flashy glass condos? The mayor’s a schmuck. They’re destroying the city, piece by piece. What’s good about that?’ Salvatore shook his head.
Meg paused as she got to the front door, unsure whether he wanted a response or was just venting his spleen. ‘I don’t know what’s good about it, you are right. But I hope something happens today to make you smile.’ She flashed a grin at the top of Salvatore’s head, but he continued reading and mumbling as though he were alone.
‘Well, I’ll be off then.’ She nodded and reached for the brass handle. It was time to get on with her day.
‘Don’t let the heat out!’ He waved his glasses in her direction and shouted at her disappearing form.
Meg laughed. How was she supposed to step outside into the frosty winter morning without opening the front door? Standing on the top step, she took a deep breath and ventured out on to the streets of Greenwich Village.
She liked this time of day in any city. It was a little too early for other tourists to have hit the streets and was the preserve of natives making their way to work and runners pounding the pavements in mismatched T-shirts and joggers. Here, the sun was yet to rise over the skyscrapers and the early haze of morning threw a bluey-grey veil over the cityscape. She let her eyes wander, watching as New York stretched and yawned, coming alive, full of all the wonderful possibilities that the day might hold.
Passing the Greenwich Avenue Deli, she resisted the temptation to go in and grab a coffee and one of the plump banana and nut muffins that sat so enticingly in the window, their crunchy crusts of dark brown sugar all but impossible to ignore. She didn’t want to arrive with breakfast in her hand, especially not a baked breakfast, feeling that would be disloyal to the Plum brand. She would simply have to wait. She hoped that they had at least managed to get the coffee machine working and had run off a batch of chocolate brioche. Meg inhaled their imaginary scent, which was enough to make her mouth water. She glanced at the stools and counter inside the window and shook her head, remembering the rude man in the denim shirt the night before. Mary Poppins? What a dickhead.
She fell into step with the other commuters and felt a rush of happiness as she considered her situation. Meg from London, Megan who had been in and out of care, quiet Megan who would never amount to much, here she was, strolling around New York, off to work as though it were second nature. If she could, what would she say to her seven-year-old self, who felt like the world was so complicated, when it took all of her strength just to figure out her place in it? She would say, ‘Hang on in there, Meggy. You might have a few bumps ahead of you, but I promise, it all gets a lot, lot easier.’ And she’d probably buy her a pair of pink fluffy earmuffs like Izzy Fox’s because she’d know how much she coveted them. She smiled at the idea.
Meg walked the few blocks quickly to try and prevent the chill of the frosty morning from creeping into her bones. She took a circuitous route, wanting to see some of this incredible city. Having passed through Washington Square and skirted the New York University building, she now stood watching Juno, the young manager of Plum’s New York branch, from across the street as she waited for a gap in the traffic.
Juno was nervous. She paced the pavement in front of the shop, smoothing her dark hair back into its immaculate ballerina bun and craning her neck left and right before returning inside and peeking regularly from the open door. Meg recognised her instantly from their many conversations on Skype. She sensed her anxiety and felt for her. She knew that until Juno had worked for the company for a while, she would be jumpy, uneasy about how she might be viewed when things were running less than smoothly. But everyone in London had confidence in Juno’s abilities. She had been awarded the ribbon for
Meg paused as she got to the front door, unsure whether he wanted a response or was just venting his spleen. ‘I don’t know what’s good about it, you are right. But I hope something happens today to make you smile.’ She flashed a grin at the top of Salvatore’s head, but he continued reading and mumbling as though he were alone.
‘Well, I’ll be off then.’ She nodded and reached for the brass handle. It was time to get on with her day.
‘Don’t let the heat out!’ He waved his glasses in her direction and shouted at her disappearing form.
Meg laughed. How was she supposed to step outside into the frosty winter morning without opening the front door? Standing on the top step, she took a deep breath and ventured out on to the streets of Greenwich Village.
She liked this time of day in any city. It was a little too early for other tourists to have hit the streets and was the preserve of natives making their way to work and runners pounding the pavements in mismatched T-shirts and joggers. Here, the sun was yet to rise over the skyscrapers and the early haze of morning threw a bluey-grey veil over the cityscape. She let her eyes wander, watching as New York stretched and yawned, coming alive, full of all the wonderful possibilities that the day might hold.
Passing the Greenwich Avenue Deli, she resisted the temptation to go in and grab a coffee and one of the plump banana and nut muffins that sat so enticingly in the window, their crunchy crusts of dark brown sugar all but impossible to ignore. She didn’t want to arrive with breakfast in her hand, especially not a baked breakfast, feeling that would be disloyal to the Plum brand. She would simply have to wait. She hoped that they had at least managed to get the coffee machine working and had run off a batch of chocolate brioche. Meg inhaled their imaginary scent, which was enough to make her mouth water. She glanced at the stools and counter inside the window and shook her head, remembering the rude man in the denim shirt the night before. Mary Poppins? What a dickhead.
She fell into step with the other commuters and felt a rush of happiness as she considered her situation. Meg from London, Megan who had been in and out of care, quiet Megan who would never amount to much, here she was, strolling around New York, off to work as though it were second nature. If she could, what would she say to her seven-year-old self, who felt like the world was so complicated, when it took all of her strength just to figure out her place in it? She would say, ‘Hang on in there, Meggy. You might have a few bumps ahead of you, but I promise, it all gets a lot, lot easier.’ And she’d probably buy her a pair of pink fluffy earmuffs like Izzy Fox’s because she’d know how much she coveted them. She smiled at the idea.
Meg walked the few blocks quickly to try and prevent the chill of the frosty morning from creeping into her bones. She took a circuitous route, wanting to see some of this incredible city. Having passed through Washington Square and skirted the New York University building, she now stood watching Juno, the young manager of Plum’s New York branch, from across the street as she waited for a gap in the traffic.
Juno was nervous. She paced the pavement in front of the shop, smoothing her dark hair back into its immaculate ballerina bun and craning her neck left and right before returning inside and peeking regularly from the open door. Meg recognised her instantly from their many conversations on Skype. She sensed her anxiety and felt for her. She knew that until Juno had worked for the company for a while, she would be jumpy, uneasy about how she might be viewed when things were running less than smoothly. But everyone in London had confidence in Juno’s abilities. She had been awarded the ribbon for
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