‘It’s from the family,’ he said, glancing at Amy as if he didn’t want to say more in front of strangers.
‘I’m well aware of what it is, Will,’ said Georgia with a rather pinched look.
‘So what are your plans for Christmas?’
He was loitering awkwardly near the door. Amy noticed that Georgia had not suggested he take his coat off and join them for tea.
‘I’m out of the country,’ said Georgia more brightly. ‘Escaping the London weather.’
‘New York’s going to be a damn sight colder than here,’ laughed Amy, trying to defuse the tension.
‘New York?’ said Will, looking even more serious. He viewed Amy suspiciously with his dark, almost black eyes, the sort of eyes that made you feel guilty once they settled their gaze on you.
‘We’re going on a trip,’ replied Amy quickly, looking to Georgia for reassurance that she had done the right thing in telling him.
‘You’re going to New York together?’ said Will slowly. He definitely disapproved of that idea, thought Amy, watching him thrust his hand in his pocket.
‘That’s right, and I really have to pack,’ said Georgia, making it clear that the visit was now over.
‘Do you want to give me your contact details? Just in case.’
‘In case of what?’ replied Georgia, peering at him down her nose.
‘Just in case . . .’ he said, his eyes flickering towards Amy.
‘Take my number,’ offered Amy. She rattled it off and he punched it into his phone.
‘Thanks,’ he said flatly.
‘And thank you again,’ said Georgia. ‘Please pass on . . . the season’s greetings to your parents.’
The three of them stood in silence for a moment.
‘Happy Christmas, Georgia,’ he said finally. ‘Call me if you need a lift to the airport.’ And he disappeared, closing the door behind him.
Amy looked at Georgia and didn’t say anything. She didn’t know what had just happened there, but if her cousins came to the Carmichael Street house, her mom and dad could never get rid of them. They’d crack open a beer, put their feet up in front of the TV or shoot hoops in the yard. But perhaps the British were different.
‘You should probably reassure him that I’m not some Yankee con artist,’ she said finally.
‘He doesn’t think that,’ said Georgia politely.
‘I think he’s wondering why a member of his family is going to New York with a stranger.’
Georgia gave her a sympathetic glance.
‘William has a good heart,’ she said quietly. ‘But I fear the thousands of pounds spent sending him to the best schools failed to teach him the good graces of social interaction. I apologise if he made you feel uncomfortable.’
‘It’s fine,’ said Amy, trying to imagine how she would feel if her uncle Chuck won the lottery and announced he was going on a European vacation with a twenty-something blonde.
‘Now, if I show you a map of Central Park, perhaps you can point out to me where the Wollman ice rink is?’ Georgia said, her whole demeanour relaxing. ‘I’ve always wanted to see it.’
22 December 2012
‘The local time here in New York is 2.45 p.m.,’ said the pilot. ‘The weather is a bracing four degrees, but the good news is we’re forecast for some sunny spells tomorrow.’
Georgia leant towards the window and peered out dubiously.
‘No snow. How disappointing.’