‘Forget about cost for a moment,’ said Georgia sagely. ‘Remember what I said when we were shopping: ask yourself, “Is it right?” If your ideas are good enough, there will always be a market, and where there’s a market, there are always ways to raise money.’
She felt her mobile vibrate in her pocket and realised she had not checked it since the night before. She had three unread messages, and as Georgia walked ahead, she stopped to read them. One was from Annie asking about her Christmas, another from her American phone provider, the third from a number she did not recognise. ‘Just checking everything is okay Stateside. Will H.’
She frowned, unable to place the name and number, and was about to bury the phone back in her pocket when it started to ring. Looking at the caller ID, she almost gasped in surprise.
‘Daniel,’ she said out loud as Georgia turned around to see what was going on.
Ever since she had made the drunken call on Christmas Eve, she had been cringing about her weakness in the face of egg nog, condemning herself for being sentimental, maudlin and definitely not cool. She carried on walking towards Georgia, letting the phone vibrate in her hand.
‘Perhaps you should take it,’ said Georgia, who went and sat discreetly on the nearest bench.
Amy hesitated and then pressed accept, giving herself no time to think how to play it.
‘Hello?’
‘Happy Christmas,’ he said.
Amy felt her heart flip over at the sound of his voice. Don’t freak out, she scolded herself, angry that his call was making her feel like this.
‘Is that you, Daniel?’
‘Forgotten my voice already?’ he replied, joking but with an undercurrent of hurt.
‘No, I’m just surprised to hear from you.’
‘Well, you did call . . . Where are you? There was a strange ringtone when I dialled.’
‘Long story.’
And not one I’m about to tell you – like answering an advert in the back of The Lady doesn’t smack of desperation.
‘Have you gone home?’ he asked.
‘Yes and no.’
There was a pause, and a surge of cold wind cooled her angry cheeks.
‘Why are you being so cagey?’ asked Daniel. He sounded funny: not his usual confident master-of-the-universe self. She wondered where he was. What he was doing on a Boxing Day afternoon in England. Probably something involving tweed and guns and shooting poor little birds out of the sky, she thought, remembering his conversation with his friends at the Tower party.
‘I’m not being cagey,’ she said defensively.
Another pause.
‘I want to see you. I was glad that you rang.’
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that she’d been drunk, that she wished she had been stronger and not called, but she knew that would be the wrong move. Besides, he wanted to see her. Her heart was beating faster just listening to his voice.
Don’t screw it up now.
‘I’m flying back tonight. Ring me tomorrow,’ she said, as casually as she could.
‘So you are in New York.’
She longed to tell him she had been staying at the Plaza Athénée and had bought clothes on Madison Avenue and had learnt about wine and food from Clive at Eleven Madison Park, but she sensed that it was the mystery that was making him suddenly interested. Why hadn’t she tried this before?
‘What time do you land? I can pick you up,’ he added. He sounded eager now.
‘It’s fine. We have a driver.’