Page 8 of Meet Me In Central Park

‘Now this sounds like it’s about to get juicy!’ Dannie picked up the Swarovski crystal bauble again, and Rob shook his head. It looked like a battle that was going to last until Christmas Day.

‘Not really. She wants me to go to a special art class at the Community Center tonight, to help me work through my issues with men.’ Madison wrinkled her nose.

‘With Dr Paula?’ Dannie looked even more excited. ‘Apparently she’s fab. We’ve been thinking about trying the classes for ages. And Rob’s sister runs the Community Center that Dr Paula runs her classes out of. Doesn’t she, Rob?’

‘Yeah, Karly’s worked there for a few years now. They do all sorts of stuff – they’ve even got a theatre group that performs there, too. They used to run some off-Broadway shows there, but now it’s mainly a meeting place with workshops, community classes and a bit of alternative theatre.’

‘Ooh, you know what? We should all go!’ Dannie was a force to be reckoned with, and I tried to back into the corner of the shop, in the hope he wouldn’t remember I was there. ‘We’ve got staff in covering the deli until it closes, so we could go tonight.’

‘You got some issues you need to work through, too, sugar?’ Betty was using her wrapping skills to pack up another two slices of cheesecake. That woman was nobody’s fool.

‘We’ve all got issues, chicken.’ Dannie grinned again. ‘But I’ve always fancied myself as a bit of an artist. I could do a mural for the deli if I get really good.’

‘Or you could spend the whole evening finding out what everyone else’s issues are?’ Rob raised an eyebrow, and I was more determined than ever to dodge going with them. I’d already told a complete stranger much more than I wanted to. But I definitely didn’t want my neighbours and colleagues knowing what a mess I was – they were people I’d have to face every day.

‘So it’s settled then, we’re going to tonight’s class?’ Dannie looked around, but Betty was already packing up her handbag.

‘I’ve gotta get home to Jacob, but I think it’s a great idea that you’re taking Madison. And it will be good for Libby to meet some more people, too. I know that’s what her Aunt Dottie wants.’ She fixed me with an uncharacteristically serious look, and I wondered how much my great aunt had already told her. Everything, knowing Dottie.

‘That’s settled then; Rob can give his sister a call.’ Dannie put an arm around Madison, who didn’t look much more convinced than me. At least we could try and brazen it out together. Making a joke of the whole thing would certainly lessen the chance of anyone discovering who I really was.

‘I’m not sure Libby wants to be railroaded into this.’ Rob turned to look at me, and I could see the sympathy in his eyes. I had a horrible feeling that I’d been right, when I’d first met the boys, and that Betty wasn’t the only one Aunt Dottie had been talking to. She’d probably done it with the best of intentions. But, apart from not being in Canterbury when Grant Bailey came home on a visit, being able to reinvent myself, even for a little while, had been one of the things that had appealed to me most about spending two months in New York. I didn’t want to be the woman who’d lost both her parents in a horrific accident. Only now, it looked increasingly like that might be the only thing anyone in this part of Manhattan knew about me.

‘It’s fine, it’ll probably be a laugh.’ It didn’t sound convincing, even to me. But I was going anyway, because I couldn’t stand the looks they’d exchange otherwise. ‘Poor Libby’ was a label I wasn’t prepared to wear, at least not here, and I owed it to my parents to embrace the chances they’d never been given. The only way to stand any chance of doing that was to fake it until I made it and pretend I could handle it all – Christmas, New York and now art classes with Dr Paula.

* * *

The Community Center was much nicer than I expected, and there were paintings on the outside of the building. It had pretty leaded windows, too, edged with red and green glass, which gave it a really Christmassy feel. But I tried not to let that put me off. It must have been quite grand in its heyday, but it was attached to a dilapidated building that only seemed to have one wall left standing. There were still posters on it, though, which must have been there for decades, advertising Broadway shows that had long since closed.

Madison looked like she was going to a nightclub, in her tiny little crop top and skin-tight jeans. Not that I was jealous. But, when I looked at her, I tried to suck my stomach in anyway – two slices of Rob’s peanut butter and banana cheesecake weren’t helping. Despite knowing there were probably half a day’s calories in each slice, part of me was glad I’d wanted another slice. After my parents had died, I’d had no appetite for weeks and when I’d forced myself to eat – mostly to stop my grandparents worrying – everything had tasted like sand. One of the things Dad had most been looking forward to about coming to New York was visiting as many delis as he could get to. He loved watching programmes like Man v. Food and had told me he wasn’t coming home until he’d won at least one food challenge and got the T-shirt to prove it. He’d have been in his version of heaven in Dannie and Rob’s deli and I’d almost been able to picture him standing beside me, when I’d considered having a second slice of the cheesecake they’d dropped off, urging me to do it. Dad definitely wouldn’t have held back and I told myself I was having the second slice for him.

