‘Who’s we?’ he asked, his voice lifting in pitch. ‘Who’s got a driver?’
‘As I said, it’s a long story,’ she replied. She could feel herself smiling now. She was enjoying this power switch, this feeling that she was in control and calling the shots.
‘How about you tell me about it tomorrow night? I can book somewhere nice.’
She looked over at Georgia, who glanced away quickly when she realised Amy had caught her watching her.
‘I really have to go, Daniel.’
‘How about Claridge’s? You like it there,’ he said, now sounding desperate.
She let him dangle for a moment. She did love it in Claridge’s. They had gone there for their third date. In the days when he had pulled out all the stops to impress her, the days before she had actually slept with him.
‘Okay. I’ll see you there at eight. If you can’t get a table, let me know and I can make a few calls.’
‘Of course I can get a table,’ he said as Amy pressed the end call button.
Georgia stood up from the bench and smiled.
‘It looks as if your luck is about to change, Amy Carrell,’ she said, and Amy knew that she had played that phone call perfectly.
‘It seems weird saying goodbye.’
Amy was sitting in the idling taxi, peering up at Georgia’s Primrose Hill apartment building, not really wanting to get out, not wanting the adventure to end. It had only been a matter of days since she had first stood there debating whether to go up and meet the crazy old lady from the advert, but so much had happened in that time, it felt like weeks – years even. The weather hasn’t improved, she thought, eyeing the grey clouds, but it was warmer than New York. And at least it wasn’t raining. You always had that to cling to in London: it could be worse, it could be raining.
Georgia smiled.
‘You know, as soon as I handed that advert over to the magazine, I thought it
was a mistake. But I was wrong. And I am glad it was you who answered, Amy Carrell.’
Amy hovered for a moment, unsure what to say. It was clearly time to say goodbye: should she hug the old lady? An air kiss? Or just a handshake? She considered Georgia a friend, felt they had shared a great deal over the past few days, but she really had no idea if Georgia felt the same way or if she simply thought of Amy as the hired help.
‘Thanks, Georgia. Thanks for everything,’ she said simply. ‘I hope, you know, it was as good as you wanted it to be.’
Georgia touched her hand.
‘It was certainly more fun than I expected,’ she said, her eyes twinkling. ‘We should do lunch in the new year. Or maybe go to the Courtauld – you’ll love it there, it’s just as inspiring as the Frick.’
‘Does this mean we’re friends?’ said Amy with a grin. ‘’Cos you can’t shake me off that quickly. And I want you down at the Forge next weekend. I’m going to whip my friends there into shape – serving from the left and all that fancy stuff – and I want you to come and see if we’ve got it nailed.’
‘I’d like that very much.’
‘You should bring Will. Your cousin’s son. That was his name, right? We’ll probably still be serving Christmas dinners . . . I feel guilty you’ve spent Christmas with me rather than your family.’
‘I think Will is very busy over the holidays. I will probably come alone to the Forge,’ Georgia said more tersely.
Amy looked at her pointedly.
‘Some families don’t get along quite as well as yours, Amy,’ said Georgia after a moment.
‘Maybe you all need to try a bit harder.’ Amy wasn’t sure whether she had overstepped the mark. ‘Take my uncle Chuck. He can be tricky. My mom still hasn’t forgotten the time he pinched the principal’s ass on my high-school graduation day. But he’s still there every Christmas, every big family occasion.’
‘Was your principal female?’ asked Georgia quizzically.
Amy laughed.
‘You know what I’m saying. Forgive. Even if you don’t quite forget.’