighed. ‘Because your mother has been a stupid fool and I've let your father tell me what to do for more years than I care to remember.'

Lucinda wondered if she had heard her mother correctly.

‘Lucinda, Louisa was my best friend in the world before I married your father,' Gerda began.