Marooned in Manhattan (12 page)

Chapter 22

‘O
ur plot has more holes in it than
Swiss cheese,’ I observed glumly, flicking through the newly printed pages of the script we had laboured over for more than a week.

‘It will never work,’ said Kylie.

‘Pessimists,’ said Greg, trailing a carrot piece in front of Dr Pepper.

I looked around the room curiously. At his dad’s Park Avenue apartment, Greg had his own room but on ‘B’ weeks, he had to share a room with Finn at his mom’s place.

‘You spend ‘A’ weeks with your dad and then every second week is a ‘B’ week and you live here with your mom?’ asked Kylie.

‘Basically, yes,’ said Greg, ‘but it’s a little more complicated than that; sometimes Mom and Dad switch weeks or chop them up. And it can be a real pain because whatever I want to wear is
always
in the other apartment.’

A black and white electric guitar lay propped up against the wall beside Finn’s bed. I reached out to touch it.

‘Don’t touch that!’ said Greg quickly. ‘Finn will go crazy.’

I withdrew my hand at once.

‘Evie, do you want me to come with you to Brooklyn to speak to Sidney?’ Greg asked.

‘No, I think it would be better if I spoke to her without you guys. Jake and Scott are going to some car-racing event in Delaware on Saturday afternoon. So that’s my best chance of catching Sidney at home.’

Dr Pepper scuttled under Greg’s bed at the knock on the door.

‘The pizza is here, guys. Come into the kitchen to eat.’

‘Thanks, Mrs Winters,’ said Kylie, carefully waiting until I had shoved our masterpiece script into my backpack before opening the door.

‘I’m using my maiden name again now. It’s Angela Rackett, but you can call me Angela, honey. Hearing “Mrs Rackett” makes me look over my shoulder to see if my mother is standing there with her broomstick,’ and she laughed to herself.

Greg rolled his eyes but in more of an affectionate than an exasperated way. I explained that Scott was nearby in Angela’s East Village neighbourhood visiting an off-colour Dalmatian owned by the local firehouse and would pick me up after lunch.

‘Off-colour?’ asked Greg. ‘Has the Dalmatian lost his spots?’

‘No, I don’t think so,’ I said, ‘I don’t think spots can be lost.’

Scott arrived after lunch and after spending a few minutes charming Angela, he suggested we take the subway home
because his Jeep was being temperamental again. We took the 6 subway line at 23
^rd
Street to the 86
^th
Street Station, intending to walk the rest of the way home through the Park. I glanced in the window of the pet gym on the corner of East 87
^th
and Lexington Avenue. A tired-looking iguana was running on a miniature treadmill.

‘Only in New York would somebody pay fifty bucks an hour because they think their pet iguana looks fat,’ said Scott, shaking his head in wonder and disgust.

‘It’s Charley!’ I said and I rapped on the window.

The sudden noise prompted Charley to try to jump off the treadmill, but he was attached to it by his leash. He ended up nearly hanging himself until Eliot ran over and disentangled him.

‘Sorry,’ I mouthed through the glass.

‘Let’s get out of here,’ said Scott, tugging on my hood.

On Saturday morning after Scott and Jake had left, I told Joanna that I had something important to do and asked if it would be ok if I didn’t help out in the clinic.

‘What do you have to do?’ she asked curiously.

‘It’s personal,’ I told her.

‘Ok,’ she said in a moderately hurt way and didn’t ask any more questions.

I eventually found Sidney’s apartment after getting directions from a woman pushing a stroller in Williamsburg. Sidney answered the apartment intercom buzzer after a minute or two. She sounded surprised when she heard who it was. But she buzzed the front door open right away and said, ‘Come
on up, we’re on the top floor, it’s a walk-up. Katie’s having a nap so try and be quiet when you reach the apartment.’

I slid through the door and headed for the stairs, which were very narrow and grimy. There was lots of thinking time, climbing five flights of stairs.

