Alice-Miranda In New York 5 (2 page)

T
he next two days flew by. Alice-Miranda made sure that she said goodbye to all her friends and promised to write every week. On Saturday morning she did a sweep of the campus to say some final farewells and then, followed by a group of well-wishers, she walked out of the boarding house to meet her parents. Alice-Miranda was tingling with excitement about the trip.

It seemed almost the entire school had gathered to see her off, despite her protests that they would hardly have time to miss her and she'd be back before they knew it. ‘Goodbye,' Alice-Miranda called
through the open window of the back seat of her family's silver Range Rover.

A rowdy chorus of ‘goodbye, farewell,
au revoir
and travel safely' rang out from the assembled crowd as the car crunched down the long gravel driveway.

‘You know, I must be the luckiest girl in the whole world,' Alice-Miranda informed her parents as her father turned onto the main road. ‘I have the most wonderful friends and WinchsterfieldDownsfordvale truly is the most beautiful school – oh, and look at this.' She pulled a tiny guidebook from her pocket. ‘Mr Grump gave it to me. It's got a map and loads of information about the city.'

Cecelia Highton-Smith leaned around to look at her daughter.

‘That's lovely, darling. You know, I think I'm the luckiest mother in the world to have you all to myself for four whole weeks. It's perfect. You'll be at school from eight until three-fifteen and then Daddy and I plan to meet you every afternoon and we can explore the city together.'

‘But won't you have to be at the shop, Mummy?' Alice-Miranda asked.

‘Well, we're scheduling as many meetings as possible during school hours, so I hope we can get
away, but if I'm caught up, Daddy should be okay to play tourist. There would have been no reason to drag you halfway around the world if we couldn't spend time with you, darling,' her mother replied.

The ‘shop', Highton's on Fifth Avenue, was renowned as one of the world's most beautiful department stores and considered the jewel in the Highton's empire. Alice-Miranda's great-greatgrandfather, Horace Highton, had been a visionary man, establishing three stores in his lifetime. Over ninety years the business had grown to twenty-five stores in major cities around the globe.

For the past six months, the New York store had been closed for business while undergoing a complete renovation. Cecelia had been back and forth several times and she and Hugh had decided to take Alice-Miranda with them in the lead-up to the reopening. Their trip had been brought forward a couple of weeks due to some unexpected hiccups.

‘I doubt I'll be needed terribly much at all,' Hugh Kennington-Jones added. ‘Gilbert and your mother will have everything under control. The building works are nearly complete and the schedule is, well,
almost
back on track.'

‘What are you going to do when I'm at school,
then, Daddy?' Alice-Miranda asked.

‘I thought I might do some research,' her father replied.

‘Research?' Cecelia raised her eyebrows. ‘On what?'

‘Just a bit of history,' Hugh replied.

‘It says here that there are hundreds of museums in New York City so that should keep you very busy, Daddy.'

Cecelia's phone rang. She retrieved it from her handbag and answered the call.

‘Hello Gil, yes, we're just on our way now. Really? That's very odd. Did Tony know anything about it? Okay, see you soon,' Cecelia rang off.

‘Something the matter? Hugh asked.

‘That was Gilbert. Apparently the toilet suites for the ladies' powder rooms mysteriously arrived at Highton's Chicago this morning so now they won't get to the store until after the weekend. Just another hold-up,' she sighed.

‘What did Tony have to say about it all?' Hugh asked.

‘He couldn't understand it. He placed the order himself.' Cecelia shook her head.

‘Who's Tony, Mummy?' Alice-Miranda asked.

‘He's our building contractor, darling. He oversaw all the renovations to the apartment a few years back and he's marvellous. But I can't help thinking there is something strange going on over there.'

‘What do you mean, Mummy?'

‘There have been so many problems getting things finished off. Deliveries going astray, tradesmen who were booked not turning up, just general confusion, actually. Poor Gilbert needs as much support as I can give him,' Cecelia said, frowning.

