Page 65 of Still Me
“He’s really busy, Mum.”
“I’m sure he is. That’s a job and a half, isn’t it? Right, well, I must let you go before this call bankrupts the both of us. Did I tell you I’m seeing Maria this week? The toilet attendant from that lovely hotel we went to back in August? I’m going to London to see Treena and Thom on Friday, and I’m going to pop in and have lunch with Maria first.”
“In the toilets?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. There’s a two-for-one pasta deal at that Italian chain near Leicester Square. I can’t remember the name. She’s very fussy about where she goes—she says you should judge a restaurant kitchen by the cleanliness of the Ladies. This one has a very good maintenance schedule, apparently. Every hour on the hour. Is everything good with you? How’s the glamorous life of Fifth Street?”
“Avenue. Fifth Avenue, Mum. It’s great. It’s all... amazing.”
“Don’t forget to send me some more pictures. I showed Mrs. Edwards that one of you at the Yellow Ball and she said you looked like a film star. Didn’t say which one, but I know she meant well. I was telling Daddy we should come and visit you before you’re too important to know us!”
“Like that’s going to happen.”
“We’re awful proud, sweetheart. I can’t believe I have a daughter in New York high society, riding in limousines and hobnobbing with the flash Harrys.”
I looked around my little room, with the 1980s wallpaper and the dead cockroach under the basin. “Yeah,” I said. “I’m really lucky.”
—
Trying not to think about the significance of Sam no longer stopping by my flat just to feel close to me, I got dressed. I drank a coffee and wentdownstairs. I would head back to the Vintage Clothes Emporium. I had the feeling Lydia wouldn’t mind if I just hung out.
I picked my clothes carefully—this time I wore a Chinese mandarin-style blouse in turquoise with black wool culottes and a pair of red ballet slippers. Just the act of creating a look that didn’t involve a polo shirt and nylon slacks made me feel more like myself. I tied my hair into two plaits, joined at the back with a little red bow, then added the sunglasses Lydia had given me and some earrings in the shape of the Statue of Liberty that had been irresistible, despite coming from a stall of tourist tat.
I heard the commotion as I headed down the stairs. I wondered briefly what Mrs. De Witt was up to now, but when I turned the corner I saw that the raised voice was coming from a young Asian woman, who appeared to be thrusting a small child at Ashok. “You said this was my day. You promised. I have to go on the march!”
“I can’t do it, baby. Vincent is off. They got nobody to mind the lobby.”
“Then your kids can sit here while you do it. I’m going on this march, Ashok. They need me.”
“I can’t mind the kids here!”
“The library is going toclose, baby. You understand that? You know that is the one place with air-conditioning I can go in the summer! And it is the one place I can feel sane. You tell me where else in the Heights I’m supposed to take these kids when I’m alone eighteen hours a day.”
Ashok looked up as I stood there. “Oh, hi, Miss Louisa.”
The woman turned. I’m not sure what I had expected of Ashok’s wife, but it was not this fierce-looking woman in jeans and a bandanna, her curly hair tumbling down her back.
“Morning.”
“Good morning.” She turned away. “I’m not discussing this any further, baby. You told me Saturday was mine. I am going on the march to protect a valuable public resource. That isit.”
“There’s another march next week.”
“We have to keep up the pressure! This is the time when the city councilors decide funding! If we’re not out there now, the local news doesn’t report it, and then they think nobody cares. You know how PR works, baby? You know how the world works?”
“I willlose my jobif my boss comes down here and sees three kids. Yes, I love you, Nadia. I do love you. Don’t cry, sweetheart.” He turned to the toddler in his arms and kissed her wet cheek. “Daddy just has to do his job today.”
“I’m going now, baby. I’ll be back early afternoon.”
“Don’t you go. Don’t you dare—hey!”
She walked away, her palm up, as if to ward off further protest, and swung out of the building, stooping to pick up a placard she’d left by the door. As if perfectly choreographed, all three small children began to cry. Ashok swore softly. “What the Sam Hill am I supposed to do now?”
“I’ll do it.” I’d said it before I knew what I was doing.
“What?”
“Nobody’s in. I’ll take them upstairs.”
