Page 3 of Meet Me In Central Park

‘Oh God! I don’t know if I’m going to be able to deal with it. What if I see him when I’m in my car? I honestly don’t know what I’d be capable of, but I can picture myself doing the same thing to him as he did to Mum and Dad.’

‘You couldn’t do it, Lib. Not when it came down to it. But I hate him, too – for what he did to your mum and dad, and what that’s done to you.’

‘I’m all right, Nan.’ I had to be, for her and Granddad; it’s what I’d told myself over and over again in the weeks and months that had followed the accident, but she knew me far too well for that.

‘Of course you’re not all right, not after that news. But you’re only human and I wouldn’t expect you to be. Just try to remember that it wouldn’t matter if they kept that scumbag Bailey in prison for the rest of his life – it wouldn’t bring them back. But we want you back and it’s what your mum and dad would have wanted, much more than seeing Bailey rot in a cell. This makes it feel even more like Dottie’s offer has come at just the right time. You know we love you more than anything, Lib, but we all need a break from the memories if we’re going to heal. Every time you drive by the road where it happened and pass your old school, where your mum used to pick you up every day, or your dad’s favourite restaurant, it hits you all over again, doesn’t it?’

‘How did you know?’ I could visualise my parents in all of those places and suddenly, before she even answered, I knew my grandmother could too.

‘Because it’s the same for me and your granddad. Why do you think we spend all our time in this dingy old pub? But we’ve got to break those habits, Lib. Maybe it’ll be the cruise for me, or maybe it’ll be something else. But I just feel in my water that it’s going to be New York for you. You need to get away from here for a little while. Be somewhere without so many reminders of the past.’

‘Okay.’ It was just a single word, and it was out of my mouth before I even had the chance for second thoughts. I wouldn’t stay there for Christmas, though, whatever my grandmother said. There was no way I could stay in a place where the magic of the holidays was evident on every street corner, not when the people I’d loved most in the world had been robbed of their chance to ever celebrate Christmas again, or to even visit the place they’d always dreamed of going. But there’d be no pretence about denied visas and no more trying to talk my grandparents out of what they thought was best for me. I was going to New York, whether I liked it or not. And with Grant Bailey’s release on home visits imminent, my flight couldn’t leave a moment too soon.

2

‘You should have seen this place last night! It was like every crazy in the state of New York wanted to get into my cab.’

I tried to keep up with the taxi driver’s rapid delivery, as I caught my first glimpse of the Manhattan skyline. But my stomach was churning, and not just because he seemed determined to cut up every other driver using the Grand Central Parkway on the journey from JFK. I’d been so excited on my first trip to New York, five years earlier, but everything had been so different then. And, if I’d never had that trip, I might never have bought my parents the plane tickets for Mum’s fiftieth birthday…

‘I guess it’s like that, working on Halloween.’ I mumbled my response, although I wasn’t sure the cab driver even heard me. He seemed to be using the trip as an opportunity to offload and kept up his chat all the way to Manhattan, but I didn’t take in much else of what he said; I was too busy concentrating on just breathing in and out. I was going to be on Seventh Avenue in a matter of minutes, and the stomach churning was getting worse.

When he pulled up outside my great aunt’s Christmas shop, I could see the neon lights in Times Square, up ahead. ‘This is it then, Candy Cane Lane on Seventh.’

I paid the driver and watched the cab join a queue of traffic, as I stood on the sidewalk with my suitcases. Sooner or later, I was going to have to go in, but I couldn’t seem to persuade my feet to move.

‘Liberty, is that you!’ Aunt Dottie’s unmistakeable voice carried down the street before I even saw her. But, moments later, she was parting the crowds as her metallic purple mobility scooter came into view. I wasn’t sure if she’d dyed her hair to match the scooter – or bought the scooter to match her hair – but either way, it was a striking combination.

‘Auntie Dottie.’ I bent down to kiss her as she brought her scooter to a halt, narrowly missing my feet. ‘You look even younger than the last time I saw you.’

‘Well, you know what they say, Libby, you’re only as old as the man you feel!’ Dottie threw back her head and laughed. ‘And luckily for me, the current one is only sixty-one!’

I shook my head but couldn’t help but smile. She’d managed to make me laugh within the first two minutes – maybe it was going to be okay, after all. Aunt Dottie’s personality was so big it could easily overshadow Christmas, and my counsellor was probably right; I could do with a bit of fun in my life. Hearing about Dottie’s antics would certainly be entertaining. At seventy-six, she was two years older than Nan, and still nowhere near ready to settle down.

‘His name’s Brian and he’s been an absolute rock since my hip replacement. He’s got elevator service in his building too, so I’ve been staying there since the operation. Which means you’ll have the apartment above the shop all to yourself.’ Dottie laughed again. ‘And a girl’s gotta have the space to entertain, if you know what I mean!’

‘Oh, don’t worry, I’m not planning on doing anything other than working while I’m here and helping you out as much as I possibly can. The sort of complications men tend to bring are the last thing I need.’

‘Not you, honey, me!’ Dottie had lived in the States for over thirty years, following a messy divorce, and her English accent had all but disappeared. ‘Although, according to Ruby, it is about time you saw some action too.’

‘Auntie Dottie, please!’ It was bad enough that Nan and my great aunt were discussing my love life, but the fact that I was lagging behind a septuagenarian was a new low, even for me.

‘Okay, I promise not to nag you about all of that too much. But you never know, New York’s a romantic place. Carriage rides in Central Park, sailing around Liberty Island at sunset. Trust me, I’ve done them all.’

‘Like I said, I’m just here to help you out.’

‘About that.’ Dottie prodded the handlebar of her mobility scooter. ‘I’m kinda reliant on this thing right now, so I’m only popping into the shop every now and again. Don’t worry, though, you’ve got help. My friend Betty does as many days as she can fit in around her grandkids, and Madison’s full time now.’

‘I’m sure we’ll manage.’ I took a deep breath. This was going to be hard, but working in a shop like Candy Cane Lane there was no way to keep avoiding it; it was time to confront Christmas head-on. ‘So, are we going in?’

‘Just let me back this thing up; there’s a bit of a step-up into the shop. It’s perfectly accessible for wheelchairs and strollers, but I need a bit of a run-up to get over it.’ True to her word, Dottie reversed the scooter to the furthest edge of the sidewalk, as I pulled open the door. It was certainly one way to make an entrance, and, somehow, she managed not to knock a single ornament off the display in the centre of the shop.

‘Morning girls! This is my great niece, Liberty. As you know, she’ll be taking over as manager until I get back.’ Dottie stopped her scooter by a big artificial Christmas tree dominating the floor space in the shop, which had loads of different baubles hanging on it. They were clearly aimed at appealing to the tourists, as there were miniature Empire State Buildings, Statues of Liberty and yellow taxi cabs decorated with Christmas wreaths. I concentrated on my breathing again. I could cope with Christmas, I was almost sure of it. I just had to stop myself hyperventilating at the thought of spending nearly two months in New York’s answer to Santa’s grotto.

A young woman, who couldn’t have been much older than eighteen or nineteen, flashed me a smile. She had the whitest teeth I’d ever seen in real life. ‘Good to meet you, Liberty. I’m Madison. Welcome to New York!’

I returned her smile. ‘Nice to meet you too, Madison. But call me Libby, please, almost everyone does.’

‘I think Liberty’s a lovely name.’ The older lady standing next to Madison walked around from the other side of the counter. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to work out that she must be Betty. ‘And Dottie tells me you were named after Lady Liberty herself?’

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