Later that day, I lay full length on my stomach on my bed, trying to read
David Copperfield
, which Mrs Scanlon had given to me as a goodbye present. I suppose she thought I would have something in common with David, since he was an orphan and I am effectively an orphan. I thought David was a bit wimpy and whiny even if he did have a monster stepfather and a selfish, cowardly mother. There were lots of long difficult parts to skip over. I tossed the book aside.

I stared at the spidery crack in the corner of the ceiling that had started to spread. Like a virus, I thought, because that was the mood I was in. Leela’s words kept spinning around in my head. I remembered Grainne, from my old class at school in Dublin, who got her ponytail caught in the blender when her mum was whipping cream. I felt like my whole head was caught in a blender. How dare Leela speak about my mum the way she did? But I felt furious with Mum too. Why did she leave me as a financial burden on Uncle Scott? She should have bought life insurance. She was always talking about getting a policy, but I guess she never got around to it.

I hate being a financial drain on Scott, sucking up all his cash like a Hoover. If only I lived back in Jane Eyre’s time: I could train to become a governess and teach little rich children how to do their ABCs. That is what
penniless
girl orphans did in those days. Nowadays, in the books, they all are wizards or werewolves or half-fairies, or they are recruited by friendly pirates or adopted by a gay couple or a celebrity. Practical help is sadly wanting.

I feel guilty for being angry with Mum when she is dead. Janet said that Mum is always with me, looking down on me from heaven. I hope Mum is having fun and is happy and not wasting her days in heaven watching me – that would be terribly boring.

Is Leela right? Am I causing Scott to go bankrupt? I know he had to use his overdraft account at the bank to pay Karen last week. And I heard him on the phone asking someone from our building’s management company for extra time to pay this month’s rent on the apartment. At least the rent on the clinic has been paid … I hope.

The only person Scott is afraid of is Virpi, the Finnish chain-smoking bookkeeper who arrives on the last Thursday of every month to trawl through the invoices with him. She has a habit every ten minutes or so of breaking into hysterical laughter over some of the receipts and expenses, culminating in a bone-rattling cough, during which she drops ash on Scott’s Italian shoes. Virpi is the only person I have met who is totally immune to Scott’s charm. He doesn’t like it one little bit. He thinks she might be an alien who has taken over a human body and is planning the destruction of the human race. I think he’s only half-joking.

I explained Scott’s theory to Kylie and Greg. She thought it was funny but Greg said he didn’t think an enemy alien
would spend so much time doing Scott’s bookkeeping.

The more I think about it the more I become convinced that Leela was right. It would be best for Scott if I return to Ireland. I will go back and live with Janet and Brendan (if Brendan is still in the picture) and go back to school. Scott will probably call me; we will exchange Christmas and birthdays gifts, but soon that will fade out. Joanna will forget about me and Kylie and Greg will forget too and I will never see Finn again and I will never give Luna a carrot or groom her again and I will sleep all alone by myself, not with Ben’s head on my foot and I won’t hear him snoring or the exciting little yapping noises he makes when he is chasing squirrels in his dreams and it will be like this summer never happened.

I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing, I heard laughter and loud voices. Jake and Scott had arrived back from the car races in high spirits and in time for Joanna to take me, Kylie and Greg to a Yankees game in Yankee Stadium in the Bronx. I wandered out to the living room, feeling more cheerful. Stefan was supposed to come with us, but Joanna said Rachel would be taking his ticket.

‘Trouble in paradise?’ Scott inquired.

‘No,’ snapped Joanna, ‘and by the way, Adrienne Weismann called. She has diagnosed KitKat with one of her
makey-upey
diseases. She particularly wants to discuss it with you. I told her you would love to hear all about her diagnosis and that you will call her this evening.’

Scott cursed. It was not a mild curse.

I enjoyed the Yankees game although Greg gave up trying to explain the rules of baseball to me. The hot dogs were the best part. I have never tasted such delicious hot dogs in my life. We all ate two each. Kylie ate hers with just ketchup; Greg mixed mustard and ketchup and loaded it with
sauerkraut
. I liked them best with plain mustard.