‘I’m so glad you finally came!’ A pretty girl, who I could only assume was Rob’s sister, greeted us as soon as we walked through the door.

‘It was all Dannie’s idea.’ Rob offered the introductions. ‘This is Madison and Libby, they run Candy Cane Lane. You know, the Christmas shop next to the deli.’

‘Ooh I love that place!’ I could see why Karly had been given the job of running the Community Center; she had the knack of making you feel immediately at home and a ready smile that somehow convinced me on the spot that she was someone I would get on with. ‘I’m so glad you’re all here, and I’ve told Paula to expect you, so, you can head through to the studio when you’re ready. But Abbie will kill me if I don’t give you these first. It’s her new show.’ She passed us all a black-and-white leaflet, with a picture of a woman on the front, whose head was covered with a white sheet wrapped in barbed wire.

‘Looks cheerful.’ Rob turned over the leaflet. ‘Oh damn, I think we’re busy that week, aren’t we, Dannie?’

‘Don’t be mean.’ Karly nudged her brother. ‘The ticket sales go towards keeping this place running. So, even if you don’t think it’s your thing, you should give it a go. For me.’

‘How about if we pay not to go?’ Dannie laughed and looked at me. ‘But, hey, Libby’s never experienced Abbie’s theatre group before, and she could be into performance art for all we know.’

‘And I thought you said us Brits had to stick together.’ I put the leaflet into my bag. Maybe I should give it a go. At least I’d have plenty to talk about when I got back to my grandparents’ pub. I could just imagine the regulars’ reactions, when I told them about it, and Nan wouldn’t be able to say I hadn’t got out and about. When I called her, I’d be able to say I’d started art classes with friends, and booked to go to the theatre. That had to count as having a life. Maybe after that I’d be able to go to a Broadway show too. That was something else on Mum’s wish list and Dad had secretly booked tickets to see Chicago on the second night of their stay, despite pretending to protest about the idea of going to the theatre. She’d have been thrilled and, even if there was no way I could follow their plans closely enough to go to the same show, without having a complete breakdown and ugly crying all the way through, it was something else I wanted to do for Mum before I left.

‘Come on then, let’s get up to the studio, so I can release my inner Picasso.’ Dannie’s voice broke into my thoughts and he was already walking away. ‘See you later, Karls, and get the kettle on for after. You’ve got some Yorkshire tea in, haven’t you?’

‘I certainly have! I know it’s more than my life’s worth not to have what it takes to make a proper brew, as you call it. Before I met you, I never realised Yorkshiremen were so particular about tea! Have fun guys and I’ll see you afterwards.’ Karly turned and headed back towards the reception area, where four pugs were lying on a leather sofa. They were so still, they could have passed for statues – apart from the snoring.

* * *

‘Come in, come in!’ A woman in a wheelchair, at the front of the art studio, waved us in. She had amazing blue eyes, and I immediately felt as though she could see into my soul. Maybe that was why her classes had such a great reputation: she really could see beyond the surface. I wondered if it was too late to make a bolt for it, because I really didn’t want her to be able to do that with me. ‘I’m Paula, and I would say I run these classes, but they tend to run themselves. But I do make sure that no one steals the supplies, and I try to be a listening ear if you need one. I don’t provide directed therapy at these sessions, though. So, if you’re looking for a traditional art therapy class, I can recommend some other places. I’m guessing you’re the group of friends Karly told me about?’

We all introduced ourselves in turn and, within minutes, Madison was pouring out her boyfriend troubles to Paula as the rest of the group gradually drifted into the studio. There were others already working on projects and some of them were amazing, although there was a good chance that a couple of them would end up giving me nightmares. One man was doing what I can only assume was a self-portrait. The face was recognisable, but it was attached to the body of a baby that was wearing a nappy. It made me shudder just looking at it and I had no desire to find out the meaning behind it. Despite the sinister nature of some of the artwork, there was a really relaxed atmosphere and Paula’s unobtrusive approach seemed to work like magic in getting people to open up. Not for me, though. I was busy concentrating on doing a very bad painting of a dog instead, inspired by Karly’s pugs. I might not have been working through my issues, but I had managed to unleash my inner five-year-old, judging by the quality of my artwork.

‘I didn’t think you’d actually join the class. You looked pretty unconvinced when I gave you the card.’ My brush slipped when I realised who was speaking. Harry must have come into the studio while I was engrossed in my painting. If it wasn’t embarrassing enough that I’d cried all over his office, now he could see my pitiful attempt at painting, too. So much for trying to avoid seeing him again.

‘I wasn’t, to be honest, but some friends persuaded me. I’m only here to support Madison, really.’ I was going to have to get better at this nonchalant stuff. I just sounded whiney.

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