Helen Cox - Starlight in New York

‘Banking,’ I repeated. ‘Can be quite stressful during a recession, I believe.’ It had been for him. But Mrs Delaney was always there. Ready to sprawl and relieve the pressure.

‘She seems to be coping.’ Sandra smiled. Silence again. I had to get these two out the door sharpish.

‘Well, sorry about the whole fainting thing. I really need to slow down.’ I strained out a laugh though my whole head pulsed when I did so. ‘I hope you enjoy the Empire State Building. The view up there will be quite spectacular today.’

‘Yes. Thanks. And er. Sorry. I mean. I hope you’re OK,’ said Sandra. I nodded. And with that they picked up their takeaway coffees, waving goodbye.

The second they left I knew there’d be pressure to explain. Bernie hobbled over, weighing up how to respond to the havoc I’d wreaked. Mona, Alan, Walt, Angela and Jack were all looking at me; even Lucia had ducked out of the kitchen. I was surrounded by faces that begged for answers. The thought of telling my story however, even excerpts from it, made me want to throw up. Or maybe that was just the first signs of a concussion.

‘Suppose I better start clearing up the mess I made. Sorry, Bernie.’ Perhaps I could distract them by being industrious.

‘Don’t worry ’bout that,’ he replied. Of all the responses Bernie had considered in the last minute, he seemed to have landed on pity. ‘You should go home. Rest up.’

‘You mean I’ve caused enough damage for one day?’ I tried to smile.

‘You clearly need a break and it’s not like the world is going to end if you don’t wait on customers this afternoon,’ he said in the softest tone I’d ever heard him use.

‘Thanks. I know you must have … questions …’ I pressed down on the table in an attempt to stand but it was still too soon and I had to sit again.

‘We wouldn’t dream of pryin’,’ said Mona, the corners of her mouth twitching. ‘But you can probably tell the story better tomorrow anyway, when you haven’t had a knock to the head.’

I sighed. Mona’s maternal instinct only just trumped her love for gossip.

‘You can barely stand,’ said Jack.

‘I can see you home,’ Alan offered.

‘Oh, Alan, that’s not necessary.’ I smiled so hard at him I probably looked like a game-show host. ‘Walking home a woman who’s fainted is hardly police business.’

‘Well, I do have a hearing to get to… but you shouldn’t walk back alone, Esther.’

‘Maybe Jack could see you home,’ Mona suggested with an almost untraceable smirk. Angela looked at Jack and pursed her lips. I glared at Mona for meddling yet again.

‘No, no, no. I’m fine,’ I said. Angela was so beautiful it was unthinkable that she should be insecure but, being a kid, she was. I could see it in the thin smile she’d forced onto her face. A smile she’d borrowed from me. She was quiet for a few moments and then, looking down at me, shook her head.

‘Esther, you’re not fine. I’d come with you but I have to get to work. Jack can walk you home.’

‘But –’ I began.

‘No. You need help,’ Angela insisted. She nodded at Jack, pecked him on the cheek and squeezed my arm on her way out.

‘Look. I… I don’t want to …’ I looked up at Jack. ‘It’s kind, but you don’t need to go to the trouble of walking me home. I don’t live far.’ In my weakened state the last thing I needed was to be left alone, unsupervised, with Jack.

‘Yes, you live nearby. Which is why it’s no trouble,’ he said.

I sighed and shook my head.

‘Stop being so stubborn and let the man see you home,’ said Mona.

‘Alright, alright.’ I closed my eyes. Peril lurked in some quiet corner of this situation. I could feel its stale, over-familiar breath on the back of my neck but didn’t have the strength for an argument. With my head hung low I rose from my seat. ‘I’m sorry about the mess, Bernie.’

‘Forget about it,’ was all he would say on the matter.

The walk home was slower than expected. In the diner the air-conditioning kept me cool but out in the street there was no escape from the humidity. On more than one occasion, given the blow I’d taken, I was convinced I’d wind up unconscious on the ground again.

‘Sorry,’ I said to Jack who was walking close beside me. ‘This is going to take all day at this rate.’ I leant against a nearby scaffolding pole.

‘Just take it at your own pace,’ he replied then looked at me, his face alight with an idea. ‘In fact …’ and without another word he picked me up. I let out a sharp yelp of surprise and wrapped my arms around his neck. We looked at each other.

‘You can’t carry me like this all the way to my place. I weigh a tonne,’ I said.

‘You do not weigh a tonne,’ he laughed at the suggestion. ‘You’re practically in miniature.’ I wanted to react to this with a playful punch to the stomach – that’s the kind of thing you can do to someone you’ve met a whole three times in your life right? – but I’d neither the strength nor the angle. I settled for raising an eyebrow.

Jack began walking towards my room on Clinton Street as per my directions. Having his arms around me, well, it’d been a long time since anyone had put their arms around me like that. After what’d happened with Mr Delaney, I never expected to crave closeness. Not to a man, anyway. But I couldn’t deny the truth. At least, not in my own head. Some days my arms ached for the warmth of someone else’s. To, just for a moment, know I wasn’t on my own. That I didn’t need to be on guard because I was safe where I was. In quiet moments, I’d started to daydream about losing myself in the warmth of somebody else’s body. In the warmth of Jack’s body.

With this in mind I should’ve felt soothed by Jack’s embrace but the position was far too intimate for two people so unavailable to one another. Grooms carried brides over thresholds like this, and the proximity of his body to mine amplified my awkwardness. The whole time he was holding me I didn’t know where to put my head. If I kept it upright my face was too close to his. Our lips and noses brushing by each other. Then there was a moment of eye contact before nervousness got the better of me and I looked away. Leaning my head against his chest didn’t work either. There was something personal about the gesture. It didn’t feel like an OK thing to do knowing he was involved with someone else. So I alternated between the two arrangements. Switching the instant one of them became too intense.

Within ten minutes we reached my building. He lowered me back to street level. I held a hand against my head, trying to stay steady.

‘You sure you don’t want me to carry you up the stairs?’ He was dead serious.

I smiled. ‘You’ve been very chivalrous, but I think carrying me up the stairs would be bordering on showing off.’ He laughed while I thought about what I’d want to happen next if I let him carry me upstairs.

‘As I’ve carried you all this way, have I earned the right to ask you one question and get a straight answer?’

‘Alright. But you’ve got one question so use it wisely.’