‘Is Mr Gruber all right?' Alice-Miranda was asking after Gilbert Gruber, the General Manager of Highton's on Fifth. ‘He's so adorable. I loved it when he came to stay last Christmas. He and Granny are such fun together.'

‘He says that he's fine but I know this refurbishment has tested his patience. There are so many regulations with the building and on top of the strange happenings at the store he's had difficulties with the city authorities over the most ridiculous things,' Cecelia replied. ‘But he is a darling man and my father knew exactly what he was doing when he appointed him to look after Highton's on Fifth all those years ago.'

‘Well, I can't wait to see the store,' Alice-Miranda
beamed.

‘Me too,' her father replied.

‘You're going to love the toy emporium,' Cecelia began. ‘There's a giant tree house in the middle of the floor and all sorts of cubbies and hideyholes.'

‘That sounds amazing,' said Alice-Miranda. ‘Is Aunt Charlotte coming over? And Uncle Lawrence and Granny?'

‘No darling, I'm afraid not. Lawrence has only got a month between film shoots so he's taking Charlotte on a belated surprise honeymoon. He was being very mysterious and wouldn't tell anyone what he had planned,' Cecelia replied.

‘That's so romantic,' Alice-Miranda said.

Cecelia's younger sister Charlotte and the handsome movie star Lawrence Ridley had recently been married in splendid style on board the Royal Yacht
Octavia
. The ship was owned by Aunty Gee, Alice-Miranda's grandmother's best friend and godmother to Cecelia and Charlotte. Aunty Gee was otherwise known as Queen Georgiana.

‘And I'm afraid your grandmother is begging off too. She's going to Aunty Gee's birthday party – which is the very same night as the opening,' Cecelia
explained.

‘It's a
special birthday
,' Hugh winked at Alice-Miranda in the rear-vision mirror.

Alice-Miranda grinned. ‘Gosh, I hadn't realised that Aunty Gee was turning forty.'

‘Ha, more like ninety,' her father laughed. Cecelia gave him a playful smack on the leg. ‘Darling, don't be so mean. You know a lady never reveals her age. And she's nowhere near ninety, you rude thing!'

With the help of Aldous Grump's guidebook gift, the trio spent the rest of the journey to the airport planning all the spots they would visit in New York City. Hugh said that he and Cecelia hadn't played tourist there since they were in their early twenties and it would be a novelty to hop on the sightseeing trail.

‘Can we ride the subway, Daddy?' Alice-Miranda asked.

‘Oh, I don't know about that,' her father replied. ‘I'm not sure that it's safe.'

‘“The subway is a perfectly good option for getting around the city”,' Alice-Miranda read from her guidebook.

‘But darling, we have a town car at the store,' her
mother frowned. ‘And there's the Highton's limousine as well.'

‘That's lovely, Mummy, but I want to experience the real New York and I'm certain not everyone has a town car or a limousine. Please, can we go on the subway?' Alice-Miranda begged.

Hugh glanced at his wife and then at his daughter in the rear-vision mirror. ‘I'm game if you are.'

‘And I think we should go to the Empire State Building and the Top of the Rockefeller Center and Staten Island and . . .' Alice-Miranda began.

‘Slow down, darling,' her mother laughed. ‘Why don't we take a proper look at that book of yours on the plane?'

Hugh parked on the edge of the tarmac. ‘Looks like we're nearly ready to go.' He hopped out of the car and was greeted by Cyril, their multi-skilled pilot who not only flew the family helicopter but also
Kennington 1
, the company jet.

‘Good afternoon, sir, good to see you,' said Cyril, offering his hand.

‘And you, Cyril,' Hugh replied. ‘How are we looking?'

‘Very good, sir. Should be ready for take-off in
about thirty minutes.'

Alice-Miranda leapt from the car and raced over to her father.

‘Hello!' She rushed forward and gave Cyril a hug.

‘And hello to you too, miss,' the pilot smiled.

