25
GREENWICH VILLAGE
Cleo knew it was early because when she woke the apartment was shrouded in darkness. She looked at the clock beside her bed, its hands illuminated. It was almost seven o’clock and the only company this morning was the gentle hum from the heating that had just kicked in, the sound of the odd car crawling past on the street outside, perhaps making an early escape to be with family.
Merry Christmas, Cleo.
So much for lying in bed last night and thinking Christmas miracles could come true, that the changes ahead were for the best. What a load of rubbish. Here she was, waking up alone on Christmas Day, and the only difference was her hopes had been raised last night all because of the season that promised more than it could ever give. She thought about the contents of the fridge, her big Christmas day plans. She’d bought a precooked piece of turkey ready to slice, a potato salad, and the only dessert she had was the plum pudding she’d bought to take over to Grandpa Joe’s.
She turned over in bed with a groan, hoping the night could swallow her up again, but it wasn’t long before the sun announced it was time for the city to wake up and face whatever it had in store today. Cleo did her best to snuggle down beneath her duvet but the sound of music from outside wasn’t going to let her sleep. Who was playing it so loud at this time of the morning? Unfortunately her bedroom was at the front of the building on a side street in a neighbourhood that could buzz well into the night, and sometimes into the early hours.
Cleo had been hoping it was music coming from a passing car that would move quickly on, but when it continued she threw off her duvet cover and stomped across to the window where she wiped the condensation with her hand. The roofs opposite stretching all the way from one end of the street to the other were tipped with frost and snow, the street was calm apart from this lone figure standing on the street holding what she assumed must be some kind of stereo system, one of those old fashioned ghetto blasters she’d had as a teen.
The music was quite beautiful when she stopped to listen rather than raging at having been disturbed. She leaned against the cool glass. The first track had been ‘Oh Christmas Tree’. It had then moved on to ‘Oh Little Town of Bethlehem’, and had now settled on an instrumental version of ‘Jingle Bells’. She closed her eyes. The sound of a violin carrying the sweet melody with a piano accompaniment was magical.
Cleo only pulled away from the glass and opened her eyes when she realised the man was calling out her name.
She flicked the catch, opened up the window, and poked her head out. A few fine flakes of snow fell on the tip of her nose, landed in her hair. ‘Dylan? What are you doing out there?’
A window from the brownstone on the opposite side of the street slid upwards and the crotchety old bugger who lived there yelled out. ‘Use the damn telephone and leave us all in peace!’ And with that, slammed the window shut again.
‘I’ll buzz you in,’ Cleo called down to Dylan.
She shut the window, shivered, and trotted over to press the button to allow access to the downstairs. She went to the bathroom and ran a brush through her hair before winding it up in a roll and pinning it down with a clip. She splashed cold water on her face and gargled with mouthwash. There was no way she was going to face this man when she’d just dragged herself out of bed.
She opened the front door just as he came to the top of the stairs. ‘Mr Scheinberg has been known to throw a bucket of cold water on people who are noisy too late or too early.’ She grinned and stood back to let him in to the apartment.
‘Probably just as well I didn’t sing any carols myself then. He’d have soaked me, my voice is terrible.’
Cleo offered him a cup of coffee. She wasn’t quite ready for one herself but she needed something to occupy her hands. But on her way to the kitchen, she turned around. ‘Where are the kids? It’s Christmas day. And where’s Prue?’
‘That’s a lot of questions to fire my way when it’s so early.’
She folded her arms across her chest. ‘Seriously, Dylan. Where are they all?’
‘Prue and I have talked, properly.’
‘Oh?’ She attempted nonchalance but her high-pitched voice had probably given her away.
‘We’re not getting back together, and she understands that now.’
‘Is this because of what she did with the lease?’
‘No. I’d decided a long time before but I was trying to do the right thing, really think about what I should do for everyone involved. I grew up with two parents very much devoted to one another and it’s what I always wanted for my family, but I think it’s better for two people to be apart and happy, than it is for them to be together, forcing a relationship that in the end will probably end up making everyone miserable.’
‘Right.’ Her heart was galloping at a million miles an hour. ‘So where are the kids now?’
‘They ripped open all their presents from Santa at about four-thirty this morning, then after breakfast I dropped them at Prue’s folks’ house. They’re planning a long walk, then they’ll both be with me for Christmas lunch, then back with Prue at dinner time and to stay over.’
‘Sounds like a busy schedule.’
‘It is. So we’d better get going.’
She looked at him. ‘Going where?’
He tapped the side of his nose. ‘You’ll find out when you get there.’
Defiantly she perched on the edge of the sofa. ‘How do you know I haven’t made plans already?’
