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‘And does your husband live there?’
Tess winced at the assumption that she’d be married. She thought she was so hip in her new ring and her bags full of Marc Jacobs shopping, but in Jack’s eyes she was probably ancient. She shook her head.
‘I’m not married.’
‘Oh,’ said Jack, tagging along with Tess as she walked off along West Houston Street. ‘But don’t you miss your friends?’
Tess felt another sudden flush of guilt. The truth was she hadn’t really missed anything about London. Packing for the move, she had felt bogged down with anxiety and nostalgia; she had expected to feel terribly homesick being stranded thousands of miles from home, but, as it had turned out, she really hadn’t missed any of it: not the buzz of the newsroom, nor even her old flat opposite Battersea Park.
‘A little, I suppose,’ she shrugged.
‘What’s England like?’
‘Rainy.’
‘So was Buffalo,’ said Jack enthusiastically. ‘I used to live there with my mum and dad. My dad was in the army and got stationed in Iraq. When he came back my mum left him for someone else.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
Jack shrugged. ‘I like New York and, anyway, I think my mum is happier where she is. I go up to Greenwich every coupla weeks; she comes down here, but today she cancelled on me.’
‘There’s a lot of it about,’ said Tess with an ironic smile. They were passing a park and she sat down on a bench, turning her face up to the sunshine. Jack sat next to her and peered at her sideways.
‘So your mum and dad are split up too? Is that what you mean?’
‘No, my dad is dead, I was actually talking about my boyfriend. He was supposed to be out here this weekend.’
‘What about your mum? I bet she’s sad you live all the way out here now.’
‘She doesn’t know.’
‘Why not?’ asked Jack, amazed.
Tess puffed out her cheeks, exhausted by his relentless questioning.
‘Don’t you have somewhere else to be?’ she asked.
Jack just blinked at her. ‘Nope.’
‘Well, I do and I’ve got to be heading home, so it’s been nice meeting you, but–’
‘You gotta let me walk you home,’ interrupted Jack quickly. ‘It’s a tough city on your own, all kinds of lowlifes everywhere. Where do you live?’
There was just no shaking this kid.
‘Perry Street in the Village.’
‘Hey, that’s just by me,’ said Jack, delighted. ‘I’m on Charles Street, we’re neighbours. Perry Street, huh? One of those fancy red houses, I bet
.’
Tess smiled, thinking about her top–floor apartment. Jack was right; it was one of the smartest buildings in the area. It was only small but it was picture perfect.
‘Nice,’ said Jack appreciatively. ‘Our place is kinda a rat–hole. My dad has three jobs but we’re not rich. You like pizza?’ he added, shooting off on a tangent. ‘Let’s go to Joe’s on Carmine Street. Best pizza in New York … Oh no.’
Tess looked up, following his gaze. Across Bleeker Street she could see a tall, stocky man in jeans walking purposefully towards them.
‘What’s wrong?’ frowned Tess.