‘Come on, sweetheart,' Cecelia called as she collected Alice-Miranda's suitcase from the back of the four-wheel drive. ‘Let's hop on and get settled. Dolly must be on board already. Ambrose was dropping her off. Daddy and Cyril need to talk.'

‘Leave that, ma'am,' the pilot nodded at the luggage. ‘I'll take care of it.'

‘Thank you, Cyril.' Cecelia took Alice-Miranda's hand and mother and daughter boarded the plane.

Alice-Miranda couldn't wait to get to New York and start their adventures, although she had a strange feeling that there was going to be a lot more excitement on this trip than she had first imagined.

L
ucinda Finkelstein glimpsed her reflection in the hall mirror. Despite an hour of torturous straightening, her hair was already rebelling back to its natural state of frizz. Lucinda's mother Gerda had silken black tresses, which her older brothers, Tobias and Ezekiel, had inherited. Lucinda, on the other hand, took after her father. Morrie Finkelstein was proud of the fact that he had never owned a hairbrush or a comb. His wiry greying locks sat atop his head like a Brillo pad.

‘Lucinda, hurry up, your father wants to see
how beautiful you look,' her mother called from the sitting room.

Lucinda tried in vain to flatten the rogue ringlets that were appearing around her forehead but the more she pulled, the more they escaped, mocking her with their springiness.

‘I'm coming, Mama,' the girl sighed, and headed for her appraisal. But she didn't need to anticipate her father's reaction. Morrie Finkelstein was nothing if not predictable. Lucinda would walk into the room where her father would be drinking a strong cup of tea with today's
New York Post
on the side table next to him. He would look up and gasp and then he would say the exact same thing that he said every Saturday at 2 pm, just before Lucinda and her mother took the town car to the store for afternoon tea in the Salon, with the usual gaggle of twenty or so of her mother's friends and their daughters.

Each week her father would say, ‘Oh, Lucinda. Look at you, my gorgeous girl. That's a lovely dress – you know, I picked it out myself. Come and give Papa a kiss, and you and your mother enjoy your afternoon tea.'

Lucinda entered the room. She looked around
expecting to see her mother but she wasn't there. The gangly child stood a few metres inside the doorway and waited for her father to greet her. His steaming cup of tea sat idle beside him. Morrie Finkelstein had his head buried in
The Post
. He didn't set the paper aside nor did he look up.

‘Hello Papa,' Lucinda said quietly.

But there was no response. Lucinda frowned. Every weekend for as long as she could remember, her father had arrived home on a Friday evening with a new dress from the store and admired her in it on Saturday afternoon. The routine was only broken twice a year, when the Finkelsteins went on holiday to their estate in Southampton.

‘Papa? Are you all right?' Lucinda tried again.

Morrie finally looked up. ‘Oh, I didn't hear you come in, Lucinda.' He folded the paper and put it to the side.

‘Is everything all right, Papa?' Lucinda's stomach twisted. By this time her father should have been midway through his usual farewell speech.

‘Everything's fine, Lucinda. Now run along. You don't want to keep your mother waiting, do you?'

Lucinda walked towards her father, leaned down
and kissed him on the forehead. The knot in her stomach tightened. It felt strange not to have her father comment on her appearance. And while her hair was misbehaving, her dress was particularly lovely and, she thought, quite flattering for someone whose limbs were growing way too quickly for the rest of her body.

As she turned to leave, her father picked up the newspaper and in a loud voice said to no one in particular, ‘Just like your father, your grandfather before that and your great-grandfather too. We'll see who's boss of this town, Cecelia Highton-Smith!'

Lucinda was puzzled by his outburst. She knew that the Finkelsteins and Hightons didn't get on for some reason but her father's voice was angry. She retreated to the doorway and peered back inside to see him depositing the newspaper into the huge fireplace, where the glowing embers erupted into flame. Lucinda scurried along the hallway to the apartment's grand foyer to wait for her mother. Her father was acting strangely, for sure.