Page 52 of Falling for You
My mom is a New Yorker through and through. She grew up outside of Manhattan with just her mom and sister in a small apartment above a store. She met my dad waiting tables at a restaurant downtown, and they never looked back.
Aunt Tell’s early adult years were spent moving to London to follow her dream of becoming an actress. She came here when she was twenty-five and has been performing in theatres ever since. I used to joke with Stevie that he must take after Aunt Tell and I must take after Mom, but he didn’t like that.
I take a train to Epping and emerge from the station onto a suburban street. Taking in a lungful of icy air, I begin my walk to Aunt Tell’s house, my phone shouting directions at me every thirty seconds or so.
If all goes to plan, I should be able to go back to New York by the end of the month. I’m trying not to think too much about why Aunt Tell has been ignoring my messages and calls for the past six weeks or so. I’ve sort of put it down to some whimsical idea of all of my emails getting lost in cyberspace or I somehow have her wrong number (even though I totally don’t). We’ll both just pretend it never happened.
‘Turn right,’ pipes up my phone. ‘Then in four hundred yards, the destination is on your left.’
I look up from my phone, feeling my eyebrows raise as I take in the row of grand houses all sat next to each other likeperfect dollhouses. In short, they are all enormous. I can’t believe Aunt Tell lives in a house like this.
I count the numbers on the houses and stop walking as I reach number 30. It’s not quite as big as the house next door, but with its smooth white plaster and crisp black window frames, it’s pretty much the smartest. And still way too big for just one person.
I walk up the drive, noticing her shiny car, and then raise my hand to the ruby-red door. A Christmas wreath is looped round the door knocker, far too early in my opinion, with little fairy lights twinkling around it.
I hold my breath as the knock reverberates through the door. I haven’t seen Aunt Tell in years. She might not even recognise me. I know Mom has said that she sends pictures, but I’ve got no idea what pictures or from how long ago.
The door swings open and my eyes widen as they land on Aunt Tell.
She is a small woman, with honey-blonde hair curled above her head in a large quiff. Her eyes are shadowed with dark make-up and her thin lips are coated in a shimmering pale pink. She’s wearing a floral dress and an eccentric scarf. As soon as she sees me, her mouth falls open like she’s seen a ghost, and before I have time to recite the lines I had rehearsed on my way over, I’m pulled into a hug.
‘Oh Nathaniel!’ she cries, clasping my head and rocking me from side to side. ‘It is so good to see you.’
I shuffle slightly in my seat, wating for Aunt Tell to reappear with the coffee. I’m perched in a large armchair which has agolden trim and is upholstered with a rich purple velvet. It looks like a chair that’s there for decoration rather than sitting on. But she insisted.
After what felt like hours, Aunt Tell finally let me go and bustled straight into her house, commanding me to follow. Her hallway had black and white squared tiles, a glittering chandelier and a sweeping wooden staircase. On the walls were photos of her, looking furious or gobsmacked, mid-scene in various acting roles. The odd picture had her clutching a bouquet of flowers, one hand to her heart, beaming at an adoring audience. I noticed there weren’t any pictures of us anywhere. Aunt Tell has never been married or had any children. We are the only family she has, and it’s like we don’t exist.
Which makes sense, considering she’s been ignoring me for the past six weeks.
But she seems so happy to see me! She hardly greeted me like someone she was trying to avoid.
‘Here we are!’ she coos, placing two china mugs down on golden coasters and beaming at me. She is practically glowing.
‘Great,’ I say. ‘Thank you. Sorry for just dropping in like this, I tried to call, but …’
But you never answered.
‘It’s a lovely surprise!’ she says at once, placing her hands on her lap and staring at me. Her eyes are wide and, unlike Stevie, her American accent is as strong as mine, even though she’s lived in the UK for half of her life.
I smile, taking a sip of my coffee.
This is the part where I ask Aunt Tell straight whether she can come back to New York, say how Mom isn’t doing so good and that she misses her. How seeing her will do Mom the world of good. But when I look up at Aunt Tell’s hopeful face, something stops me.
‘My goodness,’ she sighs. ‘I haven’t seen you since you were yay high.’ She holds up an arm. ‘I can’t believe this handsome man sat in front of me is my little Nathaniel. I say all of your names, you know. Right before I go on stage each night, I bless each of you.’
I pause, unsure of what to say.
‘At the theatre!’ she continues, reading my silence. ‘When I have a show! Before I go on I say, “God bless Linda, Paul, Nathaniel and Stevie. God bless them all.”’
‘Oh,’ I say, realising that I couldn’t stay silent a second time. ‘That’s nice.’
‘It helps keep me calm, thinking of all of your faces.’ She smiles, picking up her coffee cup. ‘I’ve got a show tonight – you should come!’
She leans forward excitedly.
‘Oh,’ I say. ‘I can’t stay. Sorry, I—’
‘I’m playing Beth inPaula’s Race Carat the Pheasant,’ she says, as if I haven’t spoken at all. ‘It’s the other side of town and it’s terrific fun. We’re halfway through a six-month run.’
