Too tired to think about supper, she’d given in to Louis’ proddings and as a special treat picked up some fried chicken on the way home. She knew she shouldn’t; she knew eating it would only make her feel more tired in the long run. But right at that moment, resistance was low and the weather was freezing and wet and windy, and she wanted nothing more than to sit down in front of In the Night Garden and cuddle her (slightly greasy) son.
The doorbell rang. Pearl and her mother looked at each other and frowned. They didn’t have many visitors. There wasn’t the room, for starters. And Pearl usually met her friends after church, not at seven o’clock at night in the middle of a storm, unannounced.
She got up from the futon, her knees creaking as she did so. She cursed inwardly to herself; she was young, still. She shouldn’t be creaking and huffing like an old lady. She shouldn’t have eaten all that chicken.
Standing in the shadow of the alleyway, in the space that was meant to be lit by security lighting but that the council never got round to fixing, with his finger to his lips, possibly a little tipsy, was her ex, and Louis’ father, Benjamin.
‘Sssh,’ he said.
In the cab, Issy suddenly sagged. The cold had cut through her like a knife as she’d stepped out of the cosy lobby of the hotel; her watch said 2 a.m. British time; and she envied Darny, who had gone straight to bed, very much. Never the less, she wanted to be as supportive as she could.
‘So who’s going to be there?’ she said, trying to stifle a yawn.
‘Well, Merv,’ said Austin. ‘He’s the guy in charge. And his wife. I haven’t met her. And some other director of the bank. I haven’t met him. And his wife, I suppose.’
‘We’re walking into a massive group of people we haven’t met?’ said Issy, feeling suddenly terribly anxious. ‘Who are basically interviewing you for a job?’ She took out her make-up case nervously.
‘Don’t … I mean, you’ve probably got enough stuff on your cheeks,’ said Austin.
Issy’s eyes were hugely round and fearful. ‘What do you mean?’ she said.
‘Nothing,’ said Austin quickly. ‘Nothing. I mean, you look fine.’
‘They’re all going to be trendy New Yorkers, though,’ said Issy. ‘And I’ll just be scuzz. Mind you,’ she added, ‘maybe that’ll make them change their minds about the job and you’ll have to come home on the next flight with me.’
She’d tried to sound light, but she was aware she’d touched on a sensitive issue. Austin looked at her, but in the passing street lights it was very difficult to see his face. As the cab bounced downtown on one of the large, open avenues, he pointed out the Chrysler Building, all lit up in Christmas colours. It was so familiar and so wonderful all at once that she couldn’t help being impressed. Then she sniffed.
‘They’ve done the BT Tower up in red and green,’ she said casually. ‘Oh, and the whole of the South Bank is a festival of light. And a Christmas market.’
The snow flurries were becoming thicker and thicker. The driver turned down a little old-fashioned-looking street lined with houses with brown steps up to their front doors, which reminded Issy of Sex and the City and the days when she and Helena used to watch it and wish they got their Chinese food delivered in little boxes, or that they too were asked out by suave gentlemen every five minutes (Helena did get asked out every five minutes, but only by drunks on a Saturday night when she was bandaging them up in Accident and Emergency).
The restaurant had large plate-glass windows that reminded her of the café, but this place was painted grey, not green. Inside, it seemed to glow; the lights were soft and warm and yellow and gave the place the most inviting, exciting atmosphere imaginable. Happy, stunningly beautiful men and women – all dressed, Issy noticed glumly, up to the nines – were chatting, laughing and generally having a wonderful time.
‘Hello,’ said Austin cheerily to the doorman. He never felt intimidated anywhere. Probably because he wasn’t really noticing it, thought Issy. And that made him comfortable and that in its turn made him likeable and that made him confident and so things always went well. It must be nice. She smiled in an ingratiating way at the doorman and wondered whether to tip him as he opened the door.
Inside, a stunningly beautiful blonde woman gave Austin a smile that made her look as if she’d been waiting to see him all day.
‘Good evening, sir!’ she said, displaying gorgeous teeth. ‘Do you have a reservation?’
But ‘Austin! Hey, Austin!’ was already booming across the room, and at the back of the restaurant – it was much larger than it appeared from the outside – a short, wide man was rising up from a comfortable-looking banquette.
The blonde whisked away their coats, then threaded them through the tables. Issy decided it must be jet lag that had made her think she had just passed Michael Stipe having dinner with Brooke Shields. All she could say for sure was that every person in the room looked gorgeous, had obviously just had their hair done, was talking animatedly about interesting things and looked a hundred per cent absolutely like they were supposed to be there. Unless someone asked her about flour grading, Issy reflected sadly, she wasn’t going to have anything to say. And, after all, she was only the girlfriend. If Sex and the City was accurate, there were millions of beautiful girls in New York just desperate to snap up some gorgeous hunk.
Issy tried to snap herself out of it and smile politely and the men stood up as they approached the table.
‘Hello,’ she said, as the women revealed themselves to be almost terrifyingly skinny. Merv’s wife, Candy, was at least three inches taller and twenty years younger than him. The other couple’s names she didn’t even catch, and she muttered ‘hi’ whilst feeling nine years old, hopelessly intimidated, furious with herself and furious with Austin for some reason she couldn’t quite articulate.
‘Hi,’ said the women, blankly and without interest. Presumably if you didn’t have poison injected in your face every ten minutes and starve yourself to death 24/7, you didn’t deserve even the faintest glimmer of attention round here.
Austin, on the other hand, was, she noticed, the object of ritual scrutiny. In her cornered state she couldn’t help but be slightly mollified; yeah, she thought, you guys are all a lot thinner and richer than me, but at least I don’t have to pretend I like having sex with Merv just because he’s rich.