Joanna was not herself, but we were all too cautious to comment on it.

‘What’s up with you, Joanna?’ Rachel finally asked.

‘Stefan and I broke up.’

Kylie and I looked up. This was more interesting than the game.

‘I’m sorry, Jo,’ said Rachel.

‘Don’t be,’ Joanna replied, ‘it’s been coming for a while.’

Rachel looked confused.

‘I thought you were so happy with him. What happened?’

Joanna shrugged.

‘I pretended to everyone and to myself that I was happy with him. I don’t know why. I wanted to be happy and he was European and sophisticated, and I don’t know, I think I was fed up with dating, with speed dating events and meeting lots of Bengali taxi drivers. I’m sure they were very nice but I don’t have a word of Bengali.’

Rachel laughed and Joanna scowled at her.

‘I’m sorry you are upset,’ I said.

‘That’s ok, Evie, no loss,’ said Joanna.

‘I hated Stefan’s big gorilla feet,’ added Rachel with a little shudder.

‘Let the trashing begin!’ said Joanna in a sarcastic tone and we all took the hint to change the subject.

On our way home on the jam-packed subway, I had my first opportunity to speak to Kylie and Greg without adults around since my trip to Brooklyn that morning. Rachel and Joanna managed to grab seats and were embroiled in conversation. Greg, Kylie and I were squashed together by the doors.

‘What did Sidney say?’ Greg asked as soon as he could.

I hadn’t been looking forward to this conversation, especially considering all the efforts Kylie and Greg had put into the script.

‘Em,’ I said, ‘I didn’t actually ask her to do it.’

‘You chickened out?’ asked Kylie.

Greg looked disbelieving.

‘No way did I
chicken
out. I just changed my mind about the plan.’

‘It was so complicated,’ I pointed out, my words tumbling over one another in my rush. ‘We had to persuade Sidney to let us use her studio to set up the bogus audition … and where were we going to find a beehive? … and what if Scott didn’t turn up at the right time? … or what if Leela just called that TV producer guy and realised that the audition was not real? … and what if the bees didn’t swarm out of their hive when they were supposed to? … and …’

‘Ok,’ said Greg, the chief writer, a little huffily, ‘so we have some revisions to do. I wasn’t totally comfortable with the whole bee aspect of the script. I mean, I could probably
attract a mosquito bite at the Arctic pole, so being around a hive of bees probably wasn’t the smartest idea.’

I shook my head.

‘It’s not just the bees. Janet, my godmother, would say that we are living in
la la land
. I thought about it the whole time when I was climbing up the stairs to Sidney’s apartment, which took forever, and I thought about it all the way back from Brooklyn.
I have to use my words
. I have to confront Leela directly.’

Greg did not seem impressed.

‘Now, that sounds
ley la land
to me.’

‘It’s
la la land
,’ I pointed out.

‘Whatever.’

Kylie stuck her tongue out at Greg.

‘I think Evie is right. Our plan was kids’ stuff. Leela is real.’

‘Guys,’ called Joanna, ‘hurry up, we’ve reached our stop.’

I forgot to tell Sidney not to tell anyone that I had dropped in to see her. She told Jake, who told Scott. When I got home from the Yankees game, Scott was not remotely interested in hearing about it. He was icy cold, which I hate more than anything. It is so much easier to deal with someone who is yelling.

‘I cannot
believe
you went out to Williamsburg on your own. I thought I could trust you. I thought you didn’t want to be treated like a little kid. Now I’m going to have to keep tabs on you, maybe I’ll have to get one of those microchips we put in the dogs and cats and implant it in your elbow. Is that what you want?’

I stared at the floor.

‘Why did you go to Brooklyn without asking me?’

I didn’t say anything. Scott waited. Still, I said nothing.

‘Alright, here’s the deal,’ said Scott. ‘You are not going to your riding lesson tomorrow or next Sunday either.’

‘NO!’ I wailed. ‘Couldn’t we substitute an alternative
punishment
, like I have to clean out the kennels every day or …?’