All the windows were open inside their large apartment, net curtains restless in the breeze. An older woman with dark hair, one streak of steel running through it, sat at a small kitchen table, concentrating on a MacBook. She had a pot of coffee next to her and when her husband introduced us, she motioned to thewooden chairs opposite and poured us each a mug. Her husband went to sit down but she shooed him away.
‘You’re busy, Luca – go back to the restaurant. You know you don’t remember anything further back than last week.’ He obediently agreed and we thanked him before he went. ‘Now, Trevor Moorcroft, you say?’ She took the photo from me and smiled. ‘Oh yes. Idoremember him. He didn’t stay with us too long, a year or so. Broke a couple of the waitresses’ hearts and then he moved on.’
I didn’t know if I should feel any better that his “love ’em and leave ’em” attitude was not unique to Mum. I took the photo back silently.
‘Any idea where?’ Elle was still a bright, inquisitive influence.
‘As it happens. He went to work with my husband’s cousin, over at Coney Island.’
‘That sounds a strange career move.’
Jack of all trades and master of none. At least I was different from him in that respect.
‘A little,’ Isabella agreed. ‘He was good with his hands; mechanical, you know? He always fixed the van for us and our cars if they broke down. He went to help maintain the rides. I think it was better money, but also, I got the impression he liked to move around. I don’t think we’d have an address for him. Not here anyway – records that old would be archived at our storage unit by now, but I can go find a number for Luca’s cousin, if you have time to wait?’
‘As long as it’s no trouble for you,’ I said automatically.
‘No. Of course not.’ She disappeared off into another room.
‘What did I tell you?’ Elle said in a light sing-songy voice, her grey eyes sparkling at me as she lifted her coffee to take a sip. ‘New Yorkers love a story.’
‘I’d reserve your smugness for when we find him.’
‘I don’t need to reserve my smugness. I have an inexhaustible supply. Plenty more for later.’ She pressed her tongue between her teeth, and it drew a grudging smile from me. Despite my snapping at her downstairs about the hand-holding she was still helping me out. I was letting this search get to me and taking it out on her. I didn’t really want to do that – I wanted to keep her and the prospect of finding my father at arm’s length, so I could remain my usual collected self.
‘Is that why you love it here?’ I asked. ‘The stories around every corner?’
‘One of many reasons.’ She put her mug down and considered it, twirling that loose strand of hair around her finger. ‘I love the variety. The life. Everything is at your fingertips, y’know? You want a taste of something, you can find it. It’s perfect for someone like me.’
‘Other cities are like that, too.’
‘Of course! But this is my city. I know it well. And my family is here. That’s the most important thing, isn’t it? If they weren’t, maybe I wouldn’t be so attached to it.’
I nodded despite the way my body suddenly became heavy. ‘I can understand that. I always thought London would be the only place I’d feel truly at home. I love it – probably the same way you love New York. But since losing Mum, and Nick moving to the sticks to be near Beth, and Nan moving in with her friend in Surrey, there’s only me left there. If it wasn’t for work, I’m not sure I’d care enough to stay anymore.’
She frowned and rested her hand on my forearm. ‘I’m sorry. That was an insensitive thing for me to say.’
‘I asked a question and you answered it.’ I shrugged. ‘It’s fine.’
Her eyes narrowed at me for a moment, like she was trying to figure out whether to believe me or not. Ididmean it. Reminders hurt but life didn’t stop; people loved their families and obviously they would talk about it. That was a good thing.
‘So, you love your work? Buy, sell, high, low.’ The corner of her mouth lifted with a hint of her usual humour and I appreciated it. That she took me at my word and wasn’t acting like I was going to break into pieces. ‘It’s not just a nine-to-five to pay the bills?’
‘It’s rarely a nine-to-five but yes, I do enjoy it. I have to admit, the main appeal was the money initially, however I love the pace and challenge of it, too.’
‘How did it come to be on your radar as an option? It’s a rare kid that says “investment banker” when they’re asked what they want to be.’ She wrinkled her nose and my faint smile widened at the way she was never just satisfied with the simple answer. She had to dig deeper. Considering I wanted to keep some things private from her, I probably shouldn’t have found it as endearing as I did.
‘Originally, I wanted to be a footballer, like ninety percent of the other boys I went to school with. But there was this man who lived down the street from us; always decked out in suits, owned an Audi GT. I’d wash it for him every weekend to earn some pocket money before he went to visit his mum. Hewasa stock-broker. He told me he’d bought his mum a bungalow somewhere green — I can’t remember where — but I knew I wanted to be able to do that someday.’
‘Did you manage it?’
‘She didn’t want to move out of London; the house had a lot of memories, and Nick was still living there too…but I convinced her to at least let me pay off the mortgage for her.’ Eventually.
‘That’s a pretty awesome thing to do,’ she said, softly.
My words came out a little rough: ‘She deserved not to have to struggle anymore.’
Elle squeezed my forearm. It felt like I’d only just survived that gentle hand-holding of hers but I couldn’t bring myself to move away and our eyes caught. There was something there – amoment of calm at the centre of our usual argumentative storm. My heart rate kicked up and my mouth went dry.
